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“Fucking…” he wheezes from the ground. “Fucking…”

Wendy screams, and the sound snaps me out of my stupor. I leap forward and seize her by the shoulders, yanking her hard out of Slim’s grasp and almost bashing her against the metal sides of the bleachers.

“Run!” I shout, my voice hoarse.

“Where?” Wendy cries. “Where⁠—”

Nana, thank God, doesn’t wait. The dog sprints for the nearest exit, her thin body folding like a cheetah’s on the savannah, and Wendy takes the hint, tearing after her. Pulse pounding, I spin back to the guys just in time to see Kit’s head jerk back as Slim lands a rabbit punch to his chin. I scramble toward them, but something blocks me—Fox’s arm, hard enough to knock the wind out of me.

“Don’t,” he pants, glancing at me. “Tink, don’t⁠—”

A fist slams the side of his head—the first guy, back on his feet and huffing with red-faced fury. “Mother…fucker,” he grunts, and swivels on me. “You want some, Princess?” He grabs his crotch with a meaty fist. “I’ll fuck both of ya.”

Someone screams—me, I scream, and jerk back in a half-jump, half-sprint, but it’s no use. His one hand latches my upper arm, bruisingly hard, locking me in place, while his other fumbles at my waist, my hips, for the edge of my jeans, and my whole body goes stiff, dead, immobile when⁠—

Clonk. Something slams into the side of his head. He wavers, steps, and falls heavily into the dust, revealing a figure behind him, leg locked at the end of a kick and boot firm in the air.

“Dipshit,” Zuzu mutters. She retracts her leg, graceful as a ballerina, and immediately, her eyes go to me. “Tink. You okay?”

“Fine,” I say, not bothering to care if it’s true. Behind her, I just catch sight of the van door slamming—Slim gunning it out of there and leaving his buddy for dead, I guess. “Where’s⁠—”

“She’s here.” Kit, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, jogs back from the corner of the building, his arm around Wendy’s shoulders. “She’s…I think he’s good.”

My body goes limp with relief. Wendy’s face is moon-white, her eyes unblinking, but she manages to nod. “We’re good,” she amends hoarsely, and Nana, on cue, trots out from behind her, slipping under her fingertips for a pat.

I open my mouth to say—say I don’t know what, something, anything, but I don’t get a chance.

Because Wendy bursts into tears.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t—I shouldn’t have—and you⁠—”

Her eyes swing wildly from Kit dabbing at his split lip to Fox and the bruise blooming under his left eye to Blue, unscathed save for a set of angry scratches across his throat.

“Shh, shh, shh.” To my surprise, it’s Zuzu who steps forward, pulling Wendy into an embrace that the girl is too stunned to resist. “They are tough boys. They will be okay, arush.” As Wendy buries her face in Zuzu’s sweatshirt, Zuzu looks at me, an unspoken message flickering from her eyes to mine.

I nod.

“I’m sorry,” Wendy keeps saying. “I’m sorry. I’m⁠—”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” I croak. The shock of adrenaline in my chest has given way to the shock of relief, but somehow it’s just as overwhelming, like the deafening roar of your own pulse in your ears when it’s dead silent around you. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Silence. Just the sniffling of Wendy’s tears, the faint pants of Nana’s breathing. Then, slowly, and then all at once, Wendy unlatches from Zuzu, as if she’d just realized she’d been clutching to a stranger like a baby.

“You didn’t,” I reaffirm. “Okay? None of this was your fault.”

“Um—” Kit starts to say something, but deftly turns it into a throat-clear as Zuzu and I both glare at him. He coughs. “Yep.”

Wendy’s eyes are still downcast, resolute. I look up at Zuzu instead.

“Thank you,” I say. It feels like embarrassingly little, considering the size of the favor she’s just done, but Zuzu just shrugs, mouth pulled into a casual frown.

“Good workout,” she says simply. “I’m glad we find her.”

Me too, I think. Me fucking too.

“So am I,” says Fox, his broad shoulders going slack. “Dude, what were you thinking, riding out here? How many times did I tell you that bike wasn’t street legal, let alone safe to⁠—”

“Wendy.” I say it gently, as much to Fox as to Wendy herself, and he gets the memo and shuts up. I look back at her, try one last time. “How about we just get you home, okay?”