So he took a careful step back and said, “I’m just going home. I don’t want to fight you.”

“I bet you don’t. You hate that I’m better than you at it.”

Barclay was good at a lot of things, but only because he had to be. Dullshire would hardly tolerate a rule-breaking orphan if he weren’t. But that was also why Falk hated him, since Falk’s strength was his one and only skill. A fact which Barclay, admittedly, often reminded him of.

“That’s n-not true!” Barclay stammered, then he prepared to do something to Falk that he’d never done before: compliment him. “You’re better at loads of things than me, and I don’t mind. Like, well, eating things that I can’t.” He’d once switched Falk’s lunch with Gustav’s pig food, and Falk had eaten it all. He hadn’t even gotten a stomachache. “It’s a bit remarkable, actually.”

Falk narrowed his eyes, and Barclay immediately caught his mistake. “Remarkable” was a big word to Falk, and Barclay usually used those to tease him.

Falk nodded, and Poldi lunged forward, blocking Barclay’s path to escape. Behind him, Marco shoved him in the back. Barclay dropped The Extensive History with a thud.

“Bet that thing weighs more than you, huh?” Falk shot him a toothy, threatening smile.

Barclay swallowed and reached down to pick it up, but before he could, Marco grabbed a fistful of his coat. Soon Barclay was trapped, with both arms locked behind his back.

“Get off!” He jerked in Marco’s grip, but it didn’t do any good. It never did.

Falk reached down and picked up The Extensive History.

“Give it back,” Barclay snapped.

“You want it back? Well…”

As he spoke, Marco pushed Barclay down to the ground, his cheek pressed against dirt and stone. Poldi pinned him there.

Falk held The Extensive History over him.

“I wonder what would happen if I dropped this on your face? I’ll drop it, and you can have it back.”

Barclay considered yelling for help, but doing so had only earned him extra kicks and punches in the past. Besides, Falk never got punished because Barclay had no parents to demand it. Master Pilzmann was too oblivious for such squabbles.

All Barclay could do was squeeze his eyes shut and brace himself for a broken nose, his heart hammering in terror.

But when Falk did drop the book, a sudden wind tore across the street, so strong that all the shutters around them swung and smacked against their frames and walls.

Barclay heard a loud thump, then a groan. And when Marco let him go so that he could sit up, he saw Falk lying flat on his back, clutching his face. A bit of blood dribbled down his cheek.

“What happened?” Marco asked.

“The wind blew it at him!” Poldi answered.

“I don’t believe—”

“I saw it—”

“Arghhhhh,” Falk groaned.

While the others were distracted, Barclay scrambled to his feet. He regretfully abandoned The Extensive History and took off into a run, shouts of “No you don’t!” and “Where do you think you’re going?” echoing behind him.