The bell rang, and he was practically the first one out the door.

Dumping everything into his backpack, Joe bounced on his toes as he jogged down the hallway, catching Frank by his arm. "C'mon c'mon let's go Frank Frank stop talking come on!"

The other gave him his "big older brother emphasis on old" look. Only older by one whole year. "I am. I'm walking. What's the rush?"

He gave up on trying to drag him anywhere and jogged in place beside him out the doors, the backpack bouncing against his back. "I'm so close! I just got to the good bit where the monsters came in and I've gotta fight 'em all! If I finish all my homework early before dinner Mom said she'll let me play it!"

One of Frank's friends, Tom, leaned around Frank and glanced curiously at him. "What game?"

"That new Zelda one. He got it for his birthday on Saturday and he's turning into a video-game monk."

Frank bopped him on the head with a grin and Joe tripped forwards on the path leading out the gates, skipping around to walk backwards. "Unh — critical hit!"

"Sweet! I wish I could get it, but I haven't saved up enough and my birthday's ages away. I wanted the Wii version too, but I think I'm gonna have to get the Game Cube one because Dad says he's not wasting money on a Wii, and besides it's also on the Cube—"

Joe sighed through his nose, rolling his head up to watch the puffy clouds drifting across the blue sky. Can't we go any faster? "I'm gonna walk ahead. Beat ya to the house!"

Frank caught him as he picked up the pace. "Hey, wait. We're supposed to go together, remember?"

"It's only a couple blocks—"

"And Alex literally gave you the knife in recess."

He slowed, slipping his thumbs through the straps of his backpack, abruptly remembering the older kid miming slitting his throat behind a teacher's back. Well yeah, he might've been mad but... "It's not my fault he was too dumb not to smoke cigs behind the school. He doesn't know it was me who tattled."

"Doesn't matter if he does or not, you're a target, and he's a bully—"

"Wait it was you who busted him?" Tom blinked.

He flapped his elbows aimlessly. "It was kind of an accident? Mr. Farrell asked me if I'd seen who'd been smoking cigarrettes out back by the path to the sports shed, 'cause I was around there, and I thought it might've been Alex. So he checked his stuff and found the pack."

"What, you saw him smoking and he didn't catch you?"

"Uh... yeah."

...Kind of hard to explain that he'd passed by later when they'd headed out to the playing fields. And then thought he'd smelled smoke, and when he wandered over got hit by a lightning-flash photo of Alex and his friends breaking the rules. Not without getting called "weird".

"He's starting to get better at detective stuff than Dad." Frank ruffled his head and he ducked again, pretending to throw punches at the hand with a grin of his own.

"Yeah, and I can take care of myself too!" When Frank hesitated he stuck out his pinkie finger. "Promise I won't walk too far ahead if you're gonna be slow?"

"...Fine." His brother accepted the pinkie and shook it. "But I need to pick up something at Rick's place, so wait on 407th for me, got it?"

"Yeah, by the old yard. Got it!"

He started off into a half-run, Frank's call pulling him up short for second. "And watch out for anybody following you!"

He swung around, jogging backwards, and yelled back. "I said I got it! Seeya!"

Darting off again, backpack bouncing against his spine, he headed for home. Wasn't like Alex would even remember, probably. He hadn't seen him since class ended, and yeah maybe he was the biggest target in the school, but the bully was all bark and no bite. Besides, he'd probably taken the bus, like he usually did.

He'd get home in fifteen minutes and then it was goodbye homework...

He was being followed.

Joe hiked up his backpack a little higher, fingers tight around the straps. His hands felt clammy as he hunched a little further, hoping they'd just go away if he avoided them. They'd showed up just before the old yard, where he was supposed to wait, and he'd tried to act natural, continuing on instead of waiting, hoping they were just hanging around for... some other reason—whatever bullies did when they weren't trying to beat the snot out of you—but they were definitely after him.

I'm so screwed.

"Oh Joeeee..."

Why'd he left ahead of Frank? The snickers that broke out behind him made his teeth clench, and he could hear their footsteps coming closer no matter how much he tried to speed up. A quick glance behind spotted three of the older kids, Alex, DJ, and Seth — grade six and mean.

And coming up quick.

Throwing out trying to will them out of existence, he broke into a run.

"Hey!"

"He's trying to get away!"

Footsteps pounded behind him, fingers snatching at his pack and catching for a second — gotta—! He wriggled out of his backpack, throwing it behind him and scrambling ahead, darting down the worn sidewalk past the tight rows of houses.

"Hey you little sh—!"

The park was just ahead, trees and grass over the street — maybe he could— Running for all he was worth, his heart pounding in his lungs, he darted out onto the road.

And a car came out of nowhere, hurtling at him and nearly running him over. He squawked, diving for the grass, pure prickling cold shooting straight up his spine. Way too close.

And so were the bullies. Nights nights nights — Frank was right, they really were after him. He threw only a panting glance over his shoulder at the older kids sprinting over the tarmac, and scrambled to his feet.

