Rolling out of bed feeling excited, energised and more than a little hungry, Peter was looking forward to the day. His first exam was English, one of his favorite subjects and he was certain he would ace it. Going over the fundamentals of writing in his head while pouring cereal, thinking about the correct use of an Oxford comma as he made a cup of tea, composing a short story based on the photo of a missing kid on the milk carton. Nothing could get him down this morning.

He grabbed his bag and left the apartment without once seeing his parents or even realising he hadn’t.

Having left the apartment so early this morning, Peter was forced to sit at the bus stop and wait for it to arrive. In general he tried to get to the stop as close to the bus time as possible because it was expected that he would give up his seat to anyone older than him because they’re older. No other reason, just older. Then they’d try to talk to him, even if he was clearly reading. The more time he was at home, the more time he could read, sitting down, in his own home, without having to converse with strangers.

Even the enforced socialising he’d had to endure after relinquishing his seat to a twenty-something year old, not even a real senior citizen, could dampen Peter’s enthusiasm, however and he endured the bus ride with better than average humour as well. He arrived at school, entered the hall and formed up with the rest of his class, waved to Warren at the back of the room, and almost enjoyed the morning’s speech from the administration. Sure, there was the usual warnings, cheaters caught and punished, truant students rounded up and smokers sent to rehabilitation classes. It all went in one ear and out the other, barely registering on the way through.

Peter took his room assignment and headed off with his head in the clouds. He ghosted through the setting up, daydreamed as the teacher explained the rules and stared out the window for the first ten minutes of the test. Yesterday’s easy victories and his familiarity with the language left him feeling invulnerable, untouchable. He wrote his name at the top, breezed through the multiple choice section and jotted down a short essay on how Shakespeare loved inventing words. In all, it had taken him thirty minutes out of the two hours assigned and Peter felt like he could do no wrong.

Heading down the stairway to the library where he planned to hang out until the afternoon session, Peter checked his timetable to see what exam would be next. What he saw nearly made his heart stop.

Maths.

He hadn’t studied Maths.

He had no idea what was going to be on the exam.

But he knew someone who did. The problem was getting them to help.

Step one was finding Warren, if he was out of his exam yet. He couldn’t message the guy, communications were off for exams to prevent cheating. Peter decided to try asking at the office, see if they would be willing to help. Peter ran through the school, easily avoiding the few other students out of their exams as early as he, until he almost collided with the door to the office. He wrenched it open and took a step inside, letting the cool air conditioning wash over him until he felt he could speak again.

“Excuse me sir,” Peter approached the man attending the front desk, “I’m looking for Warren, um, Connor. Could you tell me which classroom he is in?”

The man looked Peter over with a bored expression. “No student contact until after the exam period is over.”

“But-!”

The man pressed a button on the desk and the door behind Peter opened. “No buts, rules is rules. Do I need to call your parents?”

“No, sir.” Peter left the office in a huff. Fine, bit now how do I get to him? He decided to try the big screen in the hall, hoping that maybe the room assignments hadn’t been taken down yet. Alas, when he arrived he discovered that the screen was dark and the building deserted. He took a chance and tried turning various switches on around the room but to no avail, the screen was obviously controlled remotely.

“DANG IT!” His voice echoed through the empty hall.

“What’re you...”

“...Yelling about?”

Great, just what I needed. Peter didn’t even bother asking what the twins wanted. Stupid questions get stupid answers after all. He just let them lead the way, it would hurt less in the long run. It only took a few minutes to arrive at Billy’s preferred hangout, where the kingpin himself was lounging against the wall puffing on the vape stick. He would take a huge draw from the device and blow it right in the face of his victims kneeling in front of him. Pham coughed weakly, looking very green. Warren sucked in the cloud and spat to the side, unrepentant but unable to retaliate, his wheelchair lay on its side several feet away. Other than the Woodsie twins, Billy was alone. The rest of his thugs-in-training must still be in their exams.

