Chapter 1

I was in trouble. I had planned this out – obviously not well – but I had planned this out all the same. David Kessler always cuts through the park on his way home from school. It's like clockwork. So, my plan had the beauty of simplicity on its side; the less moving parts the less that could go wrong. I would wait for him in the park on his way home and teach him why it's a bad idea to start making up stories about my older sister.

The plan seemed fool-proof; although he's 2 years older than I am, 16 to my 14, I've got close to 2 inches in height on him. He does outweigh me by 20 to 30 pounds but his weight is all blubber while mine is lean muscle. Advantage: me.

I must be a bigger fool than I thought.

I didn't expect him to have company. He never had company on his way home. I'd watched him for the past week, ever since he'd left my sister walking home alone in the dark from a date where he'd tried to 'do stuff' that she was uncomfortable with, and he'd never had company before.

He had company today. Bart Cauldwell and Mark Nemmins. One on one I should still be okay. It wasn't going to be one on one.

I was too stupid to back off. He'd hurt my sister and made her the laughingstock of the school; not only lied about bedding her but had the gall to tell everyone how bad she was at it. Now granted my sister was a bit of a prat to me but hurting her was my job and I didn't delegate it. Besides, if I absolutely had to tell the truth I would be forced to admit that I loved the stupid cow. No matter what, she certainly didn't deserve David's shit; I'd told her so from the moment she'd agreed to the date but she didn't listen to me.

I was able to get a few shots in early. I think I might have even broken David's nose; it was certainly bleeding enough for it. Of course, that was before Bart and Mark joined the fray.

Mark clubbed me with something. I'm not sure what it was but it took me to the ground momentarily and my ear burned something horrible. I got up to face the two of them when Bart stepped behind me and snaked his arms under mine and then over and around behind my neck. He clasped his hands together before I really knew what he was doing and then arched his back. He wasn't strong enough to take me off my feet but I was certainly off-balance.

It turned out that Mark had found a branch that had to be two foot long and at least 3 inches thick. That was what he hit me with. I know this because as I was squirming, trying to get away, I saw him preparing to bat my head to the fences. Among other things, Mark is a power-hitter for our baseball team; he could do it. I was about to have a really bad day.

I was pretty sure I didn't want to see this coming. I closed my eyes and turned my head waiting for the branch to connect. I tensed and felt the blood roaring through my ears, my body taut and waiting.

Suddenly, I felt a strange sensation in my head, like someone had struck a funny-bone in the inside of my brain. It felt like a small twitch; a strange sensation that flowed through me like gooseflesh. For a moment, I wondered if I'd just had an aneurysm – it was what my grandfather had died of two years ago and I'd often wondered if they were hereditary and how I'd know if I was about to have one. Of course, at this particular time it didn't matter; the timing would be ironic, if nothing else. All I could do was stand there, eyes clenched, and wait. And wait. And wait.

I peeked my eyes open, trying to figure out what Mark and David were waiting for; I figured they were probably arguing about who got to hit me first, though I didn't hear them. I was surprised to see Mark still holding the branch back, his face still tucked into that snarl that scared children and small animals. He hadn't moved a muscle.

As a matter of fact, none of them had moved a muscle. They were all standing exactly as before. David was to my left, hands closed into fists, lower face drenched in blood from his nose. He still looked like he wanted to kill me but he ... he wasn't moving. And the blood ... it wasn't dry but it wasn't flowing either. It just ... wasn't moving. And, wait, there ... halfway down his torso ... there was a drop of blood just ... just sitting there. In mid-air. Unmoving.

What ... the ... fuck ... was ... going ... on?