Just gotta get to the other side and down the gap between the pink-roofed house's hedge and the picket fence and then he could sit tight in Miss Jemmerson's place instead—

Fingers dug painfully into his shoulder.

"Uhf!"

The next second blurred into green and blue and grass thudding into his face, somebody's chin and angry yelling mouth and longish brown hair flicking through his view like a snapshot.

"—Little twerp!"

"Get off me!" He shoved and kicked out, his pulse pounding in his head, trying to get Alex's hand off his shirt as it yanked him up. Lashing out with his foot again, he aimed between the legs, his breath exploding out in an oof as the guy squealed like a girl and dropped him.

Head still spinning, all scrambling arm and legs, he tried to shove away again, but another hand snatched him, digging in hard enough to make a bruise, clamping around his upper arm. "Auh!"

No matter how hard he struggled, the older kid didn't let go, hissing in his ear and clamping a hand over his mouth when he tried to yell for help. This was bad this was bad this was bad—

"—shut it you little—"

He tried to bite the hand, but he couldn't catch any skin, and the insults in his ears turned to snickers. "Not letting you go this time, weirdo. Nobody around to help you run away."

Hard and rough tree-bark slammed against his back, and he choked on a grunt, glaring into DJ's dirty-blue eyes and moving to try and kick him, too—

A knee to his stomach sent pain flashing straight through his middle, and for a second he felt like he might throw up. He tried to curl up, gasping raggedly, but a hand yanked him back by the hair, the smell of musky sweat thick and almost suffocating. Crying out, he scrabbled at the arm, his eyes not focusing right and his stomach a ball of pain and his hair felt like it was being torn out by the roots—

"Sto— stop it! I didn't do anything! Let me go!" His vision had gone all blurry, pain making tears prick his eyes as he gasped the words out.

"How about no." Two faces grinned at him and one glared from the back, Seth taking an arm, yanking it away from DJ's, and twisting it until his breath strangled in his throat with a raw choking noise. "You ran away. You should know you're not supposed to do that — now we gotta make this even worse."

"I'm not gonna give you anything," he spat out, almost choking as he fought to hiss in air, his fingers tightening weakly around the grip still pulling his hair out, his throat tight and scrunched up against the pain in his middle and shooting through his other arm. "My dad's a cop — he'll put you away for... for life!"

"Ooh I'm so scared," the other mocked him, yanking tighter at his hair.

"A-ah!"

"I think we'll just take your backpack and go dump it in the river. How does that sound, Unnatural?"

He tried not to make a sound, his eyes almost scrunched closed and teeth clenched so tight tingles ran through them and his jaw ached.

"For some kinda magical pixie he's really weak," Seth sneered, and a rough shove jolted his head to the side, a cry escaping when DJ yanked it back again. "Gonna do something, weirdo? Hah, guess you can't."

He tried to prise the fingers out of his hair, struggling to move his other arm out of the awkward pin. "Let me— let... let me go—"

"Or you'll do what? Because I'm about to kick your balls in, pixie," Alex's voice growled, and he saw a blur of angry sixth-grader in the corner of his teary eyes looming up, blocking out the sunlight.

Why couldn't they leave him alone? It wasn't like he'd asked to be an Unusual. Why'd he ever said anything — why'd he opened his stupid mouth and been so proud about having some stupid magic powers that didn't do anything— Why'd he been such a little stupid kid—?

He caught Alex tensing to kick him and tried to brace himself, twisting away as much as he could even if it yanked at his hair and sent sparks of pain shooting up his shoulder—

A thud.

"Ngh-ah!"

The shadow disappeared.

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

Suddenly all the twisting and pulling dropped, and he gasped in a breath, sagging down against the tree and wrapping his arms around his aching middle. What was—?

Frank! He caught his brother's blazing eyes a second before a kick sent DJ stumbling into Seth, and Alex was doubled-over on the ground groaning and holding his side. "Fr... Frank?"

He found himself yanked up, Frank's panting breaths loud in his ears as he stumbled away from the tree. "Can you run?"

"Uh—"

"Get him!"

He found himself stumbling almost onto his hands and knees when Frank grunted, shoved into him, and he twisted just in time to see his brother's head snap back as DJ punched him. "Hey—!"

A hard shove sent him sprawling, a harsh laugh echoing in his ears. "Some rescue!"

He rolled, scrambling back like a crab and lashing out with his feet, Frank and DJ tussling off somewhere else. Seth kicked with his own foot, and he barely dodged, ducking away and covering his head. Couldn't fight him off while he was on the ground.

Panting, he shoved away, bare knees and arms scraping the grass and twigs, and tried to launch himself back up onto his feet—

"Augh!" Pain flashed across his shoulder, and he stumbled back, almost falling again, Seth all up in his face. He flinched as the bully's hand snapped forward and grabbed his shirt, his other fist taunting him.

"You want me to hit you again? Do you? Come on Unnatural!"

He gasped in heaving breaths, gritting his teeth and lashing out with a jab at the other's side, trying to hit a kidney like Dad had taught them. Seth flinched but didn't drop him, a hand crushing his wrist and spit flying in his face. "You little jerk!"

