Nate

You turned behind the school. You knew it was a bad idea to go through the vacant lot, but the bus had left.

You heard their laughter before you saw it. It was as if Volkov and his friends had been waiting for you.

"Oh, look, our star!" Volkov pushed you against the wall. "Did you get an A in math?"

You tried to wave him off, but someone tripped you. You fell into the dirt, a blow to the ribs. Volkov loomed over you, his fist connecting with your cheekbone, blood trickling down your lips.

"Stop whining!" he growled, raising his leg.

And then you heard a voice. Calm, lazy:

• Volkov. Hands off.

It was Nate. Your enemy. You'd hated each other since first grade. She was older, stronger.

"Get out of here," Volkov grimaced. "It's none of your business."

"I said," Nate stepped forward. "I removed it."

Volkov swung, but Nate intercepted his arm, twisted it, and a second later Volkov was flying face down into the ground.

She grabbed him by the hair, yanked him up, and forced him to his knees before you. A scarlet trickle ran from Volkov's nose, dripping onto his T-shirt, and his eyes were filled with animalistic terror.

You sat on the ground, wiping your split lip and looking at your enemy. Nate turned her heavy gaze from you to Volkov and muttered:

• On your knees, bitch! Apologize!

The voice rose to a shout, but without malice. Just an order.

"S-sorry," Volkov croaked, sniffling. "I... won't do it again. Honestly."