Disclaimer: Mighty Ducks are owned by Disney.

Dedication: To my older sister because she is there for me like WW and Canard are there for Dive, just all in one person!

“Welcome to Brotherhood”

Part One: The Second Older Brother

“Caps DuCaine! Who would call Capital Metropolis, District of DuCaine, ‘Caps DuCaine?’ ” Nosedive grumbled to himself as he once more ripped open a box. “And who would want to live here?!” Looking inside, he found yet another box of clothes—no fun stuff. Now comics—that was entertainment!

“‘What was Duckburg like? Why’d you move here? Why don’t you move back?’” He mocked the questions of his new classmates. “What do you think? Doesn’t the word ‘di-vorce’ mean anything to you people?” He fumed and ripped open box after box after box. He needed to find his comic books. His salvation was there—from school, from Caps. DuCaine, from his new life. He needed to stay sane, and do that he needed his precious comic books!

“GRRRAAHHH!” He threw himself onto his bed in anger. Why couldn’t they just be in a box like the boring stuff?! He visually searched his room. They had to be somewhere! The empty boxes were thrown into the corner by his door. Not in there. Their contents were spewed over the bare hardwood floor. Clothes, sheets, action figures, toys…not a single comic book.

His hockey equipment laid on the edge of his bed—untouched. Wildwing would be home from school any moment, and he could finally play hockey! Hmmm….but what to do until then?

Then, he saw it.

Across the room by the empty closet sat one last box unopened, labeled “fun stuff!”

“All right!” He shot up from his bed and dashed toward salvation.

“Hey Dive!” Wildwing’s voice called startlingly through the open window.

Inches from reaching the box, Nosedive stopped and growled. He slumped over to the window and looked out, noticing his older brother and an unfamiliar duck about Wildwing’s age. The newcomer was the opposite his brother in complexion, tan feathers and hair, but his build matched that of Wing. His dark blue vest and same color pants with a light brown undershirt were the official wear of Caps. Ducaine…typical!

Nosedive crinkled his beak and huffed, “What, Wing?”

“Hey little brother! Come down! There’s someone I want you to meet!” Wildwing cajoled.

Oh, joy…a native. Nosedive blew up his bangs. “I’m kinda busy up here! You know, setting up my room and all…”

Sighing, Wildwing put a hand on the other’s shoulder. “Sorry. I guess he’s a little shy.” His face crinkled in confusion. “Though I’ve never seen him that way.”

The newcomer shrugged. “What? Kid can’t shoot or something?”

Oh, that hit the puck! Who did this guy think he was? Drake DuCaine? “I’ll be right down, Wing!”

Nosedive grabbed his hockey stick on the way out of his room and dashed down the stairs. Jumping off the patio, he hit the skate activator on his sneakers. In a flash of green, he landed on the ice, skating toward the back of the house. As he rounded the corner, there stood Wildwing, all ready in goalie gear with the new guy.

“Hey Dive. I want you to meet Canard,” Wildwing introduced, putting an hand on Dive’s shoulder. “Canard, meet my little brother, Nosedive.”

Nosedive crossed his arms and adverted his eyes. “Hey.”

Canard smiled unsurely to Wildwing, then bent down on one knee. “Hey, kid. Nice to meet you.” He stuck out his right hand.

Eyeing the hand briefly, Nosedive once more looked away. “Whatever. Can we just play some hockey?”

Wildwing exhaled, “Hey Dive? Canard’s—”

“—itching to see that hole-burning shot that Wildwing keeps telling me about!” Canard interjected, smiling widely. He ruffled Dive’s hair. “Wanna show me?”

“You told him?!” Dive turned wide-eyed toward his brother and cried, “How could you tell him? You promised not to tell anyone!”

“Aw, come on, little bro! Canard just told me how good he is at playing left wing, and I just had to brag about you!” Wildwing consoled, bending down to meet his brother’s glare. “Now, show him your shot!”

Nosedive whined softly, but saw the encouraging look in Wildwing’s eyes, and nodded emphatically. “Okay. I’ll show ‘im!”

Canard took a seat cross-legged on the driveway as Nosedive passed and skated toward the net. The youngest duck stopped about ten feet away from the net, cocking his head back. He smiled nervously to Wildwing, who sent him a confident grin, then peeked briefly at Canard. The older mallard had a firm look of contentment, calmly awaiting the shot.