Thonk!

A fist slammed into the side of the bully's head, and Joe heard his jaw click.

"Don't," Frank panted, wiping at his nose and spitting something to the grass, shaking his hand out, "Touch. Him."

With that, he turned and pushed Joe, shoving the straps of his backpack — where'd he picked that up? — at him. "Go go go go go!"

"But—" He started running, twisting to look over his shoulder only to find Frank snatching up his own and stumbling after him.

"Go!"

They ran. Shouting rang out behind, branches slapping his face as Frank nudged him down through the bushes and they crashed through the gap. Hurtling down past the picket fence, out along the street, the yelling cut off, but they didn't stop.

By the time they made it to Miss Jemmerson's front yard, his middle was on fire. He practically collapsed on the grass by the rose bushes, hugging his backpack and heaving in air.

Vaguely he felt Frank kneel next to him, a hand on his back. "Joe? You... hff-hff you okay?"

"I'm... I'm okay," he gasped out, glancing up at Frank. He had red smeared all up to his nose from a cut on his lip, dripping down into his mouth as he caught his breath and wiped at it again with a wince. It kind of seemed fuzzy, though. Far away.

When Frank glanced down at him again, his eyebrows scrunched. "You're shaking."

Abruptly, he felt the shivering running across his shoulders and down to his hands, even as they clenched on his backpack, pressure threatening behind his eyes. Stupid stupid stupid. "I didn't think they'd... Th-they actually..."

It all played back through his head again — the sixth-graders running him down and grabbing and hitting at him, and he— "I-I-I couldn't— I couldn't d-do anything—"

Tears pushed out of his eyes anyway as his voice wobbled, and he clenched his teeth, tightening his arms around the backpack until they shook worse.

"Hey— hey you did good. You didn't even get a scratch!" Frank wrapped his arm around his neck and knuckled his head. "And Alex already looked half-dead when I got to him."

He sniffled, easing up his death-grip on the backpack a little and wiping at his nose. "Kicked him in the nuts."

"Good," Frank said it so satisfied that he almost blinked as he glanced up to see the hard look on his face. "He deserved it."

He tried for a watery smile. "Did you hit him again?"

Frank shook his head. "I got him in the kidney from behind."

"I tried that with Seth when he got me..."

"Try jabbing him in the eye next time," Frank suggested, shifting to kneel and glancing up at the house. "There were three of them and one of you — it counts as self-defense."

He glanced up too, to see Miss Jemmerson's door swing open, the woman hurrying out onto the porch and lifting a hand to her mouth. "Frank? Joe? What happened?"

She hurried down even before she'd finished asking the questions, and he stumbled back onto his feet with the help of Frank, hissing between his teeth at a twinge shooting through him.

"Three of the older kids ambushed Joe," Frank explained.

Her face tightened, and she ushered them towards the door. "Let me call your parents so they can pick you up, boys. Three of the older ones? Do you know who it was?"

"Alex, Seth, and DJ."

She rested her hands briefly on both their shoulders, giving them a nod. "You both look shaken up — here, have a tissue for that lip, Frank. Both of you, take a seat on the couch; I'll be back in a moment with some ice."

Joe nodded back, dumping his backpack on the floor and wandering over to the couch in the small living room. The smell of old dusty fabric puffed out of the cushions, and little glitters poked at him with it, like echoes of people sitting down and chatting and being alone and crying. Wouldn't be able to feel that if he was normal. He curled up with his arms around his knees. All my fault.

Frank hesitated in front of it, and he could feel his eyes on him, holding the tissue to his top lip. "They'll take care of it. The school'll punish Alex and his friends."

He rested his chin on his knees, gaze tracing the flower patterns on the rug. "I know."

His brother flopped back next to him, poking him with the toe of a shoe. "You're not a weirdo."

Turning his head on its side, he squinted at him. "Are you a mind-reader?"

He grinned and pushed him gently. "And I'm not an Unusual." The grin faded and brown eyes flicked over his face. "They're just bullies who want somebody to pick on, Joe, you know that, right?"

"Mm." He planted his forehead on his knees, and Frank went quiet beside him. Yeah, just bullies. Except once everybody knew about him being an Unusual they all decided they hated him and everyone in second grade didn't even talk to him anymore. Why'd he been so dumb in first grade...

Even the air felt heavy, and sad, like the feeling was stuck in the couch's cracks. For a second he thought he heard a woman crying, and he pressed his eyes against the knobs of his knees until flickers of light burst behind his lids. Stupid whispers...

"Is everything alright in here?"

He glanced up to see Miss Jemmerson walking in with a pair of ice-packs, and she offered them both a small smile. "I'll call your parents in a minute. Is there anything you want? A glass of water? I have some fudge cookies on the table in the kitchen you kiddos are always welcome to, and feel free to use the bathroom."

"I'm good, thanks."

"Not hungry. Thanks." He took the ice-pack she gave him, and she glanced over him, her lips pursing and eyebrows furrowing lightly.

"Where were you hurt, Joe?"

