Emma’s phone vibrated. That was strange. She hardly ever got a notification. She went to Instagram…and froze. It was a photo someone had taken at that afternoon’s match of her looking dreamily at Caleb between rounds. They’d made Emma look like a dog with her tongue hanging out. The caption read: Oh, Caleb, you are my master.

Crosby drummed his fingers impatiently while he waited for his computer to boot up. It sucked that the Axis squad lost again today, but he reminded himself that it was just a dumb middle school club. And speaking of middle school, what annoyed him even more than losing the match was what happened in gym during capture the flag. He and Tyler had Zach the Wack cornered while Ms. Patrick was distracted helping some girl who’d hurt her knee. They were about to have a little fun when Extra Credit Caleb got involved. The next thing Crosby knew, Ms. Patrick blew her whistle and ordered him and Tyler to go to her office and wait for her.

Would she have noticed what they were doing if it hadn’t been for Caleb? Why couldn’t that jerk mind his own business?

Later in her office, Ms. Patrick chewed out him and Tyler for picking on Zach.

“We didn’t mean anything by it,” Crosby had said. “We were just having some fun.”

“We weren’t going to hurt him or nothing,” Tyler said.

“How many times do you have to be told that you don’t have to hurt someone to bully them?” Ms. Patrick asked irately. “Intimidation is a form of bullying. Ganging up on someone is a form of bullying.”

The period was ending, and Ms. Patrick had to go back out to the gym. She let Crosby and Tyler off with a warning that if it happened again, she’d send them straight to the principal’s office.

Later, at lunch, Crosby told Gavin what had happened. “That’s twice that Extra Credit has ratted on me. He told Ms. B about me cheating on the geometry test. And now this thing in gym. I swear, bro, the time’s come to do something about him.”

Gavin unwrapped a piece of brown candy and popped it into his mouth. He didn’t say anything, but Crosby had to believe he agreed.

Now, at home, Crosby’s computer finally booted up. He was glad to see that Dave was online. He’d been out of touch for the past few days, and Crosby had gotten worried. Had he said something that had ticked Dave off? Talking to Dave made him feel good. It made him feel like he was part of something. Dave listened and respected him. Not like his aunt Mary and Ms. Patrick and those other soy-milk-drinking feminazis with their stupid politically correct ideas.

“Hey, Dave,” Crosby said.

“Hey, Croz,” Dave said. This was new. Dave was giving him a nickname. Crosby immediately liked it. Giving each other nicknames was exactly what good friends did. They started talking, and Crosby forgot about losing that day’s eSports match, and about Caleb the snitch.