Nosedive whirled around and looked at his foe…the net. Pulling his stick back, he hesitated for only a moment before following through with his arm, hitting the puck with precision. The puck ripped through the cold Puckworld air and smacked directly into the back of the net…before rolling to the ground.

Instantly, Nosedive’s shoulders slumped, and his face fell. It didn’t break through the net.

“Aw, it’s okay, Dive. Maybe next time,” Wildwing soothed as he patted his little brother on the shoulder.

“It was a once in a lifetime shot,” Nosedive moped. He slowly skated back toward the house, dragging his stick behind him. As he edged pass Canard, his shoulder slammed directly into the older mallard’s hip, effectively moving Canard out of his path.

Nosedive was half-way to the front of the house when Canard called, “Well, maybe it wasn’t, you know? Maybe you just have to hit the ice.”

Nosedive turned around and seethed, “What are you talking about?”

Canard crossed his arms and looked away smugly. “Well, when you shoot, perhaps you only hit the puck with your stick and not the ice, you know? Just maybe if you followed through with your shot from ice to puck to ice, it would go a whole lot faster and possibly even be more accurate.” He met Wildwing’s eyes with twinkle of amusement and shrugged. “Just maybe.”

Narrowing his eyes, Nosedive balled his fist. “Oh, yeah. Like that would work,” he grumbled and once more began his trek back inside.

“Hey, if you’re too chicken to try it, I understand. It takes a big person to admit when he’s doing something wrong.”

Chicken? Chicken? Did this guy know to whom he was speaking?

“I ain’t no chicken!” Nosedive pushed in between Canard and Wildwing as he skated back toward the net. “I’ll show you just who’s chicken!”

“Okay….but hit the ice first before shooting. That way you know that you’re going to hit the puck,” Canard reminded.

Nosedive snorted. “Yeah, yeah. I got it, Canard.” He hunched over on his stick and looked from the puck to the net.

Okay…okay…hit the ice. Hit the ice. Hit the ice!

He wound up, hesitated for a moment, then in one fluid motion shot.

The puck flew through the air right above the ice—

—burning through the back of the net and through the fence.

*Bang*

*Bing*

*MEOW!*

*Crunch!*

The puck imbedded in the side of a garbage can…three houses away.

“I did it!” Nosedive breathed, his beak forming a small grin. “I did it!” He exclaimed louder, whooping and jumping up and down. He ran into Wildwing’s arms with a huge smile. “I DID IT!”

“You sure did, little brother!” Wildwing replied, tussling Nosedive’s hair.

“Nice shot, kid,” Canard congratulated and nicked the five-year-old under the chin. “That’s what I call a firework shot.”

Nosedive’s smile faded immediately. Hemming and hawing, he fidgeted with the point of his skate blade as he focused on the ice. “Um…you know, thanks Canard…for…um…helping me…”

Canard bent down to Nosedive and smiled affectionately, “Hey, no problem, kid. Now, why don’t we take a little tour of Caps. DuCaine, huh? You guys probably haven’t had a chance to eat the best pizza ever.”

Nosedive’s head instantly perked up. “Pizza?”

*^*^*

“Pizza!” Nosedive proclaimed, turning about on his blades and skating backwards. He grinned wildly. “Pizza! PIZZA! PIZ-ZA!”

Canard scoffed as he skated about a pedestrian. “Pizza again? Isn’t that the fifth time this week?”

“Sixth," Wildwing corrected and glided to a halt at the light. "Dive, pick something else. Anything else.”

The seven-year-old mallard shrugged. “Is there anything else?”

“YES!” Canard and Wilding yelled in unison.

“Quackese,” Canard offered.

Wildwing nodded, “And Avish.”

“How about sushi?”

“Vegetarian?”

“Pork?”

“French?” Wildwing laughed, imitating a French accent.

“STOP!” Nosedive pleaded, covering his ears as he skated across the intersection. “Enough! We’ll just go to Canard’s and have what ever his mom is cooking, okay?”

Wildwing and Canard both stopped sharply and stared at each other. They quickly turned to Nosedive. “Pizza!”

Nosedive bowed, “Thank you! Thank you! And I’d like to thank…”

*honk!* *honk!*

“Hey, get out of the road!”

“Move it!”

*Sssssccccrrrreeeccchhh!*

Canard jerked backwards as an ice rover skidded thankfully to a stop just inches from his knees. Sheepishly, he exchanged a glare with Wildwing, who was equally as embarrassed. Surrounding them were at least ten rovers, their horn honking and their drivers fuming!