He slipped the pack up under his shirt and hugged his knees to his chest again. "Kneed in the stomach."

"I'll tell your parents. They might want you checked over. Frank?"

"Just my lip. And a tooth."

"Alright." She smiled again and turned, heading back towards the kitchen.

For a long while it was just quiet, Miss Jemmerson's voice drifting from a couple rooms over, and Joe rested his chin on his knees again, watching the hands of the old grandfather clock against the wall ticking.

This sucked. But if Frank hadn't found him and surprise-attacked the bullies... He glanced over, and saw him frowning a hole in the floor. "Hey Frank?"

The frown abruptly cleared, his brother glancing up and blinking at him. "Yeah?"

"Thanks." He hesitated for a moment, opening his mouth to say more; closed it again.

Frank smiled and straightened, bopping him on the head. "No problem."

For a moment there was just quiet and murmuring from the kitchen. And then Frank shifted on the couch, reaching down to pull up his bag.

"I was going to give it to you before but..." He rummaged inside. "Just hope it's not broken."

"What's not broken?" He leaned over, trying to peer in, wincing at the twinge in his middle.

Frank rummaged a little more and then pulled out a model plane with a grin. "This!"

Joe's eyes widened, flicking over the model from nose to tail. And then Frank set it on his head, still grinning. "Happy birthday."

"Wow!" He snatched it off his head, turning it back and forth. "Does it fly?"

"Yep." A finger spun the propeller at the front. "Me and Rick tested it. It's the best glider we've ever seen."

"Wow," he said again, grin threatening to crack his face. "Hey Frank?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks." He turned his grin on his brother, holding the plane tight.

Frank smiled and ruffled his head. "No problem."

At that moment, Miss Jemmerson popped back into the room, her eyes flicking to the plane, and smiled at the two of them. "Your parents are coming over to pick you up — they should be here in a few minutes. Is there anyting you two want to eat or drink?"

"I'll take a glass of water," Frank offered, "please."

"Joe?"

"No thanks." He turned the plane in his hands again, fingering the lighweigh, wide wings. It kind of looked modelled after a spitfire, with the shark's mouth and everything, but painted red. "Can I try it out?"

"Maybe not inside, Joe," Miss Jemmerson said gently.

Frank bopped him on the shoulder. "We can take it out later at home."

He deflated a little. "When are Mom and Dad gonna be here?"

Miss Jemmerson gave him this funny kind of smile and ruffled his hair. "Very soon. They'll be right here to pick you up."

He fiddled with the plane. They would've been home already by then if those bullies hadn't decided to beat him up. His stomach still ached, and his head where they'd pulled at his hair, though it wasn't bad enough that all the ruffling hurt much. And his arm, too. He ached everywhere, especially in his chest, even though they hadn't hit him there.

This sucks.

"This really sucks," he said out loud.

He half-saw Frank glance at him. For a long moment he just said nothing, and when Joe finally looked at him, he turned to staring at the carpet, or his knees. "Yeah. It does."

Even Frank thought so. And he'd kind of expected him to try and say it could be worse, and cheer him up.

He must have noticed the way Joe stared at him, because the crinkle between his eyebrows abruptly disappeared as he glanced at him. And he smiled, reaching over to bat him on the head again. "But you've got me and the rest of us. So it can't suck that bad right?"

"...Mm. Mhm." Maybe it could've been worse, but it still sucked pretty bad. But... yeah, he had Frank and Mom and Dad, and they didn't hate him, he guessed. Grlancing at Frank again, he smiled lopsided. "Yeah. If you keep karate-chopping them all maybe they'll go away."

Frank's smile didn't come out quite right, thought it was kinda hard to tell with the tissue covering his lip, but Joe still just had this... feeling. "There you go."

He was just trying to cheer him up. Karate-chopping the bullies always only just made them angrier, and sometimes Frank wasn't even there. He couldn't be around in Joe's classes, anyway, or everywhere. Thought it wasn't like Joe had any friends to hang out with anymore, so Frank and his friends were the only people who'd talk to himi anymore, and some of them looked at him funny, too.

The sound of knocking on the door, and he closed his eyes. Were Mom and Dad secretly angry at him, too? Maybe they'd get sick of him and put him in an orphanage. Maybe they'd be happier without him around.

His eyes opened just as Mom came through the door, and suddenly he was wrapped up in a hug.

Frank tapped his foot softly on the floor, the cut on his lip still stinging. Maybe even more than it had after they'd stumbled into Miss Jemmerson's yard, and the hot tingle trickling over his skin had turned into a sharp pain. Not to mention the rest of his face, where DJ had smashed him almost on the nose.

Dad would say he was lucky he hadn't got a black eye or a broken nose. Two against three grade sixes? They'd been really lucky.

Joe seemed to realise that, too, from the way he curled up on the couch, his chin on his knees. Or maybe he thought it was his fault, because they'd been after him. Which was stupid, because he couldn't help being an Unusual—some people were just asswipes, and his parents would tell him off for thinking it like that, but it was true. Joe had a Talent, not a curse, and he'd been excited to have it—to be special—when the Unusual doctor of diagnosis had told them. He'd thought it was cool. And it was.