“A lil’ birdie tells me yer gonna try to fail yer exams,” Billy puffed on the device again and released a white cloud skywards. “Here’s wha’s gonna happen ifn’ ya do.” He nodded to the Woodsie who had moved over to stand beside Pham.

The boy took a fistful of Pham’s long dark hair and extracted a pair of scissors from his back pocket. Holding up the shock of hair for all to see, he began making snipping motions towards the tips. His jaw hung open in a grotesque caricature of a grin and his brother giggled behind a hand. Pham sobbed, her shoulders shaking and jerking her head, pulling the hand holding her hair away from the marauding blades with millimeters to spare but every snip got closer.

Warren struggled, thrashing around trying to rise, succeeding only in falling sideways, his non-functioning legs splayed out in the dust. He growled ineffectually, but the Woodsie nearest him just kicked him in the lower back and giggled louder.

“This what ya want?” Billy kicked dust and stones at the three of them. “Cripple in the dust and baldy girl?”

Peter could feel the rage building up inside him. This was his fault. Warren and Pham were being tortured and it was his fault. He was standing there doing nothing while the Woodsie twins terrorised two innocent people and it was his fault. This is what I get for thinking I could beat the bully. Trembling in his back spread down his arms and the back of his legs. It’s just like at home, if it wasn’t for me my parents wouldn’t be fighting. THIS IS ALL MY FAULT!

The spreading heat turned ice cold. Like ice daggers in his brain and snowmelt in his veins. Peter’s head snapped left and right looking for a solution. He spotted it, a mop left out to dry by a janitor leaning against the wall nearby. He dove across the dusty ground, rolled to his feet and snatched up the mop. It felt right in his hands, the weight and balance similar to his scythe. He dropped into a ready stance, the scythe… mop… behind him and one hand in front. It felt good to be balanced again.

“What’re ya gonna do wif dat? Clean me clock?” Billy chuckled at his own joke. “Woodsy? Snip snip.” He didn’t bother even stand up straight, just took another drag.

The twin holding Pham’s hair changed targets, aiming to cut below his hand and take off half the length. Peter spun the handle, stepped in and whipped the mop head up, knocking the scissors out of the boy’s hand. He slid his foot right, spun backward and pulled the handle around in a tight arc, slamming the butt end into the back of the twin’s knee.

“Argh! My leg!” The boy’s knee folded like a cheap suit, crashing into the ground and losing his grip on Pham’s hair. “I’ll kill you.”

Rather than letting his opponent get up and try, Peter took a stutter step forward and slammed the butt of the scy… mop against his temple and dropping him like a sack.

The other twin overcame his shock and lunged at Peter. “I’LL kill you!”

Warren threw himself across the ground and wrapped his arms around the boy’s legs, tripping him and bringing him into range of Peter’s weapon. Another whirl and a crack and both of the twins were out cold. Peter nodded at Warren, who flopped onto his back, exhausted.

Billy levered himself off the bike shed wall and raised his hands in surrender. “Yer got me. Give up. Take yer friends and go.” He stuck the vape stick back in his mouth. “Ain’t gunna make no difference no how. I still got me lil’ matey tha’s gunna make sure I pass. This was just a warnin’.” He took a deep pull on the stick and wandered off, whistling a jaunty tune and leaving his unconscious compatriots lying where they fell.

Peter looked around the scene of the melee. Pham was still sobbing on the ground but Warren was trying valiantly to drag himself over to his chair. Peter dropped the mop and righted the chair, pushing it close to Warren and offering a hand back up. “Are you doing alright?”

Warren settled back into his seat and felt himself over. “No injuries I can feel. Go make sure she’s okay.”

Pham was still kneeling and kening softly, holding her hair in both hands and wringing it like a rag. As Peter approached she stuck out a hand and waved him away but he ignored it. He knelt beside her and rubbed her back. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

“They were going to cut my hair!” Fat drops fell into the dust. “What if my gram-gram found out? Oh gods, she can never find out! She’ll shave my head again.”

