They tried knocking first.
It was dumb, and they both knew it—but what else could they do? The medallion was still in the girls' locker room. If they could just get in for five minutes...
Instead, the moment the door cracked open, the manager’s furious face greeted them—eyes bloodshot, phone already in hand.
“You two AGAIN?!” he bellowed. “What the hell did I say?!”
“Sir—wait, please—” Drew tried, but his voice came out high and soft, almost a squeak.
“Don’t ‘sir’ me, kid! I’m calling the cops if I see either of you near this place again! You're banned. You hear me? BANNED. I’m taking your picture and putting it at every desk—if anyone who works here sees either of you, they’re to call the police immediately.”
He snapped a photo with his phone before slamming the door in their faces.
Drew and Kate just stood there in the fading afternoon light, stunned. No medallion. No second chances.
And Drew had no shoes.
It only took a few blocks before his small feet started to sting, then bleed—cut up from gravel and pavement and the occasional piece of broken glass hidden in the sidewalk cracks.
Kate sighed. “Okay. Enough. Get on.”
“No.”
“Drew, you’re literally limping.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not. You’re bleeding, and I’m not going to let you shred Tommy’s feet just because you’re too proud to—”
“I said I’m fine!”
Kate crouched in front of him anyway, offering her back. “You want to walk home barefoot in a skating costume looking like a lost puppy? Be my guest.”
Drew glared for a few seconds longer—then sighed, quietly miserable.
It took a lot of awkward maneuvering, but eventually he climbed up onto her back, arms wrapping around her shoulders, long hair falling over his face as he rested against her neck.
To everyone else on the street, it just looked like a teen boy giving his exhausted little brother a piggyback after skating practice.
They got a few smiles. One elderly woman even waved.
The walk felt endless. Kate didn’t speak much, just grunted occasionally as she carried him the last few blocks. By the time they reached Drew’s apartment, he was red-faced from embarrassment and she was sweating through her shirt.
He slid off her back with a tired huff and limped to the door, unlocking it. The cool air inside was a shock after the heat outside. His legs were sore, his arms tingled, and the skating costume—meant for indoor rinks—was getting sticky in all the wrong places.
He flopped onto the couch and groaned.
Kate stood nearby, still catching her breath, her longer limbs looking absurd in Drew’s cramped little living room.
Drew rested his head against the cushion and stared at the ceiling. “So… now what? I’m stuck like this. You’re stuck like that. At least you’re mostly through puberty. I don’t even have real clothes.”
He tugged at the tight blue costume, already damp with sweat. “This thing’s making me boil in here…”
Kate looked equally wilted, her expression distant. “Yeah… I guess the first thing we do is get you something to wear.”
She glanced around. “Where’s your wallet?”
“Bedroom,” Drew mumbled. “Side table.”
“Alright,” Kate said, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’ll go grab some stuff. Probably tell the cashier I’m buying clothes for my kid brother. No one’s gonna question it.”
That made Drew smile faintly. “You’re gonna make a great big brother.”
Kate shot him a look. “Don’t push it, tiny.”
With that, she stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind her.
Drew lay still, the room warm and quiet. His feet ached. His skin felt too tight in the costume. His hair clung to his neck in damp strands.
He stared at his hands—small, delicate, child's hands with fine wrists and slender fingers.
“This is such a mess,” he whispered.