Some special asswipes had just decided it made him a target because they weren't.

A knock on the door broke his mental train, and he twitched. His hand had curled into a fist while his thoughts swirled through his head, his left clenching on the tissue, and he forced it to loosen up, glancing at Joe, who had his eyes closed. Opening his mouth, he went to say something, but then Mom was there.

She bundled him up in a hug, and he quietly moved away to give them some space, shifting to the end of the couch. Later. He could say it later. Not that Mom wouldn't, anyway, but it was better to hear it from more than one person. Or so she said. He thought so, too, honestly.

"Hey kiddo," Dad's quiet voice brought his eyes up, a hand resting on his head. "That's quite the split lip."

He managed a smile, and if it was missing the lightness behind it no one was telling. "New battle wound. I got it from DJ."

An eyebrow rose, and Dad perched on the armrest next to him, gently drawing the tissue back for a better look, and humming in quiet sympathy at the sight. "So how's the other guy?"

"Hopefully still curled up on the ground. In pain."

If he heard the edge, Dad didn't comment on it. His grey-blue eyes just flicked over Frank's face for a moment. "No pain in your jaw, or a headache?"

He gave a stunted head-shake, touching at the side of his face near his mouth. "Just here. I didn't get knocked out or anything, he just got me while I was trying to get Joe out."

Hadn't paid enough attention to his surroundings—Joe had been too out of it to move quickly, and he hadn't wanted to hurt him more shoving him around. Then there'd been a flash of fist, a hit blazing across his face... He barely remembered what had happened, just that Joe had cried out, he'd managed to knee the other boy in the crotch, and hit Seth so hard his fist still throbbed. Though it hadn't actually hurt when he'd landed it.

"Oh, and my fist," he added, flexing the fingers holding the tissue.

"Let me see." Dad held out his hand, and Frank switched, giving him the left and holding the tissue in place with his right, instead. Rough but gentle fingers uncurled his, rubbing gently at the bones. "Any sharp pains, or fuzzy sensations? Grinding?"

"No—I made a fist like you taught me. Thumb on the outside."

"Good man," he approved, moving down to the wrist and the nub on the outside. "Still nothing?"

"Nope." He watched as a thumb rubbed gently over a reddened knuckle. "It aches a little, but it doesn't hurt too much."

"We'll get an ice pack on it when we get home. And your face. I can already see the swelling." Dad released his hand with a pat on his shoulder. "Looks like you landed some good hits."

"I don't want to encourage any fighting, but I'd have to agree," Mom's voice came from his other side as he gave a small smile, gingerly flexing his fingers.

It wasn't exactly his first time punching somebody... but maybe he shouldn't mention that. He'd almost thought he had broken his hand that time—about a month before Nancy had left, when they'd gone down to the park and him and Joe had gotten ahead. And gotten into trouble with Alex, again, when he decided to target them for the candy they'd just bought at Ol' Wilt's.

It was funny. Joe had been ready to throw fists with kids over a head taller than him, but when Frank had tried to defuse things and Seth pushed his little brother to the ground... Well, Nancy had come in just in time to break it up before it could end up like today.

She'd iced his hand and it'd been fine by the time Mom and Dad came back at the end of the weekend. They'd kept it between them; she was cool like that. He still planned to give her that puzzle box for her birthday, though he'd have to send it in the mail since she lived in... Riverdale, was it?

"Didn't I give you an ice pack?" Miss Jemmerson's voice broke in, and he glanced up.

"Yeah, it just fell down..." He rummaged around, fingers touching the cold plastic surface that had slipped down the side, and he pulled it out, offering it to her. "Sorry. It was hard to keep it on my face and use the tissue at the same time."

"No need to be sorry, Frank." She took it with a smile, turning to his parents. "I'd better let you head off—if you need anything, just call."

"Thank you for taking the boys in and calling us, Sadie."

Mom stood up to hug her, and Frank glanced at Joe. His blue eyes were still watery, but he was holding his plane again, sitting cross-legged instead of curled-up. He still looked too small, though. Too quiet.

He curled his fingers, feeling a little savage thrill of satisfaction at the renewed throbbing. If he'd been quicker to pick up the plane at Rick's...

Fingertips patting at his shoulder made him blink back to the moment, Dad giving him a smile as he stood and moved to Joe. "You did a good job, Frank."

He watched as he sat down beside his usually hyperactive brother and put an arm around his shoulder, rocking him gently as he murmured words half-caught under Mom still talking to Sadie. Maybe Frank had bruises and a split lip, but he hadn't had the spark punched out of him. Joe looked like he had, and no amount of fighting off bullies could make that better. No matter how hard he tried.

"Hey there, karate kid."

Mom's gentle voice brought his gaze back around just as her fingers stroked through his hair, the smile on her face not quite happy and not quite sad, like the look in her brown eyes that mirrored how he felt.

"Let's go home."

