The Princess and The Jester - A.D. McCammon Page 0,46

the aggression that’s been building in him below the surface. He spends an insane amount of his day running and lifting weights. The guy went from this chubby kid everyone picked on to a buff badass. Needless to say, they don’t bully him anymore. And now, all the girls flirt with him. It was a full-on caterpillar to butterfly transformation. Only he still feels and acts like the fluffy insect crawling on the ground, hoping no one squishes him.

Nervous laughter bubbles out of him. “If I keep getting into fights, my dad’s going to send me to boarding school.”

We’ve been in a lot of brawls together lately. Thatcher’s finally learning how to stand up for himself. He’s done being beat down by everyone in his life. I knew once he figured out how good it felt to fight back, it’d be like releasing a monster.

I spot Shane and two of his buddies as we step onto the front lawn of Lacey Paterson’s house, and nervous energy courses through me. Thatcher is right. This probably isn’t a good idea. Shane and his friends are twice my size. My momentum stalls, my pace slowing as I consider turning back around. Then an image of Gwen’s pretty face stained with tears pops into my head, and adrenaline pumps through my veins again.

“Hey, Donavan,” I call out.

Shane looks up, smirking when he sees me and Thatcher heading toward him. He says something to his buddies, and they all laugh as we stop in front of them.

“Look, it’s the cowardly lion and the scarecrow,” he cackles. “What the hell are you two doing here? I thought the invite to the party said no losers allowed.”

“I came here to give you a warning,” I tell him. “Leave Gwen alone.”

“Did you hear that? The scarecrow clearly never got his brain.” Shane’s gaze flickers between his friends, and they snicker like the good little minions they are.

When his eyes focus on me again, I crack my knuckles and inch closer. “Keep laughing, asshole. If you so much as look at her the wrong way, I’ll end you,” I threaten him, shouting in his face.

Shane’s eyes narrow, a hint of fear gleaming in them before they slide over to Thatcher. “Hey, Thatch, you’re a former fatty. Maybe you can help his girl out.”

Anger floods me like lava as the three of them laugh, none of us anticipating Thatcher’s response. My mouth drops open as he swings his fist, connecting it with Shane’s jaw.

I laugh right before one of Shane’s friends delivers a blow to my gut. Then we’re all throwing punches. One of Shane’s henchmen attacks me and the other takes Thatcher, allowing Shane to get in the occasional hit while remaining unscathed.

A girl with dark hair and long legs comes up to Shane. I don’t know or recognize her, but I assume by the flirtatious stare she throws his way that she’s a fan of his. He swaggers over to her, leaving his friends to do his dirty work while he hits on the girl.

The buzzing in my head from the punch I took to it a minute ago makes it impossible to hear what they’re saying, but suddenly she knees him in the balls.

He cries out, yelling at her as he falls to the ground. That distracts his friends long enough for me and Thatcher to get in some good hits, both of them going down like dominos.

“Run!” the girl shouts, rushing in our direction.

We look at each other then back at her, the shock on our faces morphing into amusement. The three of us laugh as we race down the street, none of us stopping to catch our breath until we’re a few blocks away.

“I don’t know who you are or where you came from,” I pant, smiling at the girl. “But, oh my god, that was incredible.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” she snickers. “I’m Arwen, the new girl in town.”

Come to think of it, Gwen did mention something about a new girl at school. But since Gwen’s the only girl I’m interested in, I didn’t pay much attention to it.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Cole, and this is Thatcher,” I tell her, patting him on the shoulder. He lifts his chin as she waves, licking away the blood at the corner of his mouth. “I think you might be my new favorite person. Thanks for saving our asses back there, Ari.”

Her eyebrows knit at the nickname, but she doesn’t correct me. “You two are crazy, but

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