Mary Jane was already awake when I snuck in through the bedroom window.

"It never fails," she tells me, flipping absently through a magazine. "The one morning I had decided to actually wake up early and pull the whole domesticated housewife bit with some homemade breakfast, you decide to go all superhero on me."

I grin as I take off my mask and slip into bed besides her. "Sorry, MJ. Lord knows how I love a fresh batch of your expertly-prepared cornflakes." Without missing a beat, she rolls up the magazine and hits me soundly on the head, telling me that I'll consider cornflakes a blessing, at this rate. As I rub my head, she asks what the emergency had been.

With a sigh, I lean against her as I answer, "Our little green shellback friends. Donatello called me in the middle of the night, scaring the bejesus out of me. I grabbed Logan and conducted a quick search. It's not looking too good."

"Oh no," MJ replies, suddenly concerned. "Not Don. I actually like him. He reminds me of you… if you were, you know, reptilian."

"I'll rescue him so long as you promise not to hit on him, then," I laugh. Remembering about the situation, I get a little more serious as I murmur, "Still, there's something off about the whole thing. Either someone's lying, or someone's being manipulated. I'm actually afraid that Raphael may find himself in a heap of trouble soon enough, too."

"From what I remember," MJ says wryly, "Raphael was always the kind to get in trouble. Leave him and Logan to have some bonding time. They're better suited for one another."

"I can hear the wedding bells from here," I mutter sarcastically. Stretching out on the bed, I ask, "Any other Avengers that you'd like to pair up with the turtles so it's not my problem anymore? Since Don and I are so alike, that just leaves Leo and Mikey."

"How about this," she offers. "I'll think about it while you're off at work. You know, the normal civilian job that makes sure that you get paid so your beloved wife isn't the one stuck with all of the bills?" I groan and try to throw the covers over my head, but she pulls them away. "Go on, Tiger. Pour yourself a bowl of cornflakes and get out there into the real world." As I stumble out of bed and begin peeling my uniform off, I ask her what she had been planning on making me for breakfast.

"Sorry darling," she tells me with a small smile as she goes back to her magazine. "I'll give you a clue once you're done saving the world."

After teaching my seventh consecutive science lesson at Midtown High, I breathe a sigh of relief.

It doesn't last long though. Try as I might, I can't stop my stupid legs from deciding to go to Cooper Avenue. Standing at the corner, I observe the Halloween store that's caused so much grief since yesterday. It doesn't even have a cute name or anything. It's just called The Halloween Store. Simple but effective, I suppose.

I edge my way towards it, but my spider-sense goes off in double-quick time. Ugh. In civilian clothes, there's not much I can do. Heck, as Spider-Man, there's even less. I can't exactly crash into a brand new store in the middle of a busy little shopping avenue, proclaiming that I've "got a bad feeling about this." What I wouldn't give for a loyal sidekick, sometimes.

Because of the semi-tinted glass, I can't see much through the window except for those decorations that are lit. I wouldn't be able to recognize the turtles if they hang out in the back of the store, like my co-worker said. Seeing a book shop next door, I decide to head in there and see if maybe I can at least get close to the wall that separates it from the Halloween place.

I walk in and head towards the wall in question. There's a bargain book bin there, and I pretend to browse through it. As I make like I'm reaching out for a book in the back, I realize that it's no good. I can't even bear to be that close to this stupid shop. Maybe I should make a pit stop in the sewers, just to make sure that the turtles are okay.

"Despite this being the 'Big Apple,' it really is a small world," says a soft voice besides me. I turn around to see a vaguely familiar man smiling kindly at me, a used New Testament in his hands. It isn't until I recognize the German accent that I realize who's hiding beneath the image inducer.

"Howdy, Kurt," I tell Nightcrawler. "Nice digs. Santa must've brought you one heck of a hologram projector, huh?" His smile only falters by a little as he tells me to keep it down.

"One day, Parker," he remarks seriocomically, "I shall forget that we are friends. You will find yourself in a most unfortunate predicament, then."

His mention of "forgetting" brings me back to the turtles and the mysterious shop. "I know it's a long shot that a holy man like you would go in a place like that," I mention, "but have you been into the Halloween place next door?"

