Shortly after Penbrooke’s daylight burglary, Cal found himself back in control of his body. It wasn’t that the theft had been noticed and flagged with the authorities, who – appalled and outraged by the crime – had taken it upon themselves to track down the perpetrator with utmost haste; this leading to Penbrooke being cornered and coming to the realisation that the corporeal world wasn’t very fun when surrounded by burly men with drawn weapons.

No, that wasn’t the case (although it should be noted a guardsman had sworn fiercely when Cal had passed by, but this was because said guardsman had woken up late with a nasty hangover and had only now summoned the courage to leave his bed and walk outside in his dire state, whereupon the realisation had struck him that today was the Riversdale Guard Force’s Knucklebones Tournament.

As it was too late for him to join in now, he would have to wait another three days for the next one – since knucklebones was a biweekly affair – and by his own admission he was no good at the darts, poker, and chess that filled up their guarding rota in the intervening period, hence his public meltdown at how unjust the world was and how he would never drink again.)

Rather, what had happened was Penbrooke himself had relinquished control of Cal’s body while muttering something about looking up where the AI control settings were.

Although the reasoning given was Old Felsian gibberish to Cal, he did recognise the fleeting window of opportunity it gave him before the oddball knight returned. He could only hope it would take Penbrooke a long time to go to a library and find his desired information, even if Cal suspected it would be the exact opposite what with the spirit realm being non-corporeal and all.

As such, in the limited time he had, Cal was determined to leave Riversdale to ensure that Penbrooke couldn’t have any more moments like those in front of Jessie’s family.

There was also the matter of returning the items Penbrooke had so gleefully filched – the knights of the old days must have had an astonishingly open-minded take on chivalry – but Cal couldn’t do anything about it as he had no idea where the spoils were being stored.

He had heard of dimensional storage items before – typically in the form of rings – that enabled you to store objects in a dimension divorced from this one.

In order to be functional, this ethereal space had to be stabilised and reinforced by a mage specialising in spatial magic, lest it suddenly collapsed and scrambled your possessions beyond reach and recovery. The efforts and arcane mastery required to carry this out translated into an exorbitant price tag, even for the half cubic metre of space Penbrooke seemed to possess.

Even if you ignored for a second how Penbrooke had come by such a valuable item, there remained the pertinent question of how he was accessing it seeing as there was only one treasure in Cal’s possession, and that happened to be a wealth of information, not a storage of items. Could it be Penbrooke’s dimensional storage was a spectral power linked to the spirit realm, perhaps?

All the same, it was a mystery to ponder on for another time since Cal was in a race against time right now.

He strode through the paved streets, and passed under the iron gates leading out from the inner village when he caught sight of two familiar figures coming in his direction.

One had spiky dark brown hair and fierce eyes, with striking scars notching his skin. Coolly smoking a cigarette, he wore a black leather jacket with ripped sleeves and nothing underneath, its zip undone to show off his ripped physique. The sole thing at odds with his bad boy image was his diminutive size, being only a few inches taller than Susie from the General Amenities store.

When he noticed Cal, he flashed a grin and elbowed his mate.

The second guy had a buzz cut and pudgy, cherubic cheeks that led to a hairless chin as smooth as a baby’s bottom. Despite being the same age as the bad boy, he had yet to outgrow his childish wardrobe as evidenced by the blue-and-yellow striped t-shirt and the blue shorts, topped off by a bright red baseball cap; none of this would have looked overly strange if not for his towering height and bulging beer belly.

“Hey Big Al, hey Billy,” Cal called out to them with a wave.

“Oh hey, Cal,” said Billy with a pure, innocent smile, rubbing his tummy as if he were hungry.

“Well, well, well,” Big Al started with a deep laugh, flicking ash from his cigarette, “Just who do we have here, huh?”

“It’s Cal,” Billy told him. “I just said a second ago.”

Big Al looked at Billy with a blank expression for several seconds, then returned his focus to Cal and continued as though he hadn’t been interrupted. “Now, I could have sworn you told us you’d be slaving away for your mum a few more weeks, and that you’d only be back when school started again.” He playfully punched Cal in the chest. “So, buster, how is it that you’re here right now?”

Cal shrugged. “There’s been a change of plan. She’s kicked me out early, saying I should go and explore the world like she did at our age.”

While Big Al was surprised at the news, Billy was far worse hit, becoming all unsteady on his feet like he’d been caught by a vicious hook shot. “What? You’re going?” Panic laced his voice. “But if you’re gone, who’s there for me to copy off? I’ll never graduate high school now…”

Big Al smacked his lips at his bigger friend. “Oh, come on, Billy – don’t do me dirty like this. You know I’ve got enough brains to pass the finals. You can rely on me.” He pounded his chest with the side of a fist.