Helping Pham to her feet, Peter guided her around the prone forms and followed Warren as he rolled away from the scene. “Library?”

“Library. Bully and his cronies probably don’t even know where it is.”

When they were comfortably ensconced in the free reading section of the library, Pham finally began to return to normal. She stopped pulling at her hair and actually looked at Peter when he spoke. “What do you mean your grandmother would shave your head again?”

Pham shook her head. “No, you don’t get to ask. You can do this on your own, remember? Why are you even here?” She shook a finger under his nose. “I tried to help you and you turned your back on us.”

“To be fair, I thought you were the one who was swapping the tests for Bully.” Peter picked up a pillow and hugged it.

Warren rocked back in his chair, balancing on the rear wheels. “And now you don’t?”

“Bully said he still had a minion who would swap the test results.” Peter punched the pillow a couple of times to try to get comfortable. “I’m guessing that means someone who wasn’t there.”

“And?” Warren rocked back and forth on the balance point.

Pham kicked Peter in the shin. “Yeah, and?”

Peter wrestled with the cushion some more. “And… I’m sorry. I was wrong. But I did just save your butts.”

“From a situation that was your fault.” Pham kicked him again, harder.

Peter bit the pillow and yelled into it. “Ow! That really hurt. Come on, I didn’t ask Bully to grab you. How did he even know where you were, anyway?” He rubbed his shin, trying to massage the pain away.

Pham drew back to kick again but Peter pulled his leg out of the way. “That would be the unknown minion, you ass.”

“I know. That’s why I apologised.” Peter threw the pillow at Pham, who batted it back at him.. “And now…”

The front wheels of Warren’s chair dropped onto the floor with a thump. “And now..?”

“And now,” Peter finished, “I need your help.” He explained the situation, how he was going to prove Bully was cheating, how he needed to ace the math exam that afternoon to do so, how he needed to save Averton. Everything. His eyes burned and he buried his face in the pillow but he kept talking. He could feel the tingling cold starting to spread across his shoulders, but there was no threat to face, no scythe to swing. Just an intense roiling melange of emotions playing havok inside his ribcage, bursting to get out.

A warm arm laid across Peter’s shoulders and the tingling slowly abated. Peter looked up to see Pham sitting beside him. Though she had her arm wrapped around him, she was facing away. “My gram-gram found out that I had tried to cut my own hair to save money. I followed a tutorial I found online,” her voice was very small and far away, barely audible even in the quiet of the library. “The thing is, I got it wrong. Only a little bit, but she noticed and I got thrashed. And when she was done, she shaved all my hair off. Said I’d done such a bad job that I didn’t deserve to have hair.” She gave Peter a squeeze. “At least you still have a mum and dad. Even if they still break up, you still get to see them. I’ll never get to see mine again.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Peter didn’t feel right hugging her back, so he tightened his grip on the pillow. “You’re right, I shouldn’t complain when other people have it worse.”

“Pfft, yer allowed to feel bad,” Warren interrupted. “You wouldn’t stop feelin’ happy cos someone else is happier, why think you can’t be down just cos someone else has it worse?”

Pham dropped her arm and gave Warren’s chair a shove with her foot. “Fine. You’re right. Now how do we fix it?”

Digging into his backpack, Peter pulled out his tablet. “First up, I need to pass this exam this afternoon. Combinations and permutations, according to my schedule.”

Eyes widening, Pham slapped Peter on the back. “You might be the luckiest dumbass on the planet. We might be able to kill two birds with one stone. The map puzzle in Averton is a great way to learn about permutations and combinations.”

Warren spun his chair around. “Yeah, but that doesn’t help now. We can’t get online until after school. You’re just going to have give Peter a crash course the old fashioned way.”

Peter dug a little deeper into his bag. “That miiight not be entirely accurate…” He pulled out a small black oblong.