The sidewalk was still a few feet in front of them.

“Hey, watch where you’re—Mmph!”

A hard hand clamped down upon Nosedive’s beak, his words lost in incoherent mumbles. He squeaked as Wildwing slid his arm underneath his brother’s armpits and with one hand lifted him off the ice. The older brother carried him the remainder of the way across the road, Canard following on his best friend’s heels.

Carefully dropping his brother down onto safe ice, Wildwing sighed and turned to the slow moving traffic. “Sorry!”

Canard turned harshly to Nosedive. “Never, ever mention my mother’s cooking in public. It could get someone killed, and I don’t mean by eating it!”

“Whatever,” Nosedive replied dryly. “You already said pizza, so let’s just get there all ready! I’m starved.”

Wildwing sighed and ruffled his little brother’s hair as he resumed the skate.

Canard rolled his eyes and said good-naturedly, “You’re always hungry,” before tussling the boy’s hair as well and skating after his best friend. Raking his hands through his hair viciously, Nosedive pouted for a moment, but quickly tagged behind the two best friends.

“Well, there is still another choice,” Canard declared, hopeful. “We could go to your house, Wing. Your dad cooking tonight?”

Nosedive snorted behind them.

Wildwing glanced at his little brother, then confirmed, “Dad never cooks, Canard; he just burns stuff.”

Canard scoffed, “Yeah, well, at least dinner’s not still moving when your parent sets it on the table!”

“True, but Dad’s working late tonight. Something about a ‘special project’ this general guy Draco—Dracon –Drakeson—whatever!—is putting in front of the board. Dad said he wasn’t going to be home until at least nine, so he’s actually eating whatever we bring home.”

“Ah, then pizza it is!” Canard verified as he skated to a stop in front of a small shop, hitting off his blades and entering. Wildwing and Nosedive followed suit, walking into the pizza shop.

It was rather small shop with only a few tables and chairs in the middle, booths along the walls, and a counter in the front with stools. Though it was almost empty in the afternoon, as the boys knew well, it would be packed by dinnertime.

Behind the counter stood a salt-and-pepper-haired man, complete with a stereotypical mustache over his beak and a bright smile. “Canard, Wildwing, Nosedive,” an older man greeted, kneading dough. “Back so soon?”

Wildwing shrugged, “Well, you know my brother, Mr. Ducese. He can’t live without a serving of good pizza at least once a day.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Nosedive said flippantly, taking a seat across from Canard and Wildwing at their usual booth.

“Because it is a bad thing, kid,” Canard answered, not even pretending to look at the menu. He yelled from his seat, “Two large pizzas, one—”

“—regular, the other with extra tomatoes and onions,” Mr. Ducese finished, all ready placing one pizza in the oven. “Three small pops, correct?”

Nosedive smiled. “Yupper!”

“Gesh! Why do I even ask?”

Folding his arms on the table, Canard prompted, “Nosedive?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re going to look like a pizza soon.”

*Smack* Wildwing responded.

“Uh…ouch!” Canard retorted, rubbing the back of his head.

Nosedive stared straight at Canard. “Yeah, I may be a pizza, but at least my feathers aren’t always burned.”

*^*^*

Plopping on the floor, Nosedive stared at his most dreaded enemy—Applications of Math. He opened his book, and there lay his second low grade of the semester.

“I have a meeting, boys,” Wilder Featherburn said as he walked into the living room, dressed in uniform. “The Executive Generals are sentencing tonight. Canard, I trust you’ll be here the night?”

Canard waved his hand aloofly as he lied, knees over the arm rest of the love seat, head in a book. “Unless Mom or Dad Bronzeplume say any differently.”

“Why don’t they?” Nosedive muttered under his breath.

Dad Featherburn ignored the comment, as did the teenagers. “Good. Wildwing, you know the number if you need me.”

“Sure, Dad.” Wildwing said, laying stomach down on the couch. He, too, was studying. “Even if I need help with Ancient History?” His voice was tainted mischievously.

“Call your mother,” Dad Featherburn answered flatly. The front door slammed shut.

Canard lifted his head and looked toward Wildwing. “He’s not doing well, is he?” He inquired.

Wildwing shrugged, and while he didn’t turn from his book, Canard could tell his best friend was upset. “Their anniversary is in a week.”

