Everyone knew to avoid the thorn bushes. They grew in spiky tangles around the perimeter of the schoolhouse grounds, stretching all the way to the horizon on the side that wasn’t framed by forest or beaten paths, and supposedly the thorns kept out the monsters, but there were rumors it kept some in as well. The bushes had red thorns and black vines, and if ever someone was bold enough to touch them, the texture of steel covered in oil. Rusk avoided them same as everyone else until one day he saw Mandy marching boldly over to the closest knot of thorn by the schoolyard’s lonely exit and kneeling down close enough to reach out and touch the darkest part of the roots.

Rusk stopped in his tracks, watching her dig around in the dirt under the fiery descending sunset. The thorns prickled crimson, hungry, inching closer to Mandy’s arm. Rusk could swear he saw the bushes slither and move, slightly but undeniably, and then halt in their advances whenever Mandy glanced their way. He could also swear he saw a faint smirk on Mandy’s lips, as if this were some game she were winning with the plant, and that sent searing concern all through Rusk. Everyone knew the thorns were poisonous.

So why? What was so important.

He found himself jogging closer. Before he could reach her, she pulled her arm out from under the tangles, an object in hand glinting orangey gold, and then she removed the chain of keys from her neck and added this new one. A key. Rusk realized he’d never asked, but he always wondered why she kept them around her neck, what they were for.

Now was as good a time as any, after two years of camaraderie against the bullies, two years of steady friendship.

“What did you find?” asked Rusk, to break the ice.

“A fresh key,” answered Mandy. She wiped the dirt off her hands onto her skirt. Red, today. She’d taken to wearing red a lot in these past two years. She used to wear green or purple, sometimes blue. Rusk had also never asked why she’d changed her fashion, but he had more pressing matters now that the conversation was open for him.

“So how come you collect keys?”

“I don’t collect them. I’m looking for a specific one.”

“Why?”

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“Because my father told me to.”

“Why’d your father tell you to?”

“Do you ever stop asking why?”

Rusk shut his mouth. Mandy had never outright refused to answer a question before. It made something queasy churn around in Rusk’s stomach, bile threatening to rise. A foreboding. A warning not to press the issue. But Mandy was Rusk’s first and so far only friend, and he told himself he needed to know if she was in trouble.

Reaching into the thorn bushes could only mean trouble, even if it was for the sake of a trinket.

“I didn’t mean to make you mad,” said Rusk.

Mandy watched the sunset. It blazed and began to die, fading from red to purple, black, and blue.

“Really,” said Rusk with emphasis. “I’m was just curious. I’ve been curious for a while but I never got up the balls to ask.”

Mandy snorted. “The balls?”

Rusk smiled at her, always proud to make her laugh even if she smothered it before the sound could get all the way out of her throat. Come to think of it, she’d been doing that a lot lately.

“Do you still like me?” asked Mandy, and Rusk sputtered before realizing she’d changed the subject instead of answering his question.

“Hey! Stop trying to distract me! But yes I still like you. Why wouldn’t I? You’re perfect.” As soon as it was out of his mouth he wanted to take it back. He believed the words, but the look Mandy shot him could only mean he’d somehow offended her. There was an apology on his tongue, ready to burst the air, but Mandy spoke first.

“Nobody’s perfect. Not even heroes. And especially not me. Rusk, you say you like me, and we’re friends, but what do you even know about me? Really? What do you really know?”

Wind blew.

“Is this a test?” asked Rusk. He could list so many things, but he doubted that was the point she was trying to make. Unfortunately, knowing what point she wasn’t making didn’t exactly help him with whatever point she was. He was clueless there, so he took a trick from her conversational arsenal and changed the subject. “Mandy, are you in trouble?”

The sun had fully set. The schoolyard was empty. Everyone else, including their teacher, had already gone home. They were alone in a darkened world, with poisonous thorns their only available overseer.

“Yes,” said Mandy. “I’m in trouble.”

She didn’t sound like she believed her own words. Rusk shifted his weight to the other foot.

“Well, hero. Are you going to help me?”

“Of course I’ll help you, Mandy. Obviously.” It was only after the words were out of his mouth that he realized he didn’t know what he was agreeing to, but he wasn’t about to take them back now. He cleared his throat and put on his best hero voice. “So, milady. Show me the danger.”

Mandy had the good grace to humor him. She bowed at the waist dramatically, sweeping her hand towards the forest beyond the perimeter of thorn bushes, the path they usually took to the schoolhouse together. “This way, milord. And brace thyself.”

The wind cackled as it wove through the trees, rattling leaves as loudly as chains.