The locker let out another creak as they approached, echoing through the cavernous Gym like a spooky giggle. Ethan’s knobby knees wobbled. “Maybe it’s... a haunted protein shake,” he whispered.
Jack frowned. “You’re trying to joke your way out of being scared.”
“I am not scared,” Ethan whispered back, voice cracking like a bowl of cereal under milk. “I’m just... tactically anxious.”
They stood in front of the locker now. It rattled again. Something—or someone—was inside.
Jack reached out a hand, slowly, his bony fingers brushing the dented metal handle. “On three?”
Ethan nodded. “Let’s do it.”
“One…”
“Two…”
“Three!”
Jack yanked the locker door open with a dramatic clank—
—and out burst a blur of brown fur and twitching whiskers.
“AAAHHH!” both boys shrieked, leaping backward so fast Ethan tripped over his own clipped-on underwear. Jack stumbled and landed on top of him with a thud.
The intruder skittered across the floor, knocking over a box of protein bars, and vanished behind a rack of jump ropes.
It was a rat.
Just a rat.
A slightly chubby one, to be fair. Probably had a taste for energy gels.
But for the two shrunken heroes, it may as well have been a demon straight from the Ninth Dimension.
Jack rolled off Ethan, his heart hammering against his narrow ribcage. “Was that a rat?!”
“No,” Ethan said, face hot with embarrassment, “that was... uh, a highly-trained vermin assassin from the Magician’s guild. Probably.”
Jack didn’t answer. He was too busy breathing into his hands like they were paper bags. “I used to punch cyborgs. I wrestled a bear. Now I just squealed like a kid at a sleepover.”
“Well,” Ethan muttered, still lying on the floor, “we are kids at a sleepover. Technically.”
They lay in silence for a moment. Ethan could feel the warmth of Jack’s shoulder just brushing his own, and his mind spun faster than any villain’s death ray.
He wasn’t just scared of the rat.
He was scared of this feeling. This new feeling.
The way Jack’s laugh made his stomach flip. The way Jack’s hand, calloused even in this young body, had grabbed his to pull him up a minute ago. The way Jack had called him “Short Boxer” with that crooked grin and meant it like a nickname, not an insult.
Oh no.
This was definitely a crush.
Ethan sat up quickly, cheeks burning. “So! Um! Next plan! We, uh, trap the rat! Yes! Rat-hunting mission!”
Jack looked at him with one eyebrow raised. “Are you okay, city boy?”
“Totally,” Ethan said, a little too fast. “You know. Just... adrenaline.”
Jack smirked. “You are acting kinda twitchy.”
Ethan tried to glare. It came out more like a pout. “You’re twitchy.”