No more explanation was needed.

No sarcastic comment followed, catching both Wildwing and Canard by surprise. They looked at the lump on the floor. Busily writing away, Nosedive was not in character. Immediately, the two thirteen-year-olds knew something was wrong.

“Dive?” Wildwing threw the remote, hitting his little brother in the leg. “You okay?”

Nosedive turned to his brother angrily, then flashed his characteristic goofy smile. “Yeah! Thanks for the remote.” He snatched it up and immediately flipped on Drake’s World on the E.W.R. (DL: electromagnetic wave receiver = T.V.) .

Canard and Wildwing exchanged knowing expressions when Nosedive resumed work, not even caring that his favorite show was on. Dropping his book to the floor, Canard cautiously grabbed the remote from the boy’s side. He flipped the channel without so much as a grumble from Nosedive.

“Okay, what’s up, little brother?” Wildwing asked, sitting up on the couch.

Nosedive dropped his writing utensil and looked back annoyed. “Nothing’s wrong, you worry wart.”

“Then why aren’t you being obnoxious, sarcastic, and generally yourself?” Canard shot back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I just happen to be working on some homework, okay?” Nosedive replied self-righteously, closing his book fast. “I don’t know; maybe you’ve done it once or twice.”

Wildwing tilted his head and gave a pointed glance toward the book, while Nosedive turned his attention toward the E.W.R. Canard gave his best friend one quick nod of corroboration.

“Hey, Dive?” Wildwing patted the seat next to him. “Why don’t you sit up here?”

“Aren’t you studying?” Nosedive questioned, sitting up crossed-leg and turning his attention to his older brother.

Canard snatched the paper from the book before Nosedive could react. “Oh man, a C- in Applications! No wonder you’re grumpy!”

“Give me that!” The boy screamed desperately and ripped the paper from Canard’s hand.

“A C-?” Wildwing echoed concerned, leaning closer to his brother. “What happened?”

Nosedive huffed and fell backwards onto the floor, covering his face with the paper. “I don’t want to talk about it, all right?”

Canard picked up Nosedive’s book, his eyes darting to a second paper hidden within its pages. He slowly pulled it out. “A D?! YOU GOT A D, TOO?”

“Wow, you’re bright! You can recite the alphabet to D!”

Wildwing was off the couch in a second, taking the paper from Canard and scanning it quickly. “Nosedive, why didn’t you tell me about these?” He demanded, holding the test at bay.

“I’m not here. I’m invisible. They can’t see me…” The younger brother rambled over and over.

Wildwing grabbed the paper from Nosedive’s face abruptly and stared down at the younger mallard’s stunned face with hard eyes. “Answer me, Nosedive.”

Pushing up, the eight-year-old propped himself on his elbows. “I didn’t get it, okay? Just leave it at that!”

“But why—”

“Are you Dad? Do I have to tell you if I got a bad grade? No!”

“Did you tell Dad?” Wildwing retorted.

The boy gulped and hung his head.

“Nosedive, you haven’t even told Dad?!”

“Well…not technically…” The boy moaned.

“What do you mean ‘not technically?’” Wildwing pressed, sitting down next to his brother.

Nosedive whined softly, “Well…He’ll get the news in the warning notice…”

Wildwing slapped his forehead, exasperated. “Nosedive, you’re barely passing Applications, and you didn’t come to either Dad or me. Do you know what this means?”

“I don’t get that new set of skates I wanted for Puck-O-Ween?” He hoped.

“It means that you probably will not get 2.0 for a grade.” Wildwing proclaimed sadly. “That means you won’t proceed to the next level. You’ll have to stay in second level for another year.”

Nosedive’s body dropped to the floor when his body suddenly became numb. “You—you—you mean I won’t—”

“Hey, look at the bright side, kid,” Canard encouraged. “At least you’ll be able to get A’s in all your other subjects.”

Blinking, Nosedive breathed in and out fast, looking from one elder to the other. “…Oh, man, Wing! Dad’s gonna kill me! He’s gonna…” He dropped his head to the floor and slowly banged it a few times. Maybe he could just pass out and never wake up…

Canard grabbed the tests from Wildwing and quickly scanned them. “Hey, Wildwing, you stopped about ten pucks out of twenty shots last game, right?”

Wildwing raised an eyebrow. “What game were you watching?”

Canard’s eyes widen, and he whacked his best friend in the shoulder with the tests.