"Oh yes!" I'm amused by the bright smile and slight twinkle I can see in the man's eyes, as though thinking back on a fond memory. "It's quite lovely. Despite the rather dark elements surrounding the holiday, I can't deny being something of a fan of it. I couldn't stay long, however. Their upkeep leaves something to be desired. My sinuses couldn't take all of that horrid dust."

"You?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "The man who teleports in a puff of smoke that smells like sulfur is allergic to dust?" He gives me something of a glare, proclaiming that he's not allergic… except perhaps to that particular kind of dust.

I stop for a moment, thinking about where I had heard a similar argument before. "Kurt," I ask quietly, "did you see anything weird when you were in there? Like shadow puppets along the wall or, I don't know, some giant turtles hanging around the back?"

"Your ninja turtle friends?" Kurt muses. "No, I do not believe I saw them or these shadow puppets that you speak of. Why? Hopefully the turtles are not in trouble."

"I don't know," I tell him lowly. "But my spider-sense smacks me upside the head every time I go near that store, and you don't seem to be able to stand it in there for too long because of the dust… and at least one of the turtles is missing." Looking him in the eye, I say, "Kurt, you're an expert on all things occult."

"Most things," he corrects. "I am afraid that my knowledge of Santería is still a little-"

"The fact that you're even aware that you don't know as much about that as you'd like is enough proof for me," I interrupt. "Donatello's missing, and I think Michelangelo and Raphael are involved. Michelangelo most definitely; Raphael just claims that he knows less than I believe he does. I think that, before long, both he and Leonardo could face a whole lot of danger."

"Surely you jest," Kurt responds, surprised. "Michelangelo? Raphael? They are brothers, are they not? Why would one or both of them contribute to the disappearance of one of their own?"

"Oh," I tell him sarcastically, "you mean that's never happened in the X-Men before?"

"That's different," he snaps. "Any instances of that are usually attributed to brainwashing or shapeshifters or evil clones or…." He stops, realization dawning on his face. "Oh. I see. I think I can understand your concern. What can I do?"

"I'll explain the situation on the way," I say as I motion him out. "We're going to pay a visit to the turtles. What's left of them, at any rate. I just want you to observe the situation and see if it rings any bells about any paranormal activity you might've encountered before. If not, I'll rely on my science to help me figure this out rather than on occult mumbo jumbo."

"My," he tells me sourly as he follows me out, "you have such a way with words, Mr. Parker."

"Turtle boys? It's me again."

Sloshing through the sewers once again, I call out to the turtles. We had made a stop so I could change into uniform, and Nightcrawler got rid of the hologram. He's his normal, blue-furred, pointy-eared self, prehensile tail and all. We don't want to risk startling the turtles by bringing an apparent stranger down here. Not that things can get much stranger, but hey.

"Ech," Nightcrawler remarks, jumping from pipe to pipe. "And you claim that the turtles chose to remain down here rather than come live in the X-Mansion? I knew they were odd young men, but this is ridiculous."

"A mansion's not everyone's cup of tea," I tell him as I continue jogging through the tunnels. Cupping my hands over my mouth (even though the mask makes that attempt at amplification pretty futile), I call again, "Yoo-hoo! Any ninjas wanna step out of the shadows? It's your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, taking attendance for the day!"

I jerk to a stop, feeling someone in the vicinity. Whirling around, I see no one at first. I then see a shadow sprinting out of a nearby tunnel, headed towards us. "You want to announce our locale to everyone, Spider-Man? Maybe we'd be better off just showing you the way to the secret hideout." I'm about to tell him that a shell cell would suffice, but I get a sudden chill. That voice. It's… it's Donatello's.

"Donnie?" I ask as he slows to a stop in front of me. "Wh… you're okay!" He looks at me quizzically before asking why he shouldn't be okay. I stumble over my words for a moment, for once having no clue on what to say. Luckily, Nightcrawler intercedes.

"It would appear," he tells the confused turtle, "that there has been some sort of misunderstanding. Spider-Man was under the impression that you were in danger last night."

"Last night?" Donatello inquires. "The only thing I was in danger of was losing sleep because of Raphael's snoring. Other than that…." He thinks about it for a moment, then shrugs. "What would make you think that?"

I'm about to tell him how Wolverine and I found his bo, but I notice that it's strapped to his shell. I remember Raphael walking away with it yesterday, so I figure that's how he must have gotten it. "Y… you don't remember," I finally say. "You don't remember calling me in the middle of the night? Or about me meeting you and Raphael down here a few hours before that?"

