“So, where were you?” Ryan asked when they headed into the yard during break.

Mr. Brecht told them they were allowed to leave and immediately half their class jumped up to go talk to Camille, badgering her with questions about magic. He could hear them still, talking excitedly even though Camille had nothing to say. Ryan wouldn’t have expected anything else though, honestly. The only reason he didn’t go himself was because he’d had enough chances to talk to [Mages] in the last two years. They had answered anything he wanted to know about magic.

Apparently, there were three ways you could become a [Mage]. Studying theory, which led to getting a Path and practical application opportunities, working your way up from other callings and Skills, like cantrips, and lastly, just getting lucky. Ryan wondered which of three Camille had used. Probably the last, right?

But more importantly, he wondered why Micah hadn’t gone to talk with her.

He looked happy for some reason, but he wasn’t as interested in magic like Ryan had thought he would be. The other boy just glanced at her when they left the classroom, then back to Ryan. He smiled.

Ryan didn’t know why. Maybe he was just grateful that Camille had stolen all the attention from him? Maybe he was excited that she was a [Mage]? Surely, it couldn’t be anything else. Ryan didn’t want to have to deal with anything like that.

Either way, he shrugged. No point in worrying about it. Micah left the classroom with him and Camille drew all the attention. Ryan took that for what it was— respite. Right now, he just wanted to do was what he did almost every break to take his mind off of things— play alleyball. And Micah was going to join him.

“Hm?” the boy asked.

“I wanted to visit you on Saturday,” Ryan explained, “but nobody was home.”

Ryan remembered how awkward it had been, knocking on the door of an empty house with the Beginner’s Guide scratching his skin under his shirt, hidden there stuffed halfway in his pants. Nobody had opened up though, so he went around back and climbed up into Micah’s room. It was empty, too. His bed was made though. How tidy of him.

“Oh,” the other boy suddenly said, as if remembering something. Only then did he seem to give Ryan his full attention. “I forgot to tell you. My parents went to Millford’s, remember? It turns out they have no more free spaces this summer so I’m working at my sister’s bathhouse in the afternoons and weekends all summer, as my punishment. I’m earning my allowance back, too.”

He seemed happy about that for some reason, and Ryan quickly understood why. Everything was better than afternoon classes on your own after all, especially working with family. He could visit more easily himself, too, since it was closer. And Prisha seemed nice, unlike Micah’s parents.

Ryan found himself smiling, too.

“Awesome,” he said and bent to fish the ball out of the ‘toy crate’ behind the classroom. There were some jumping ropes and older, deflated balls inside, too. Plus some really old chalk stains. You had to ask the teacher for chalk nowadays, though. Keeping it — or anything, really — in the crate tended to not go so well for the item.

Rain, dust, and wind. Plus, children liked to break things.

He kept on walking, and Micah followed, but frowned when he saw the ball stuck between Ryan’s waist and arm.

“Ryan, where are we going?”

Some of the other boys were trickling out of the classroom now. Others were already across the small yard at the nearby alleyway, calling for Ryan to hurry up.

“To play alleyball?” he asked, spinning the ball idly.

“Uhm.” Micah’s smile wavered a little. “I haven’t played in ages. I’m not sure I even know the rules anymore.”

“Don’t sweat it. You’ll be on my team. I score all the goals on my own anyway.”

He gave Micah a slap on the back and sped up, letting the ball fall down to roll on the ground.

“Uhm, sure,” Micah said from behind.

“Hey, Lang! Start picking!” Ryan called to one of the other eldest boys, his ‘rival’. Lang was better than Ryan at alleyball, though — much better, actually — but only because he had the [Lesser Agility] Skill. Ryan made up for it by shoving him aside whenever he got in his way. He liked to annoy Ryan by juggling the ball around him, after all. Tit for tat.

“You picked Flower Boy?” Lang asked when he saw them walking up.

“Yep,” Ryan called back happily. Even if Micah sucked, Ryan was good enough on his own. And if he didn’t suck, all the better, right? At least he wouldn’t have to pick someone who was bad and who he didn’t like.

A few moments later the teams were picked, Ryan got the ball and rushed them on his own like everyone always did in the beginning. Only halfway through the game did they started passing to each other to mix things up. Going for the goal on your own rarely worked anyway, unless you were Lang. He guessed [Lesser Dexterity] was also good if you were a side-liner or goalie and allowed to touch the ball.

Ryan’s [Enhanced Traction] was good enough for him. He used it to support his rush, scoring a goal within the first few moments of the game.

Still hopeful, the enemy goalie rolled the ball back into the game straight away and the game went on. Them rushing him this time.

