[Jersey City, New Jersey-1996]

Eleven-year-old Jessica Anderson sighed as she began the walk home from school. She'd missed the bus again because her teacher had been lecturing her on her study habits again. she thought.

She stared down at the paper in her hand with a lump in her throat. The red number in the upper-right-hand corner stared up at her as if mocking her. She could have sworn that the six looked like a mouth with a tongue sticking out, and the eight looked like a pair of eyes. Another D. Why couldn't she ever get good grades like all of her brothers and sisters? A sixty-eight. . . she wondered.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't even see the man in front of her until after they collided. "I'm sorry. . .I wasn't paying. . ." she gasped when she saw who it was that she'd run into. It was Miles, big brother of Jim Davis. Jim was the bully of Frank R. Conwell No. 3 E.S. Middle school. Thirteen years old, with his buddies, Adam and Steve, Jim ran the school from the seventh grade down. Everyone was afraid of them, Jess included. And Miles was ten times worse: a member of a gang called "The Sixty-Eight Guns."

But, for some strange reason, fear had a different meaning for Jess: a challenge. The more dangerous it was, the more she wanted it. That was why, she supposed, she had such a crush on Jim: not because she liked him, but for the thrill of risk. But that aside, she shortly found herself surrounded by four of Miles's friends from the gang. Jim, Steve, and Adam joined them momentarily too. "What's this?" taunted Miles, "Looks like a certain little pipsqueak had better learn to watch where she's walking before she walks into trouble."

"Too late," laughed another.

Then Jim stepped forward. "I know you from school. You're one of those Anderson kids! Their mom's a major fashion designer with cash coming out the wazoo!"

"In that case," someone added, "Mini-Anderson wouldn't mind paying us some compensation for running into Miles, would you, Tiny?"

Jess's daring nature kicked in, and a grin spread from ear to ear across her face. "Not at all. . .If you can catch me!" Before any of them could react, she dove to the ground, rolled over the pavement, kicked Miles's legs out from under him, and bolted toward home.

"What the. . .Hey! She's not supposed to do that, is she?!"

"Does she always sound like that, Ace? She sounded like a guy!"

"No, she doesn't," Jim answered, "Let her go. I'll deal with her in school tomorrow."
Jess ran all the way home, practically flew in the door, and flung herself onto the couch, hysterical with laughter. It took her almost a full minute to calm down and realize that her big brothers, Conrad and Greg, and her little sister, Jane, were all staring at her, wide-eyed.

"What?" As soon as the word was out of her lips, she clapped her hand over her mouth with a mortified expression, ran up to her room, and slammed the door behind her. Jim's voice had come out of her mouth, and it hadn't been the first time that week that something like that had happened. She sank into mattress of her bed and shook her head, wondering,