“Oh, that game…” Wildwing replied, smiling. “Yeah, I caught only ten shots.”

“You sucked then, Wing,” Nosedive commented with a laugh. “Maybe you need some practice.”

“Yeah…” Canard breathed as he glanced at the papers, “Maybe you do…Wing, get your gear on! Nosedive, grab your stick!”

Nosedive’s face contorted in disbelief. “Ah, Canard…don’t you see what I’m getting? I think I need to do some homework first.”

“No!” The tan mallard cried as he wrenched Nosedive off the floor. “We need to play hockey to clear your mind!”

Two minutes later, Nosedive shot a puck from the middle of the driveway, hitting Wildwing’s glove. Canard dumped nineteen more pucks out from the crate onto the ice in front of the younger duck.

“Okay, shoot them at your brother.”

“All of them?” Nosedive asked in disbelief.

“Just do it!” Canard commanded.

“Okay-dokey…” He wound up and fired shot after shot after shot.

Leaning against his stick, Nosedive scratched his head at the ten pucks in the net, the other ten on the ground in front of the red line. “I hope this isn’t a pattern, big bro, or I want to be on the team against you from now on.”

Wildwing squatted at his little brother’s head, just missing Nosedive as the boy skated safely out of reach.

“Okay, Dive,” Canard instructed as he glided to the net. “How many pucks are in the net?”

Nosedive counted. “Ten.”

“How many are outside?”

Shrugging, the boy replied, “Ten. What? You can’t count for yourself?”

Canard rolled his eyes. “Okay, so if ten pucks are out of the net, and ten pucks are in the net, how many pucks do we have all together?”

Hesitation. “Twenty…?”

A sigh of relief. “Good, you can count. Now, how many pucks are in the net relative to the number of pucks all together?”

Nosedive looked from the net to the red line, then back into the net. He raised his head. “Huh? What the net is related to the huh—?”

“How many pucks are in the net, and how many pucks do we have all together?!”

“Oh! Well, why didn’t you just say so?” Nosedive retaliated dryly, then muttered quickly, “Geez, what am I? A mind reader?” He answered curtly, “You have ten in the net and twenty all together.”

“So, that’s ten pucks over the line after you shot and twenty pucks all together before you shot, right?”

Nosedive nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, yeah, so?”

Canard handed Nosedive back his paper. “That’s the answer to number one.”

Studying the test, Nosedive glanced from the paper to the pucks, then to where he shot. A smile slowly crept onto his face. “Yeah, yeah! I got you!”

Taking the paper back, Canard stated, “Okay, Wildwing let only three pucks into the net this time. Nosedive…”

*^*^*

After zipping up his book bag, Nosedive slammed shut his locker and hurried off toward his fifth period class. As he zoomed around the corner, the unsuspecting nine-year-old smacked directly into an awaiting forearm, sending him callously to the floor. Pain instantly wracked his beak as he softly touched the side. Blood smeared his fingers.

“Well, well, well. Look who we have here, boys. If it isn’t a freshmen.” The first teen cajoled, squatting down next to the fallen boy. “So, how do you like the Junior High Wing so far, kiddo?”

Nosedive griped as stared at the teen, “Was going great until I ran into some animals. Didn’t your mommas ever train you to be nice to others, or didn’t she hug you enough?”

The teen glanced back at his three friends, all dressed in black leather jackets and blue bananas, then returned his attention to Nosedive was a sly smirk. “Oh, a smart one, eh? Maybe we should educate you about the ways of this building, huh? Would you like that?” He flicked the boy in the forehead.

A hiss… “Nah, I think I got it pretty well already, but thanks for the offer. If I ever need any help understanding my life sentence without parole, I’ll know who to come to.” He pushed himself up to gain his footing, only to be pushed back down harshly, his posterior slamming into the tiles.

*RING*

The leader smiled sinisterly as he stood over Nosedive, the boy cringing in pain. “Aw, looks like the widdle freshmen is late to class and without a hall pass no less. How about we show him what the punishment is for roaming in my hallway without teacher certification.”

Gasping as the four boys neared him, Nosedive regretted ever passing Applications and shook as each teen reached for one of his appendages. His resolve kicked in as the first boy grabbed his arm. Nosedive clutched the hand, wrenching the fingers backward toward the wrist. The older boy screamed in pain and stumbled away from him. Instantly, two sets of hands grasped his legs and dragged him forward through the hallway. His eyes widen as he scoped the stairs up ahead. This is going to hurt, he winced.