Ryan’s team won in the end, just barely, and they celebrated by cheering and running about. Micah had been their right-side defense and let through most opponents. He didn’t really join in, though. He never really seemed to get the hang of it.

“No good?” Ryan’s father asked, his arms crossed and raising a single eyebrow.

Ryan groaned while he tugged the single Growing Boot back off. It was Tuesday morning and he was trying to make them fit, as he had yesterday, too, but they just weren’t big enough yet. His foot fit in, yes, but it pinched his sides. A lot.

“Not yet,” Ryan grumbled. He spat back inside the one he held in his hand, then did the same with the other just to be sure. He’d really hoped they would be big enough already. Otherwise, it meant he’d get chaffed pinkie toes today after all.

Sorry, Micah.

“Well, we haven’t found anyone to take your old ones off our hands yet anyway, so you still gotta make the most of those, bud,” his father said. “Hey, maybe Micah could want them?”

“He’s only thirteen, dad,” Ryan said while he started putting on his old pair of boots. Shoes. Boot-shoes. They didn’t reach all that high. Same thing.

“We could still hold them in the meanwhile until he’s old enough to wear them. They’re good climber boots. Sturdy, too. It’s the least we can offer, considering.”

“That’s right!” Ryan’s mom called happily from the kitchen. She was actually humming this morning since she was in a good mood. She was loving Micah ever since Ryan had brought home the Growing Boots … although, now that he thought about, Ryan wasn’t sure if she was loving Micah or the boots. He saw her hug them once when she was sweeping and had to move them aside. Was buying shoes for your kids really that much of a hassle?

Well, they also had to sell them again afterward. And Ryan knew that was always an ordeal. They asked the neighborhood parents first before asking people in Ryan’s classroom, after all. That meant they had to go door to door and hope people were home, parent and child, and then the parents had to force their children to try the shoes on while Ryan and his mom watched awkwardly from a few feet away. Then there was still haggling, and sometimes the kid wouldn’t want Ryan’s old shoes because of stupid things like their color, or because they were too thick, or because of barely visible blood stains that they hadn’t quite managed to get out that one time.

Oh noo, blood stains, yada yada yada, and … yeah, Ok. Ryan couldn’t definitely see why his mother was happy.

She made him promise to find another pair by the time his sibling was old enough to wear them. Ryan said he’d try his best. Apparently, that was enough for her. Buying them at an auction on your own could get expensive, after all. You had to know people who knew people who had found a pair and were willing to sell them for cheap, privately, if you wanted any chance.

After two years of being an Early Bird, Ryan knew some people. But he didn’t really know people yet. Not people who knew people who knew people. That he still had to work on. As well as remembering names.

His dad whispered a warning to him that he should enjoy his mother’s good mood while it still lasted. He gestured at his stomach then and made a mock stern face. Ryan frowned while he rushed off to kiss his ‘wonderful wife’ on the cheek where she sat at the table.

What did that mean?

Boots on, he packed up his things and said his goodbyes. Then he headed off to the classroom for the day.

He almost forgot not to sit down next to Darren again, waddled back out of the row and headed up to sit down next to Micah, greeting the other kid with a fist bump. He had some loose pages with him that he stuffed away after a moment. Ryan asked, and he said they were alchemical recipes that someone had given him. The teacher started class then, so Ryan couldn’t ask any more than that. Well ... he could have. He doubted Micah would mind them chatting during class. But he didn’t. It was proper, after all.

A large group of people dispersed from around Camille’s row, too. She had a cup filled with water on her desk and looked taxed already.

Poor Camille.

Then they had break and Ryan dragged Micah off to the alley to play alleyball. All things considered, he wasn’t that much worse than others who couldn’t play for squat.

The alley was more a street really, judging by its width, and it ended in what was basically a dead-end between two houses. But it was wide and it had two stone walls on either side without windows, so it was the perfect place for their game. The two narrow alleys that led off of it, left and right between the houses and the wall, didn’t allow the ball to roll too far either, which was usually a good thing.

But this time ...

More and more of the enemy team seemed to pick on Micah this time around, sensing that he was the weakest link on their team, and it quickly got on Ryan’s nerves. They were on the wall side again, and Micah on their defense. They’d tried to push their way through him, and when it didn’t work, the ball would inevitably land in one of the two alleys, and Micah was forced to climb in to go get it.

Eventually, Ryan rolled his eyes and sighed loudly whenever someone did it, looking at them as if it was their fault. Because it was. Micah was bad, yeah, but they were the ones trying to force their way through.

He was about to speak up about it when Micah came up to him.

“Hey, Ryan. Can I be on the offense?” he asked.

“What, like side-lines?” Ryan asked.