Joe plonked his backpack down by his bed, and then stood there for a long moment, just staring at the dusty, dark-blue and grey fabric. Before everything, he'd just wanted to run home and play Zelda.

And now his stomach and his head hurt, and if he moved his arm wrong it twinged.

He really didn't want to do schoolwork, though. Maybe he could test his plane out... but the yard was too small to really try it out, and if it went over the fence he'd never see it again—somebody would probably take it and never give it back because he was an Unusual freak. And going down to the park was a big huge fat nope.

Taking it out as carefully as he could, he set it up on his side of the shelf him and Frank shared. And stepped back, just looking at it.

"...How long are you planning to admire it?"

A half-joking voice from behind him almost made him jump ten feet in the air, and he twitched around to see Frank there, the strap of his backpack in one hand with an ice pack in the other and watching him, head tilted. He smiled when Joe's mouth refused to throw out any words, the scabby red on his lip standing out, but there was something almost a little worried in his eyes. "Just joking. We put a lot of work into it, huh?"

"...Yeah." He shook himself, forcing out a grin. "It looks great."

And then he couldn't think of anything else to say, and they just stood there like idiots for five seconds.

"I'm gonna go get a glass of water," he threw out into the silence, and slipped past Frank before he could say anything, letting his legs gallump down the stairs.

If he hadn't wanted to do homework before, he suddenly ten thousand times more didn't want to. Just for a little bit. Maybe he could forget about everything if Mom let him play Zelda for a little bit. Maybe he could forget about it if he didn't have to see the red scab on Frank's lip for a while.

He slowed as he thudded to the bottom, hesitating a second before slipping around into the dining room. The smell of something cheesy wafted from the kitchen, and he wandered past the table taking up most of the room—with a window on one side and the boxy TV in the corner—sidling into the nook where Mom was working. The light streaming in through the window on the side outlined the steam from the pan and her face as she turned to him. "Joe? Is everything alright?"

"Yeah." He kind of hovered there in the entranceway, glancing at the pan he couldn't see into and fidgeting at the pull-string on his shorts. "I just... I wanted to..."

He toed at a mark on the wood floor, his shoulders hunching. "Could I do homework later?"

"Oh sweetie." The sound of the pan rasping on the stovetop made his gaze flick up just as she bent down, her fingers gently cupping around the side of his face. He almost cringed back from the look in her eyes—hard and soft at the same time, tightness in the corners—but her smile was gentle. "Of course you can. One hour of playtime, and then I'll trust you to get onto your homework, alright?"

He nodded, and she held out her pinkie, a twinkle replacing the hardness in her eye. "Pinkie promise me."

A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth, and he hooked it with his own. "'Kay."

She grinned, gently shooing him. "Alright then, off you go. Chase down those evil goblins and beat them all for me."

"They're orcs!" He slipped his hands into his pockets and bounced on his toes, flapping his elbows. "I think. And I'm not fighting them yet. I've got to get to Hyrule, and get a real sword, but as soon as I get Epona back I can fight stuff!"

"Well, have fun then." She smiled at him again, and he smiled back, spinning for the door to the living room and the big new TV in front of the couch.

He could already feel the excitement bubbling up again. It only took a couple seconds to turn the Wii on and click on the little game window thing, since he hadn't taken the disc out since last time. He flopped onto the rug, skipping through the intro and selecting his save game in record time.

And he was back outside his treehouse, just after letting the annoying kid have his sword. Had to find Epona...

It took him a little bit to figure out where he'd left off and where he was supposed to find her down at the lake. Where, when he got there, the girl who always acted weird around his character and stole his horse told him he couldn't take her. "Oh what? C'mon—"

Then the other kid—the one who got bullied because he was kinda dumb and a sissy—told him to sneak around the back. By the time he got Link to crawl through the tunnels and out to the lake-pond thing, he was thinking dark thoughts about horse-stealing girls who wouldn't let him get to Hyrule and fight more stuff that weren't just evil people-eating plants and bats.

But then he was there, and she... was letting him take Epona? He sat up straighter, a grin breaking out on his face. Maybe that kid wasn't so bad if he'd managed to convince her.

"Don't try to do anything... out of your league, Please," the words scrawled up on the screen, and he snorted. This was Link. He could do anything because he was in a game—

Some kind of creature smashed through the gate, and he twitched, the controllers in his hands forgotten as suddenly the girl got shot and Link was knocked out. His mouth went dry, the red-eyed orc-goblin things with horns picking up the kid and the girl.

A giant set of hooves shook the ground on the screen, his Wii remote vibrating aggressively as a giant boar and a big orc filled the screen, blowing a horn, a giant dark cloud with a hole in it swallowing up the sky. Was he gonna get to fight them? But he didn't even have the wooden sword—!

He almost dropped the remote when it buzzed like a bee, hissing some words under his breath that his parents really wouldn't like, the orcs stampeding back through the water and leaving Link behind.

And for a second nothing happened. Was this like a Choose Your Adventure, and he'd made the wrong choice and died? But he'd done what he was supposed to, right—?

