This is going to get bad.

This is going to get bad, Danny thinks.

There has to be a way to stop it. Preferably without Alana removing anyone’s limbs or Eric turning anyone inside out. Eric could probably beat the crap out of Lonnie and Mike even if he didn’t use his powers. He’s spent years untangling himself from straightjackets, breaking out of deathtraps, and hanging from high wires. (And getting into bar fights and occasionally spending the night in jail.) He’s not the skinny kid he used to be.

Danny can’t use his vomit ringtone in here. There are too many people making too much noise. He wonders how fast he could rig up a taser using the battery from his watch.

Probably not as fast as Carrie could pull that gun she’s got in the concealed-carry holster hidden by her untucked blouse.

But that would be wrong. Right?

They’re supposed to be here to help these people. These are their classmates. Kids they grew up with, in most cases from kindergarten. They’re not here to fight these people. Something else is pulling on their strings, cranking up their adrenaline.

So Danny thinks harder. He searches for a less permanent answer. Looks up. Finds it.

He grabs Eric by the shoulder, hard, as the crowd jostles and pushes and shoves forward. Alana whisks the big table into their path as if it weighs nothing, but that won’t stop them.

“Eric, can you cool things off a bit?”

“What?” Eric says, annoyed.

Danny looks up at the ceiling. Eric looks up. The sprinkler system.

Danny knows Eric hates it when Danny tells him what to do.

But he’ll do it.

Eric hates it when Danny tells him what to do. He always acts like he’s in charge, even when he doesn’t have a clue. It hasn’t gotten any less annoying over twenty years. Some answers aren’t on the SATs, he always wants to tell Danny.

But he’s right. Which also hasn’t gotten any less annoying.

And besides, this will be nothing. He sees the water pipe above and knows exactly what to do. It’s easy.

Magic always has a price, but this barely costs him anything. No future children, no lost loves, no plane crashes or midnight phone calls in his future. This is the equivalent of a cigarette: ten minutes off his life somewhere.

He reaches with his mind and finds the water waiting behind the valves. Eric imagines a faulty switch, a weak spot in a support brace. He imagines that nobody has maintained it for a long time, and the pipe sags and grows too heavy as it fills.

And as he imagines it, it becomes real.

Eric can feel it, as if it’s in his hand. In his mind, he pulls —

And suddenly the pipe breaks and water rains down.