“No, like striker.”

“What? Are you sure?”

Micah nodded earnestly. How was Ryan supposed to say no to that?

“Uhm, sure.”

Micah kept the ball instead of giving it to him. Ryan told Finn, their other striker, to switch out and then he watched Micah roll the ball into the game. He got it stolen from him right away. It was awkward at first, but Ryan yelled some tips and helped him out when he could, and little by little — or rather, bounds by bounds — Micah got better.

It quickly turned into a bloodbath.

Turns out, Micah was kind of … fierce. Ryan would have said something, he was bound to foul someone sooner or later, but he didn’t, because the boy scored goals. Soon, they were both sweaty and laughing and dissing the other players for sucking so much.

It takes twelve for a bloodbath, though.

The other boys countered fierce with fierce and the game degraded into a rushing and shoving match. It was tons of fun. Especially since it was the opposite of Lang’s forté and he suffered from it. They were exhausted by the time class started again, and Ryan left the classroom early with a smile.

He didn’t care that he had training today. He was in a good mood.

Gardener made him run laps in the massive yard at school, like he had promised, along with a few other students who had recently messed up. The rest was stuck warming up in a corner of the field. They were doing forms again today. At least, Ryan wasn’t missing out on much yet.

After the first nine laps, Ryan jogged past Gardener a sweating mess, but he was still smiling. He felt like he could go for another ten just as easily after he finished this one. [Lesser Endurance] was really helping.

“What are you so happy about?” Gardener asked him, jogging along backward for a stretch.

“I forgot to tell you, sir,” Ryan panted, breathed, and went on. “I leveled up to five. I got [Lesser Endurance].”

“Oh? Is that so?” Gardener asked, excited.

“Yeah,” Ryan smiled at him.

“WELL THEN RUN ANOTHER TEN!” Gardener bellowed all the sudden.

“What?”

Ryan had been thinking that he could, but he didn’t actually want to do that. He wouldn’t even be able to walk afterward!

“This is supposed to be a punishment, Ryan. I want to see ten more laps! Now, RUN, BOY, RUN!”

Ryan groaned and sped up again to get away from his screaming instructor. But the man kept on following him for a bit, and even put his fingers in his mouth and whistled for him to keep up the pace.

In the end, Ryan fell down on a patch of grass and groaned.

His toes hurt.

“Come on, get up, son, you’re ruining your body,” Gardener said, tossing him a bottle into the grass.

Ryan groaned as he dragged his hand up and took it. He groaned some more while he pushed himself up and took a sip. His toes still hurt, so he took off his boots to check on them.

Gardener sat down opposite him.

“Twenty laps and you’re still moving. What does that tell you about [Lesser Endurance]?” he asked.

Ryan gulped, suddenly realized what the man was about to say. His punishment was over, after all. Gardener could be familiar with him again.

“Uhm,” Ryan said, picking up his boot. Mentally, he readied himself.

“That when you’re older, you’ll be able to-”

“AH!” Ryan screamed and threw his boot at him. Then he ran off towards the main group. He’d rather do forms than hear Gardener’s lewd jokes again.

All in all, it was a good day.

Wednesday, things got out of hand when Micah finally fouled someone. It was bound to happen eventually, but Ryan just couldn’t help shake the feeling that it had been on purpose.

They were playing against Billy and some other boys who had been hard on Micah the last few days, even though he was holding his own now. Or maybe because of it. Ryan didn’t have the energy to keep up with a bloodbath game after yesterday, and the other children didn’t seem to be in the mood for that either. But Micah and Billy, and a few others, still did. It was basically a shoving match between the few.

They were on the offense. Ryan didn’t see what happened because two people were blocking him. Suddenly, Billy was on the floor with a shout and clutching his ankle. Micah stood over him, frowning. And then he just turned around and left.

“Micah!” Ryan called after him, but the boy ducked around the alley and didn’t come back. Billy was still cursing and the other children standing around him didn’t know what to do. Ryan, being one of the oldest, knelt down next to him to see what was wrong.

His ankle was red and swollen, but that was it. The other boy still insisted that it hurt. He said he thought it was broken.

“It’s not broken,” Ryan told him.

“How would you know?”

“Because … it’s not.” He poked the ankle to make sure he wouldn’t feel anything sticking out wrong, and Billy swatted his hand with a hiss. Ryan had seen much worse than this, and broken bones, too. This was just red. It didn’t seem broken ... right?

He remembered Micah saying he got [Savagery] as a Skill. How far would he go just to get people to leave him alone?

“Ryan, can you move?” Micah suddenly asked from behind him.

Ryan spun around, surprised, and saw the other boy kneeling down next to him with something in his hands.