Link's eyes blinked open, and he sat up. Not dead. Cool. He hefted the remotes as the character got up and looked frantically around, the camera swooping from his point of view, but the game didn't let him take control. The cut-scene continued, Link sprinting down the path and over the bridge, and everything... got kinda yellow and foggy and weird.

What's... going on?

Link abruptly skidded to a stop, the camera on his startled face as he looked all around at a... door? Some kind of massive, black door with carvings in it like Runes but shaped like a key. Had the orcs taken over the village? Was he gonna—?

He jumped as the music blared and a hand shot out of the door, grabbing Link. The character cried out, sucked through the inky black, and he just stared for a long moment as the screen went black.

...Am I still going to Hyrule?

Abruptly it came back again, Link struggling against a black hand around his neck, everything fuzzy and dreamy, a dark Rune-y mask instead of a face peering at him. Trying to pull at the arm holding him, a mark flashed on the character's hand—the Triforce, right?—and the monster did a big "nope" and threw him away, tossing him onto the ground with another cry.

Was this where he got to fight them? His hands clenched around the Wii remote and the nunchuk, his palms sweaty. Why couldn't he fight back against them? He was just getting tossed around and...

The strange shadowy forest flashed around in first person again, pulsing, and Link on the screen dragged himself up, like he was in pain. Maybe... maybe shaking? His throat had clenched up again, in spite of himself, the camera spinning dizzyingly. The light was so bright it glowed, the character's face almost disappearing into it, and his own chest had gone tight, his heart pattering funnily in his ribcage.

Maybe Link had broken something. His stomach clenched up in a knot as Link seemed to tense, his face screwed up, the music and the sounds echoing and distorted. But they didn't cover up the hiccuping choked-off breath the character dragged in, his own chest wringing up like a wet towel.

Link screamed. He twitched back, air choking in his throat as the character cried out straight at the camera, abruptly changing into a monster. No, a wolf. A monster, his eyes glowing yellow and—

He slammed the home button, cutting off the music and the sound and suddenly aware of his own breath shuddering in his lungs. Nope. Nope nope nope. Before he could think, his shaking fingers had stabbed the power-off button and the screen winked out, his wide-eyed reflection panting back at him.

His hands still shook, and he clenched them into fists, his arms shaking instead. Digging them into his hair, he curled up with his face in his knees, his throat so tight a squeaking whimper shuddered out of it. It felt like he was going to... No, he wasn't gonna think about that. He wasn't that kind of Unusual. At least he wasn't that kind. Even if maybe he'd wished sometimes when the bullies shoved him around that he could become bigger and stronger whenever he wanted, and pay them back—

A shudder wracked his spine, and he bit his lip until pain flashed through it. That wasn't what he'd... he hadn't thought it'd... Link was a... a werewolf? An Unusual? Wasn't it just supposed to be the Twilight Realm and it was like a mirror of him, not... not...

A breath threatened to catch in his throat with a soft hiccup, and he clenched his teeth, snatching a hand from his head and throwing the Wii remote.

A loud thrunk rang out as it bounced off the wall and the nunchuk clattered, the sound breaking through the haze choking his brain with a flash like cold water, and he froze. Mom was in the kitchen. His hand still shook, half-extended after the remote like he could call it back.

Suddenly he wished he could drop through the floor and disappear.

"Joe?"

Mom stood in the doorway, frowning at him.

His mouth opened, but nothing came out, and he wrapped his arm tight around his knees, squeezing his head on top of them. He shook, trying to get out an apology, but his throat wouldn't cooperate. Little glittering flickers danced behind his eyelids, almost-pictures and sounds streaming through the black. A hand catching at his hair and panic in his throat swelled through all of them—

"Hey, hey..." Arms wrapped around him, the smell of Mom and mac 'n cheese suddenly enveloping everything, warm and different kinds of feelings mingling with the voices mumbling at the back of his head. "Joey, it's alright. It's alright, now."

Her voice murmured through all of them, real and in his ear, holding him tight and stroking gently at his hair. A shuddering breath half-sobbed through his ribcage, caught in his lungs, and he pressed against her. Those half-images wouldn't leave him alone, blinking like starbursts, throwing pictures he couldn't see long enough to catch, and she hugged him tight.

"It's alright, Joey. Shhh... it's alright..."

For a long moment she murmured words he barely heard, until the flickers of things he hadn't been there to see and hear started to die out, pulling away like a hand slowly sucked back into a black door and leaving his head alone. His breathing still shuddered unevenly, though, his heart like a tight ball in his chest and his stomach in knots.

"Can you tell me what happened, Joey? Tell me what's wrong?" Mom's voice was gentle in his ear, her hand rubbing at his shoulder as she pulled back slightly, rocking him soothingly.

He pressed his face into her shirt and shook his head, his throat still too tight to talk.

"Alright. That's alright, sweetie." She wrapped him up again, rubbing softly at his back, humming quietly. For a long moment he just stayed there, listening to her breathing and feeling the hum vibrate through his ear.

