<b>The </b><b>teenage </b>boy, no more than thirteen or fourteen, had none of <b>his </b><b>usual </b>swagger tonight. There was a seriousness in his voice, a determined look <b>in </b><b>his </b><b>eyes</b>.
“Alright then. If I ever let Lessie down, you can beat me up and toss <b>me </b><b>out</b><b>, </b><b>Fair </b>enough?”
Zachary could sense the boy’s sincerity, so he didn’t brush off the promise. Instead, he gave it real consideration and answered just as earnestly.
Dinner was nearly over when a low rumble of thunder echoed from the sky.
“Looks like it’s going to rain,” Xander said, ncing upward. The clouds were ck and heavy, blotting out everything.
“We’d better not overstay,” he added.
“Yeah, school’s tomorrow. Take an umbre when you leave, or you’ll get soaked,” Xander said, remembering at thest moment that Monday was just around the corner, and shelving his earlier thought of asking Alessia to stay the night.
“Grab one for me, would you?” Alessia said. She didn’t say who she was talking to, but Six immediately shoveled down thest bite in his bowl, set it aside, and headed for the front porch.
Just as the two of them slipped out, another p of thunder rolled by, and then the rain began, a gentle drizzle at first, quickly swelling into a steady downpour.
1
Six sat on the doorstep, watching raindrops ssh into the yard, pooling into little puddles across the gstones. His gaze grew distant, as the rain picked up.
The sky had darkened, and the rain turned heavy. A boy–maybe ten or eleven–came racing into the alley, water sttering over his already battered sneakers. The soles, long worn thin, finally gave out.
He looked at his ruined canvas shoes, then nced back over his shoulder. With a huff, he ducked into the shelter of a crumbling brick wall, deciding to wait out the
storm.
Sitting down, he tugged off the shoes and inspected them. No fixing them this time. He set them aside, then peeled his soaked hair from his forehead and yan‘ ‘his oversized T–shirt over his head, using it to towel off as best he could. Afterward, he just stared at the rain, lost in thought.
Lately, it had been raining almost every day. Rainy season, people called it. He’d
<b>11</b><b>:</b>541
<b>been </b><b>caught </b><b>out </b><b>without </b><b>an </b><b>umbre </b><b>more </b><b>times </b><b>than </b><b>he </b><b>could </b><b>count</b>. Now <b>In </b><b>the </b><b>corner</b><b>, </b><b>he </b><b>shifted </b><b>until </b><b>he </b><b>found </b>a <b>spot </b><b>that </b><b>was </b><b>halfway </b></divfortable <b>nning </b><b>to </b><b>nap </b>until the rain let up<b>–</b><b>If </b>only life <b>would </b><b>let </b>him.
But peace was never his to keep. Frowning, he got up, grabbed <b>his </b><b>shoes</b><b>, </b>and followed the voices echoing down the alley.
“Come on, princess, just send us a little cash and we’ll let you go. You’re <b>from </b>Aristocrat Academy, aren’t you? What’s a few bucks to someone like <b>you</b><b>?</b><b>” </b>
“Yeah, have a little mercy, princess. I haven’t eaten in three days,” the blond–haired guy said with a sneer, sharing a look with his buddy before both of them burst <b>out </bughing.
They’d cornered a girl in a crisp, upscale school uniform. One after the other, they taunted her, their snickers grating and mean. The girl held an umbre, her face shadowed and unreadable.
“Hey. What the hell are you doing?” the boy called out, rubbing his head, his patience already worn thin.
The two thugs startled, but when they saw who it was, they rxed. “Oh, it’s just Six. Orphan boy himself.”
“What do you mean, orphan? His mom just ran off with some other guy, that’s all.”
“Yeah, exactly.”
Their jeering was loud and cruel, and, Six’s face darkened.
“Blondie, is it because I didn’t smack you hard enoughst time that you’re still running your mouth?” Six’s re made Blondie shrink back instinctively.
“Psycho,” Blondie spat, but he kept his distance.
Last time, he’d made a crack about Six’s mom, and Six had gone ballistic, swinging a brick at his head. Blondie still felt the ringing in his skull.
“He’s the one who clocked you?” his friend said, sizing Six up with open contempt. “Seriously, kid, mind your own business and scram.”
That was enough to push Six’s temper over the edge. He hurled his ruined shoe at them. Blondie’s friend deflected it; the shoended in a lonely corner of the alley.
Alessia tipped her umbre back just a little, her eyes meeting Six’s.
“Just keep walking straight and you’ll be out of here,” Six said, his voice steady, The two thugs bristled, growing even more annoyed.