Either Billy didn’t hear Big Al, or he simply didn’t share Big Al’s confidence, for he closed his eyes and pressed hard against his temples in a look of being overwhelmed; there was no getting through to that.

Big Al rolled his eyes at his histrionic friend, and returned his attention to Cal. “Anyways, you must be heading out now seeing as you’re carrying that massive bag on your back. No thoughts of hanging out with your old pals one last time before you leave, no?”

“I’d like to, mate, but I’m in a bit of a hurry,” Cal answered with a glum face. As vague as he was, Big Al seemed to understand his urgency as the bad boy nodded solemnly without enquiring any further. “So where are you heading off to, then?”

While Cal didn’t have anywhere specific in mind, he recalled Penbrooke’s mutterings in Jessie’s house. “I reckon I’ll start by going to Fragrant Grove. Not sure where from there, probably Cliquee.”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Big Al took another drag of his cigarette, his head shaking a little. “And here I thought you’d be going up the world, Cal, not down to those dumps.” Then, spotting something behind Cal, he tipped his head in the direction with a smirk. “Never mind that. Look alive, lads; we’ve got trouble incoming on our six o’clock.”

Swivelling around, Cal caught sight of a lanky individual swaggering towards them. “Oh, by the Saviour, that’s awful – someone’s gotta tell him swaggering just ain’t for him. His strides are too long, and his arms are swinging way more than is ever appropriate in public – it’s like he’s trying to hit everyone he’s passing by.”

The other two nodded at his words.

“They’re all distancing themselves away from him,” Billy said. “Look, that couple there just stopped to let him pass. It’s like he’s a wild animal on the loose.”

The others hummed in agreement.

Cal was the first to suggest something: “A frolic or prance would be way far more his speed. In fact, I dare say he’d kill them.”

“Better those than some random passerby,” quipped Big Al.

Impressed, Cal turned to him with raised eyebrows and lips curved slightly down. “Since when did you start quipping?”

“How about since forever? They call me the quip master, y’know.” Big Al gestured as though whipping someone with a flogger, simultaneously making the sound effect of a whip cracking the air.

Fucks sake, people are looking at us. Keep your BDSM nonsense to yourself when we’re in public.

“Nuh uh, they call you the whip master,” Billy responded in a tone that made clear how disappointed he was by his friend’s blatant lie. “I’ve never heard any of your biker gang friends call you the quip master.”

“Well, nuh uh to you,” Big Al retorted, “It’s actually the drip master.” He grabbed the rims of his open leather jacket and swished it in the wind. “Brand new too. What’d you think, huh?”

“Ugly.”

“Oh, says you—”

Cal clicked his tongue to interrupt their quibble. “What matters is that one of us tells him to stop swaggering.” He turned to the others and shrugged his shoulders. “And, y’know, I’m leaving so I guess it’ll have to be one of you two.”

“If anything, that makes you the best suited.” Big Al said, to which Billy nodded. “He can’t be angry with you if you’re leaving.”

“Fuck.” Cal turned back to face the swaggerer with a sigh, which was when suddenly it occurred to him that the swaggerer was the answer to his friends’ concerns about him leaving. “Actually, forget trouble, Big Al; he’s the answer to your troubles.”

Big Al hummed thoughtfully at the comment and stroked his chin, now viewing the incoming guy in a different light. “I mean, you’ve said it a bit too late after my original comment to be a proper quip, but I see it so I’ll give it to you.”

Indeed, putting aside his ungainly gait, the newcomer had the appearance of an intellectual due to his prim light-blue polo shirt, brown trousers held up by a belt, and black leather loafers. Bespectacled, he wore a smug smile, and carried with him a thick book.

As he approached the group, the newcomer bizarrely diverted from his path and took a few steps sideways so that he crossed a section of the street lit by bright sunlight.

What is he doing? Oh…

“Looks like I’ve come across a conclave of losers,” the newcomer announced, simultaneously pushing his glasses up his nasal ridge to make the lenses flash from the sunbeams overhead.

“Woah. Come on, Rudy – there’s no need for that,” Big Al said.

“Plain mean,” Billy agreed.

Yet Rudy just flicked his head back haughtily at their complaints. “The truth hurts, doesn’t it?” Then, pulling one leg back and squatting slightly, he pointed at Cal with gusto. “And if it isn’t my arch-nemesis, Calvin Hubbles. So how have you been spending your holidays?”