He didn't want to think about it. Didn't want to think about Link screaming as he turned into a monster. Didn't want to think about Unusuals and bullies sneering at him because he'd been too weak to fight back. If only he'd been stronger—maybe if he was a...

His hands tightened, clenching on Mom's apron. No, he didn't want anything like that. If he was unnatural now, then that would make it ten times worse. But maybe... maybe he'd end up like that anyway. He wasn't a werewolf or anything, but what if he turned out to be a necromancer or something? What if he just... what if one day he sucked the life out of somebody, or turned them into a zombie or...

He shivered and Mom's hand caressed his hair, murmuring reassurances to him. Why did he have to be an Unusual? "Why... why am I a freak?"

His mumble sounded shaky and muffled even to him, and Mom immediately went still. Her arms tightened around him, holding him close. "You're not a freak, Joey. You're my son, my little boy, and I love you. No kind of Talent—no bullies, nothing anyone says, not even you—will ever change that."

Her voice rumbled through him fiercely, and a soft shudder shook his body as she continued, softer, "Dad doesn't think you're a freak, and Frank doesn't, either. No one who knows you would ever think that, sweetheart. I guarantee you that those kids who hurt you don't know the first thing about how sweet, vibrant, and funny you are. And they're missing out, because you're such a treasure."

For a moment she went quiet again, her hand stroking gently at his hair. He could feel and hear her breathing, his heart beating a steady thud-thud in his chest.

"I'm so grateful to have you as my son, you know. I love my vibrant little Joe, who makes his brother laugh, and puts a smile on his father's face after a long, tiring day." Her face tilted against his head, a rich warmth like honey in her voice. "I wouldn't exchange you for the world."

The soft sound of his own breathing whooshed in the small space. "...You mean it?"

"If I didn't, I wouldn't say it." Her hand continued to stroke gently at the back of his head in small circles. "Those bullies might say horrible things about you, but they won't ever change my mind."

"...I think I broke the Wii remote."

"We can always get a new one." There was a smile in her voice. "Were those goblins a little too hard to beat?"

He pressed a little closer, shaking his head. "Link turned into a wolf."

She went silent. "Oh."

"He got beaten up by all these monsters and it wouldn't let me fight them, and then he turned into a werewolf." His voice came out muffled in her shirt, his fingers scrunching in her apron. "I don't wanna be an Unusual."

She just stroked gently at his hair. "Well, you'll never be a werewolf. You don't have to use your Talents, either, if you don't want to."

"But I can't help it." He shook his head again, rubbing against the fabric. "It just happens, and I don't want it to. I don't want to be an Unusual. I just want to be normal."

"Let me give you a little secret," she said with a warm little thread of amusement, "nobody's normal. Not me, not your dad, not even Frank. We're all a little weird in our own ways."

"Mm. Frank's not normal."

"Oh?"

"He's a boss. He took out everybody by himself."

"I stand corrected, then." There was definitely a hint of laughter that time.

"I wanna be like that. Not have stupid powers that don't do anything," he mumbled.

"Oh Joe..." She squeezed him gently. "You did well, though. Frank told me you handled yourself well— 'kicked Alex in the nuts' was how I heard it."

Wait—

His brain broke a little. Had she just said—? His mouth almost fell open, and he twitched back to blink into her eyes. "You said 'kicked in the nuts'!"

She held a finger up to her lips with a wink. "Don't tell your dad. And don't make a habit of it. But I've done some nut-kicking in my time, too."

A wicked grin spread over his face, and he zipped his lips. "Zipped. Wait, did you have to kick bad guys—?"

"And that's enough of that conversation for now," she laughed, booping him on the nose and making him squinch up his face. "We'll save that story for another day, when you're older."

"Mm-m." He pouted, rubbing at his face and twitching his nose. "Like when I turn eight?"

She made a face. "...Maybe a few more years." Glancing over at something away from him briefly, she added, "And I think that might be enough videogaming for today."

Following her eyes, his own flicked to the remote and the nunchuk plugged into it still lying near the wall, and his shoulders hunched a little. Oh, yeah.

"Would you like to help me make dinner, instead? It's mac 'n cheese — your favourite."

He looked up to see her smiling at him, her hand gentle on his head. Blinking, he glanced at the Wii remote again. "Not homework?"

"Well I did promise you an hour, didn't I?"

"Um. Can I play a game with Frank instead?" Cooking was kinda boring, even if it was mac 'n cheese. Also it wasn't the kind of cooking he could sneak pieces from until it was done.

Her smile turned wry. "Not a fan of cooking, I get it. Sure you can—tell him he's allowed an hour off, too."

"Okay!" He grinned at her, pulling away and running for the door. Maybe he could make up for the split lip by dragging Frank out to play Monster—it was always fun to crush things with monster trucks. Right now he kind of wanted to play with somebody else, anyway, and forget about Zelda.

Mom laughed quietly behind him as he swung around the doorframe and pounded up the stairs. Yeah, some things were still good. Catching the jamb of their room's door, he skidded into the entrance, catching Frank's surprised eyes, and grinned.

"Hey Frank, you wanna play Monstertruck?"