By this time, Donatello looks thoroughly perplexed. "What are you talking about? We haven't seen one another for weeks. I spent all day yesterday inside, working on my new hydraulic elevator system that I'm trying to hook up in the lair."

"I can attest to that," Leonardo's voice says as he enters the scene. "At least, in theory. It's the only way he could have built that much so quickly." He stops besides his brother, looking at both me and Nightcrawler guardedly. "An Avenger and an X-Man. Why am I suddenly ill at ease?"

"You're not the only one, Mac," I mutter bitterly. Trying to wrap my head around all of this, I feel a sense of déjà vu coming on as I try to explain this again. "Okay. So. Halloween shop. Cooper Avenue. My spider-senses a-tingling. Shadow puppets on the wall. Donnie go bye-bye. Any of this ringing bells for anybody?"

"It is for me," Nightcrawler brings up sheepishly. "But I think that would be because you just told me the story about ten minutes ago." I tell him that he's no help before looking back to the turtles. They both seem to be deep in contemplation.

"Do you mean the new store that just opened in Glendale?" Leonardo asks. "I know that Michelangelo's dragged Raphael there a few times. Mike's offered to buy decorations for April's Halloween party, and Raphael begrudgingly goes along to make sure that all of our money doesn't disappear on the collection of practical jokes that they've also got in stock. …is there something going on that we should know about?"

"And just to set the record straight," Donatello throws in with a small smirk, "I'm not missing. Right here. Plan on staying that way until we get this thing sorted out."

Knowing that something weird is definitely going on now, I can't even bring myself to be relieved by Donatello's reappearance. I mean, the kid doesn't even remember disappearing… either someone's wiping their memories clean, or the turtles have found some way to fool around with my spider-sense and are testing it out with an overly-elaborate hoax.

"I've got a friend," I finally explain for the umpteenth time. "She told me that every time she goes into that store, she sees a guy dressed up as a giant turtle standing in the back, like he's transfixed by something. Thinking that it was one of you guys, I tried to go into the store, but my spider-sense threw me back, almost as hard as they did when we fought that Savanti demon. I came down here to look for you guys, and I found Raph and Don."

"You did what now?" Donatello asks, raising an eye ridge.

"Just bear with me," I tell him. "It gets better. Raph denies going to the store at all, telling me that he thinks it has something to do with Mikey. Don tries to give Mikey a call, but Mikey's shell cell is a bust. We part ways, and in the middle of the night, I get a call on my cell phone screaming for help. It sounds just like Donatello."

"Oookay," Donatello murmurs. "As Mikey would say, that's only a little bit creepy."

"Anyway, when I go out to investigate, bringing Wolverine with me because of his bloodhound nose, we find your staff on the roof of the Halloween store. We come down here and encounter Raph and Mikey. Raph claims that he didn't see me that day, and when he tries to call you, your shell cell's gone kaput, too."

"Let me guess," Leonardo interrupts. "You then got a terrified call from either Raph or Mikey, found their weapons thanks to Nightcrawler's teleportation powers, and have come down here. When we try to call whoever's missing, we'll be unsuccessful."

"Why Leo," I tell him, "is that a scoffing tone tingeing your voice, or am I simply overworked?" He gives me a sideways glance. It's not so much that he doesn't believe me as it is that he doesn't know what to believe. But since I seem to be under the impression that his brothers are in some kind of danger, he's more than willing to hear me out. Pointing towards his shell cell, I say, "Call Raphael."

Leonardo obligingly takes out his shell cell and begins to make the call, asking me if I found his sai. I shake my head, telling him, "It's just a hunch. And if my hunch is correct… tomorrow I'll probably come down here with Iron Man and ask one of your brothers to call you." He narrows his eyes at me, seeming to finally understand how serious I am.

"A few loopholes to your story," Donatello tells me. "Firstly, I'm right here. Secondly, I don't remember any of this and have very clear memories of what I've been doing over the past couple of days. None of my activities involve a Halloween store or—what was that you said?—shadow puppets. Thirdly, uh… I'm right here. Fourthly, I recently did one of my routine checks on all of the shell cells we have, making sure that they all work. Short of a dead battery or utter destruction, they should be working fine. As you can see, my shell cell is intact, and I make sure to charge it every night. Fifthly… I'm right here!"