“Uh, I was back home, you know doing some work on the farm, helping—”

“Ha, while you were gaily wasting your time, frolicking with girls and horsing about,” Rudy cut in.

“I mean that’s not what I said, but go off.”

Rudy continued louder still until he drowned out Cal’s trifling excuses. “While you were idling away your lead through debauchery, I’ll have you know I’ve been diligently studying, expanding my knowledge, patiently preparing to…”

He paused, showing off the calculus book in one hand and raising his glasses with the other for added effect, “…crush you. That’s right: I’ll be top boy in our year this time, and take back from you what you stole!”

Bemused, Cal blinked a few times and thought of what he could say to placate Rudy. “Hey, listen, if this is about me taking your place in the group, I’ve told you before you can join us whenever. There’s no bad blood or anything.”

“You think I need your sympathy?” Rudy spat back, transitioning then into a smirk. “No, I’ll replace you the same way you did to me. After all, we all know there can’t be duplicate roles in the group. It needs to have perfect harmony: one midget bad boy, one giant village buffoon, and one flawless intellectual to lead them both.”

“Once again, unnecessarily rude,” Big Al said, causing Rudy to glare at him and Billy in turn.

“Look at how you cry now. Yet I didn’t see any tears from either of you traitors when this supplanter took my place. Instead, you simply got on buddy-buddy with him.”

Big Al raised his hands defensively. “That was like a decade ago! Besides, Cal’s chill, lad.”

Hearing this, Rudy thrust an open palm in front of them and held it there as though he were about to fire a beam out of his hand. “Do you know how much strength I’ve gained from a decade-plus of pain and desolation? I ask you, Big Albert, could you face up to my accumulated power, my accrued grievances?”

Big Al swiftly slapped tchhe outstretched hand down and glanced around to see if anyone had seen. His voice was laced with second-hand embarrassment: “Please not the powers stuff again, man. I’m begging you.”

Look who’s talking, Mr Whip Master. Though I do agree this is by far more embarrassing.

“Yeah, Cal’s going so we need you back in the group again,” Billy added. “But we can’t hang out with you if you keep doing this stuff. Our rep would never recover.”

“What?”

“It’s too embarrassing to be seen around,” Billy explained. “People will think we’re childish. You know, they’ll start serving us apple juice instead of cider at the pub and the like.”

Rudy blinked, momentarily speechless. “Billy, that’s not the part I was confused about, but I feel like I need to address it now: why does it matter if they serve you apple juice when you don’t like the taste of alcohol to begin with?”

Billy shook his head. “Like I said, it’s all about the image. That’s why I get them to serve my drinks in tankards so that no one else can tell that it’s actually juice.” He tapped the side of his forehead. “You always gotta think one step ahead in these streets, Rudy. Can’t ever be caught lacking.”

Seeing that Rudy was going to have an aneurysm trying to make sense of Billy’s logic, Big Al stepped in and clarified Rudy’s original point of confusion. “Cal’s leaving. He’s going to Fragrant Grove, then out into the world like his old lady did. So he won’t be sitting our final year with us.”

Crestfallen at the news, Rudy openly gawped at Cal, his mouth gaping open and shut like a fish stranded on land. “Huh… But…” His grief morphed into anger moments later, however. “You must have heard I was coming for you and planned to run away, right? Well, you’re dead wrong if you think you can run away first. I’ll show you!”

With this, Rudy pelted it in the direction Cal had been going; the others could only watch as he scurried off into the distance, his gangly limbs and blistering pace making him appear a wheel of knees and elbows barrelling down the street.

Big Al scoffed, shaking his head. “That boy never could be honest with his feelings.”

Billy, too, shook his head but for another reason. “See, Cal, that’s your fault for not telling him to stop swaggering. Now he’s going to crash into someone running like that.”

“That’s not even a swagger,” Cal exclaimed. “That’s… listen, whatever that is, it’s not a swagger.”

“Still you, man, still you.”

----------------------------------------

To the traitors two,

I had needed to go to the bathroom, so I had gone.

And when I came back, I saw him with you,

Breaking my batch of years, my bond

With the two who gladly laughed and shouted,

Playing catch; for when the blond

Threw the ball, my rules were aflouted.

I watched from the door;

I felt tears on my cheeks.

From the moment he’d scored higher;

I’d known for two weeks.

Now I’m stuck in this shameful snare,

Even though spelling’s certainly my weakest.

The new kid who comes from nowhere,

Joins late and makes my future the bleakest.

Now that I’ve caught you in the act,

It can no longer be.

When you come back begging, know

You’ve already lost me.