“Micah.”

“What do you want?” Billy asked.

“Relax, you big baby. It’s just a bruise,” Micah said lightly.

“Like I said, how would you know?”

“My Skill told me. Plus, look, it’s turning blue-ish.”

That shut everyone up. Skill? Which Skill? Ryan thought. The only combat Skill Micah had was [Savagery], he knew, unless he had gotten a new one? Ryan looked at him, but he couldn’t ask right now.

“What are you doing?” Billy asked.

Micah had a small wooden jar in his hand. He screwed it open to reveal a tan paste within. Ryan recognized it as the paste Micah spread on his own wounds under his bandages. Was it really OK to be sharing that? He still had some wounds left, right? Then again, Micah could always make more for himself. He was an alchemist, after all.

“I’m an alchemist. I hurt you. Now, I’m healing you,” Micah said.

“Argh!” Billy shouted when he started smearing the paste on his ankle, but the shout turned soft halfway through. “Aah? What’s that? Did you make that?”

“I might as well have,” Micah said. “It’s a paste that reduces something called ‘inflammation’ apparently, which is that hurting redness around wounds.”

Everyone was staring at him. Ryan included.

“What?” he asked, screwing the lid back on. “Stop staring. Don’t forget we still have a game to finish. And we’re winning, you losers.”

Micah got up and held out his hand for Billy to take. When the other boy did, Ryan was surprised that Micah pulled him up in one fluid motion.

“Yeah, but only cause you took out one of ours,” Lang joked.

“Pshaw, I did you a favor.”

“Hey!” Billy said, hopping on one foot. Micah helped him over to the wall, where he could steady himself.

Ryan was kind of speechless. Where was the awkward Micah?

“Hey, can I have some of that paste, too?” he asked, thinking of his chaffed toes.

“Sure,” Micah said and tossed him the jar.

“Give me some, too,” someone else said. “I got a nasty scrape on my knee. It itches when I sit down.”

“Just make sure there’s no dirt in it,” Micah told them. “You can have the jar. I have more.”

Ryan pulled off his boots and put a dollop of the stuff on either pinky toe. It really did ease the heat right away. Then he reluctantly handed the jar over to the other boy who said he needed some.

“Are you wimps done treating yourself?” Finn asked, and Ryan threw his boot at him. He dodged, unlike Gardener had the day before. Then Ryan had to hop over to pick it back up.

“How are we going to play with one person missing?” the other boy asked while Ryan put it on.

“I’ll help Billy back to class and tell the teacher what happened. You can finish five against five,” Micah offered.

“Alright, but we get the ball,” Lang insisted, snatching it up.

Ryan watched Micah go, steadying Billy with his shoulder, even though they hadn’t liked each other just a few minutes before. Break was over soon anyway. He turned back to play.

They lost.

The enemy team had most of the older kids, after all, but Ryan didn’t really care. When he headed back to class, Micah sat crouched in front of the front row, chatting with Camille, Billy, and Darren of all people. He noticed Ryan and waved him over. Ryan wrinkled his nose but sat down as well. He interrupted their conversation by telling them of their defeat. Billy laughed and high-fived one of his teammates walking past. Micah shrugged. Camille and Darren looked awkward until Micah introduced them to Ryan for some reason. He’d sat next to them for years. Just because he didn’t know their names, didn’t mean Micah had to introduce them.

But then class started again and they went back to their bench near the back. Ryan asked Micah about his Skill. He explained it was his Path, but he wouldn’t have known how to explain it if someone asked.

“It was just a guess, really,” he said, and that was that.

The next day, Micah played on the other team against Ryan. Billy and Lang had convinced him to switch sides for once, and he agreed for some reason. Ryan won, and it was fun, but he quickly convinced Micah to stay on his side during the next game.

On Friday, Micah didn’t play alleyball with them at all, even though Ryan had finally gotten the Growing boots to fit him and wanted to celebrate. Apparently, the other boy had gotten a new book on beginner’s alchemy from someone who had visited him the day before. A gift or a bribe, Micah said he didn’t know. It was more a magazine, really, seeing how thin it was. He told him a little about the man, and Ryan said he understood. If he had gotten something like that, of course he’d want to study it as much as he could right away, too. So he went to play on his own again.

This time, he was on Lang’s team.

When Ryan came back, he found Micah sitting in his old front row again, next to Camille and Darren, who still stunk a little. Why was he sitting there? He wasn’t even talking to them!

Ryan had won again. The other boys told Micah all about it, and he gave them high-fives. Ryan got one, too, Micah congratulating him on his victory. He seemed excited.

For some reason, Ryan wasn’t. He didn't really feel like he'd won.