As Donatello goes off on his tirade, I focus on Leonardo. His eyes are downcast, and I can see the grip on his communicator tighten just a smidge. Hm, wonder what that could possibly mean? As he worriedly puts the shell cell down, I tell Donatello, "Don't look now, but I think Leonardo's found a loophole to your loopholes."

"Huh?" Donatello turns to look at Leonardo, who forlornly puts his shell cell away. "Leo, y… you're kidding me! You couldn't get in touch with Raph? What about Mikey? I mean… come on, I just checked those shell cells myself not two weeks ago. I…." Visibly upset, he turns on the shell cell he had taken out to show Nightcrawler and me and begins placing a call, presumably to Michelangelo.

Leonardo's looking at me resolutely. "What's going on, Spider-Man? If you have any kind of information, I think it'd be best to let us know now." Sparing a quick glance to Donatello, I whisper to Leonardo to send his brother off so we could have a private chat right away. Though he looks at me with some suspicion, he gives me a single, slow nod.

"I can't believe this!" Donatello exclaims, putting his communicator away. "Spidey, what's going on? I mean, what you said… it doesn't make any sense. Whoever you spoke to wasn't me! Are there imposters walking around or something?"

"I doubt it," I tell him. "My spider-sense would have gone off if there was something amiss. I'm actually leaning more towards a memory wipe. Maybe you should carefully go over your memories of yesterday, to be sure-"

"They're real," Donatello insisted, somewhat petulantly. "There's no way that couldn't have happened. Look, I still have the mark from where Mikey almost took my finger off with the hammer when he tried to help me." He shows me his hand, and I can see the dark red bruise, as promised. This gets me to thinking some more, so I'm thankful that he can't see the Sherlock-ish expression on my face.

"Speaking of Mikey," Donatello adds, "I know I saw him playing video games when we left the lair. I'm going to look at his shell cell and see what's going on. Come on, Leo. We'll give you a call if something comes up, Spidey."

"Actually," Leo quickly says, "I want to talk to Spider-Man some more. See if I can wrack his brain for any details that he's neglected to tell us. You check those shell cells; I'll catch up with you later, Donnie." Donatello looks like he's about to object, but he nods and waves to us as he speeds back in the direction from whence he came.

Turning to me, Leonardo says, "I hope there was a perfectly good reason for me ditching my brother, Spider-Man." I ask him if Donatello has these tunnels bugged. "Most likely," he answers. "That's how we picked you up on the early warning system. I don't know where else he's got surveillance, but I'd think that it's safe to assume that Donatello won't be listening in."

"Personally," Nightcrawler says as he takes hold of both mine and Leonardo's arms, "I would rather not 'assume' such things." I prepare myself for the strange bamf sound and plume of smoke that accompanies all of his teleportational jaunts, but I'm guessing Leonardo hadn't. It's probably likely that he also wasn't prepared for the bolt of queasiness that comes with the teleportation.

When Nightcrawler lets go of us, it looks like we're in a secluded area of Forest Park. Leonardo backs away from Nightcrawler, bewildered and disoriented. Shaking his head, he looks around and glares at Nightcrawler reproachfully. "Yeah, that teleporting thing? Don't do that to me again. Ever. Not without my permission, anyway."

"Forgive me," Nightcrawler tells him, the smile on his face telling us that he probably isn't at all apologetic. "It is not that I do not trust your brother, but from what Spider-Man has told me, I decided against taking any unnecessary risks. I am sure you will understand."

"I sure hope so," Leonardo says, looking to me once more. "Because as it is, I don't understand a single thing right now. You believe that something's replaced my brother's memory with mundane details to cover up… a dastardly kidnapping from which he was safely returned a few hours later?"

"I would've thought you'd be the first to know," I tell him, hiding in the shade of a tree and feeling calm enough to sit by it. "You can't ever trust what you see with your eyes. Yeah, that looks like Donatello, sounds like Donatello, acts like Donatello, and heck, probably is Donatello. But one by one your brothers have been temporarily missing… and maybe they're not being 'replaced' by anything, but they can't be coming back right. It's nothing dangerous—at least, not yet—because my spider-sense isn't telling me to back off. But there's something in my bones—call it the basic human instinct, if you want—that's telling me that what's going on right now is some weird kind of… I don't know… incubation period. Calm before the storm, if that metaphor floats your boat. First, humor me in one of two experiments. This one is the checking of the shell cells, one that I'm surprised that Donatello didn't bring up. Call him. Call Donnie and see if his phone works."