Just as he was about to fall, he spotted the railing and grabbed onto it for dear love of his body. The two boys pulled and tugged at him by his legs, but with his arms wrapped securely around the railing, there was no way he was going to be pulled down those puppies. Uh-huh, nice try!

Suddenly, two hands clamped down upon his wrists, and his arms were violently jerked his hands free from the railing. Despite his resistance, he was lifted sufficiently above the stairs and carried down into the bathroom, while the boys chanted, “Flush the fresh! Flush the fresh!”

The leader dropped Nosedive’s feet to the ground, but his followers still held the boy’s arms firmly. Nosedive struggled, but was only met with a hard slap to the face, dazing him.

“The court of Caps. DuCaine Junior High Wing has tried and convicted you…you…what’s your name, kid?”

Nosedive blinked and tried to focus, but couldn’t. Pain swelled in his head, while suddenly he was frightened more so when he saw two leaders instead of one.

“Aw, it doesn’t matter, anyway,” the leader off-handed. “You’ve been convicted of trespassing in my kingdom without a pass. Any last words before flushage?”

Finally seeing one leader, Nosedive whimpered softly, his body shivering slightly. He put up a strong front as he spat, “Hey, does this come with a fries, too, or is it just the drink?”

Staring at Nosedive incredulously, the leader sneered, “Are you always this stupid, or is now a special occasion?”

A toilet was flushed in one of the stalls, and the door opened. As the person stepped out, Nosedive felt his heart skip a beat, and he let out a relieved breath.

“Nah, he’s always like this, Spike. Gotta love him for his wit, though. He is funny,” Canard answered for Nosedive, turning on the facet and washing his hands. He grabbed a paper towel and dried them as he walked toward the group.

“You know this twerp, Canard?” Spike, the leader, asked, pointing to his prey.

Canard nodded wistfully and threw the towel into the garbage. “Yeah. Hey, you guys know Wildwing, right?” He inquired casually, laying his elbow on Spike’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” “Sure,” “Of course,” were the responses.

“Well, meet Nosedive, Wildwing’s little brother,” Canard introduced with a smirk.

All the boys looked down at Nosedive, who was smiling widely, then turned back to Canard.

“Doesn’t look like ‘im,” one of the cronies commented.

“Be that as it may, Wildwing is very protective of his baby brother,” Canard explained nonchalantly, “and you know what? I like this kid. You pick on him or flush him, and I just might have to beat the shit out of you.” His voice, calm and friendly, caused the gang to squirm uneasily. “Now, I don’t know about you guys, but I like all my limbs just were they are. So if you’re like me, I’ll get out of here while I still could and never pick on this freshman again.” He smiled at Nosedive, then back at Spike. “But that’s just me. Maybe you guys would like the challenge of your arm as your leg.”

Spike gulped and wiped his sweaty forehead with his shaking hand. “You know, I’m kinda hungry, and we are late for lunch.” He swatted his followers’ arms, and the gang released Nosedive immediately. “Let’s get on line. It’s pork chop day! My favorite!” As he shuffled past Nosedive, he patted the boy’s head. “Sorry for the inconvenience, kid.”

“Yeah, well, you should just be glad that—Mmph!”

Canard’s hand clenched Nosedive’s beak fast. Nodding to the boys, he replied over Nosedive’s jumbled protests, “Thanks for your understanding, Spike.”

The gang left quickly, the bathroom door swinging shut behind them.

Canard promptly released Nosedive’s beak and tasseled the kid’s hair. “You okay?”

With a small exhale, Nosedive nodded and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I guess so, but I don’t think I would have liked a dip so soon out of the ice season.” He glanced into a stall and shivered slightly.

“Well, be grateful that senior Canard was here to save your butt this time, but do me a favor from now on. Take another route to fifth period, okay? Try cutting across the courtyard.” Draping his arm over the boy’s shoulders, he led Nosedive out of the bathroom and up the stairs.

“Hey Canard?” Nosedive asked, bending down for his book bag.

“Yeah, kiddo?”

Nosedive blushed as scratched the back of his head timidly. “Would you have…I mean…really have ….um…?”

A slight smirk formed onto Canard’s face. “For you, kid, yeah. Now any freshman…?” He nicked the boy under the chin. “Why didn’t you just fail Applications, huh?”

To Be Continued…