Leonardo looks down at me for a moment before obliging me. Nightcrawler sits besides me in the grass, a strange look on his face. I tilt my head at him inquiringly, but he shakes his head and looks down. Hoping that he was seeing something that I didn't, I look back up at Leonardo.

"Nothing," Leonardo proclaims. "Maybe my cell's broken, too."

"Maybe," I tell him, "which is what I thought was odd. Donatello didn't bother to check. Who else has a shell cell?" Leonardo tells me that Casey and April each have one. "Call Casey. Just to see if it works. Tell him that the phones have been acting funny lately, so you want him to call you back to see if things check out." Leonardo follows my orders without hesitating.

"Case," he says after a moment, only a little surprised. "Hey, it's Leo. …no, nothing's wrong. Some of the shell cells have been a bit out of whack lately, despite Donnie's maintenance check the other day. Mind giving me a call back to see if mine works? …thanks." He ends the call, looking down at me expectantly. His phone beeps and he quickly answers it. "Case, thanks. …yeah, I'll tell Donnie to look into whatever's messing with the others. I'll talk to you later."

As Leonardo hangs up, he slowly sets himself down on the grass, facing Nightcrawler and me. "Okay," he says lowly. "So there's your experiment. What did that prove?"

Breathing a sigh of relief, I answer, "It proves that I can trust you. Whatever it is that's affecting your brothers, it hasn't gotten to you yet. The question that remains is: do you trust me?" He gives me yet another guarded look. Knowing how hard it is to trust a guy wearing a bug-eyed mask, I look around to make sure that we're still alone. When I ascertain that we are, I pull the mask off, looking at him beseechingly. "Leonardo. Please. Do you trust me?"

He blinks, surprised that I had taken the mask off in public. He's seen my true face before, but he's never seen the head of Peter Parker on the body of Spider-Man. I guess it's a little trippy for lots of people when they first see it. "Yes," he finally replies. "Yes, I trust you, Peter."

Giving him a small smile, I slowly take out the small clear plastic case that I had been carrying on me. "Good. Then I can ask you to help with the second experiment." Seeing the hypodermic needle within, Leonardo scrambles backwards, shocked.

"Oh no," he murmured. "Spi-… Peter, no. I'm not sticking needles into any of my brothers. The last time you tried to use one of your injections to fix things, Mikey was sick for hours. First of all, I'm not cleaning that mess up again, and secondly, I'm not going to willingly subject any of my brothers to-"

"Relax, Katana Boy," I tell him, taking the needle out of the case. "Look, there's nothing in here. I'm not asking you to empty it into anyone. I'm asking that you fill it." This doesn't exactly soothe his nerves, so I put it back in the case and hand it to him as I quietly tell him, "I need a sample of your blood."

He says nothing for a moment, then asks, "For God's sake, why?"

Taking a deep breath, I slowly begin to tell him about the blood that Wolverine had found on the roof of the Halloween store. "He said he smelled two turtles up there. One was Donatello, but we don't know who the other is. Donatello didn't look injured today, and despite what might've happened, injuries can't heal that quickly. So I'm betting that the blood belongs either to Raph or Mike, or to whoever's started this mess in the first place. For me to know that for sure, I'm going to need a control sample that I can be sure is pure mutant turtle. Since I don't know what's going on with the other three, yours is the only blood I can trust right now. So I'll ask the question again: do you trust me?"

Trust must be a scary thing for mutants. Especially when they look like Leonardo or Nightcrawler. Kurt's placed his faith in God in the same way that Leo's placed his in his sensei. So what's an outcast to do when some puny human asks for his trust in sneaking around his brothers' backs? Especially when it concerns the very same kind of "experiments" that people like Agent Bishop would love to run on him?

Leonardo finally reaches out and takes the case. Without a word, he opens it, removes the needle, and doesn't even flinch as he draws his own blood. A look into his eyes tells me that he's well aware of the risk he's taking. Still, he seems to understand that he places even greater risks upon his family if he doesn't do as I ask.

"Does that answer your question?" Leonardo asks as he hands the case containing the filled needle back to me. I take it with a very grave thanks. He rises to his feet, looking down at me sternly. "You'd better find the answer to these riddles soon, Spidey," he tells me. "You haven't cracked a good joke all day. I'm starting to get worried." With a small smirk, he turns around and begins to run away.

"Leo!" I call, standing up. He stops and turns to look back at me. "Permit me one last moment of solemnity as I ask for one more favor." He asks what it is. "Find somewhere else to spend the night." He blinks at me, but doesn't answer. Slowly, he turns around and continues on his way.

Once Leo's out of sight, I sit back down besides Nightcrawler. "He will not listen," he tells me. "He is more worried about his brothers than about his own safety." I respond that I know, but that it doesn't hurt to try.

Leaning against the tree, I look at him. "So, Mr. Occult Specialist; comments, theories, strange ponderings? I'm more than willing to accept a stab in the dark, so long as it doesn't puncture any vital organs."

He doesn't reply for a moment, but continues to look down. "I am not sure," he answers at last. "The replaced memories seem to strike a chord. I would be willing to bet on a possession, if this is truly a case of the supernatural at work rather than the scientific."

"Can't be," I tell him immediately. "Wouldn't I be able to sense some kind of evil spirit lurking in their souls or something?"

Nightcrawler surprises me with a shake of the head. "Not necessarily. Actually, you seemed to stumble upon something quite interesting a moment ago. You mentioned that this resembles some sort of 'incubation period.' I have heard of some spirits that, upon entering a chosen host, lay dormant for a certain amount of time until they become firmly enough rooted in the vessel's body to reach their full strength. Presuming that Donatello or one of the others is infected with this spirit, your spider-sense would not be able to pick it up, since it is posing no immediate threat. The intruder is asleep, and you really are speaking to the turtle instead of the spirit."

I ponder over this, staring at the plastic case I hold in my hands. "So… when would this spirit wake up? And what happens to the turtles when it does?"

"That would depend entirely on the spirit," Nightcrawler responds. "Some spirits require a longer period of dormancy than others. What I worry about, however, is that this may be the kind of spirit that can awaken at will, surprising its vessel with its sudden takeover. I fear that that may have been the result of Donatello's frightened phone call to you. As for what may happen to the turtles when the spirits fully awaken, either their own souls will be temporarily locked away or… they will not be so temporarily removed."

I close my eyes as I look down, clenching the case in my hands. "Can't let that happen, Elf," I tell him. "Even if they weren't honorary Avengers and a part of my team, they're still a good group of kids."

"I do not intend on letting any such thing happen," Nightcrawler replies. "I am one of the good guys, remember? I will go back to the mansion and look through my books. The mention of shadow puppets seems hauntingly familiar, reminding me of ritualistic magic. If I can pinpoint the ritual, then I can identify the spirits and thus figure out how to eliminate them while protecting their chosen hosts. It does seem rather odd that four mutant turtles would be their target-"

"What," I ask, "you mean the concept of four mutant turtles isn't odd enough?"

"Touché," he says with a small smile. "However, you forget that I live in a rather large household with dozens of mutants of all varieties. I was simply remarking on what it was that could have made these four so special. Still, after witnessing their true power during our last encounter, I suppose I should not be surprised."

"Speaking of surprises," I say as I pull on my mask. "Better cover up. I sense civilians approaching and if you look like that, I won't miss a photo opportunity if it means being able to deck you just once."

"Cute," he states, turning his image inducer on. As the human hologram covers his body, he tells me, "You are quite lucky that I err on the side of good. Ah, if only you would actually do something wrong, enabling me to beat you into a coma without remorse."

"Don't tempt me," I tell him with a grin as I rise to my feet. "I think this friendly rivalry of ours gets just a little less friendly every time we meet up." I offer him my hand to shake, which he accepts with a large smile.

"Yes," he admits, "but ironically, that seems to imply that we have become closer friends."

Right on cue, a family of four happens upon us. The kids get excited, apparently thinking that I had just rescued some poor defenseless man from some danger or the other. "No worries, kids," I tell them. "He just tripped. Clumsy like that, I guess." Kurt gives me an unappreciative glare. I suddenly feel something wrap around my ankle and pull my foot out from under me before I could jump away. As the kids giggle, I realize that Kurt's invisible tail had just made me out to be a fool.

"Thank you so much for the assistance," Kurt says sarcastically as he stands. "My hero!"