Sam's clothes dripped, weighing him down. He wanted to run, but he was unsure where to go. Which way was safe for him to escape? Sam was surrounded by enemies, watching him hidden in the forest, ready to join in his demise. One of them stood before him, gloating.

"You're screwed now!" Blake jeered.

"Shut up," despite his frustration, he raised his arms in surrender, still clutching his switchblade. 

The canopy of trees and foliage obscured the figures speaking down at them. 

"Drop the knife," the command sounded discordant from the speaker's trembling voice.

Were they that afraid of Sam? Maybe it was just one other person besides Blake. They sounded cowardly, considering they had the advantage of numbers and the high ground.

Sam made a tentative step back. Maybe they wouldn't catch him if he made a run for it. 

A stone zipped over him, grazing his hair. 

“Nuh uh, uh,” another voice sang. Although playful, this one had a bit more bite to it.

Sam could picture them wagging a finger in his face. 

"She said drop it."

Cursing under his breath, he glared at Blake before turning to whoever was hiding in the trees. "Fine!" He hurled his knife, sending it skipping into the creek.

"Alright. Thanks, now white boy, drop it." 

"What?" Samson blinked.

"You heard them drop it," Blake said, cradling the rock on his hip. 

A rock shot down, splashing between them, barely missing Blake.

Samson flinched and, belated, hunched over to duck any more hits.

But Blake paid no mind to that, instead coming closer to jab a finger in Samson's direction. "Drop it!"

"I already did." Samson snapped. He raised his hands for emphasis at the fool.

"No! I meant the other white boy!" the person yelled, annoyed.

"Yeah, the other white-" Blake's smirk fell, along with his train of thought. He whirled to face whoever was shouting.

"Wait. What other white boy?" looking to Sam, confused, then panicked and surveyed the surrounding area.

Samson checked around, too, he hadn't noticed anyone besides Blake, but then he only focused on kicking his butt. He grimaced, his sight settling back to him. There's no one else besides him. "I think they mean you," He said, bemused.

Blake pulled a face, "what? No. They meant," he paused and turned back to shout. "Did you mean me?"

"Yes, you!" they shouted back, exasperated.

“Who else,” the girl hollered dryly. "Drop the brick."

"It's a rock," Blake exclaimed up at them.

"Oh, I'm sorry, a rock," the dulcet voice drawled. A curtain of leaves rustled then parted, and a girl wearing an oversized lavender hoodie emerged from the bent branches. She had relaxed dark brown hair cut asymmetrically, with wispy bangs obscuring her eyes. Tossing a pebble in the air, she shifted her weight to the side. "Glad we cleared that up. Now, drop the rock."

Blake held fast as if gripping a valuable possession and spat, "no, he pulled a knife on me!"

Samson squinted, judging how hard he could slug the other boy to feel better. He concluded not hard enough to leave him satisfied and erupted. "I just threw it away five seconds ago!"

"He called the cops!"

"They ignored me!"

"He chased me!"

"No shit! You stole my money and my shoes!"

At that last accusation, another girl came forward from behind a tree. She was shorter than the other, with tan skin and shiny black hair parted in the middle, revealing her tiny eyes and anxious expression. "Y-you took his shoes?"

"He's lying," Blake shouted but held less heat than he'd lobbied.

"You also watched me while I slept, you creep!"

"Ew," she grimaced, not bothering to hide her disdain towards Blake.

"Ugh." Blake pulled a face at that. "Hell no, I didn't. Lu did that," he shrugged in the direction of whoever this Lu person was.

Another pebble shot down into the creek, skipping on the water towards Blake. 

Blake turned and deftly blocked it with the rock he was gripping. He cocked his head to face his attacker, and his expression was mutinous."

"Did you steal from him or not?" she said, with one black eye peeking through her wispy bangs.

"He was asleep and had enough money to waste on corn," Blake shrugged. "So yeah, I took 'em."

Samson kicked out, dousing Blake, shouting, "screw you!"

"Screw you too! I did you a favor. Someone would have jacked you and sold you for parts, maybe not your head since you don't have a good one."

"Blake!" both girls shouted.

"What!"

"Drop the rock," 

"Are you serious!"

"Yes! If you're scared of him, get away from him," her voice cracked like the sound of crumbling autumn leaves, someone unused to raising their voice above a whisper.

Blake furrowed brows, and his lip was contemptuous. "Scared? I'm not scared of him. He's a punk," he said, not bothering to turn in Samson's direction.

"Then put it down," Samson said.

"Shut up. I'm not talking to you!"

"If you're not scared of me, then prove it," Samson goaded him.

Blake rolled his eyes but turned his whole body towards him, straightening his posture.

Samson did likewise and ran his hand through his damp hair, wringing out muddy droplets. They glared at each other as if unsatisfied with a reflection, and like a couple of wet alley cats, they circled each other.

A splash startled them apart.

"Hey, both of you, keep your distance," she said, raising another rock ready to pelt them.

They looked at her heeding her request- for about a second, then went back to cursing each other.

"I'll kill you!" Sam yelled.

"See, that's a confession!"

"It's a threat, dumbass," Samson snapped.

"Both of you, just get out of the mud," the black-eyed girl ordered.

"Blake, drop the brick," the black-haired girl pleaded.

"No!" Blake shouted back, turning on Sam to jab a finger in his direction. "He tried to kill me five minutes ago over a few damn dollars and an old ass shoe. The way I see it, I'm just defending myself," With that, he sprinted off to heave the rock at Sam. 

  Samson cursed before skipping back, evading the first brash swing. "I should've stabbed you like I wanted." He kicked out at him, sending the other boy momentarily off balance. 

Blake recovered by swinging back around at him, hitting air and missing Samson's head by an inch.

Samson recoiled, splashing as much as possible to obscure Blake's vision.

Blake backed away, spitting out mud water that collected in his mouth. 

Giving Samson time to catch his breath, he wanted to hold his ground and maybe manage to outmuscle Blake. The other boy was tall but wiry framed, emaciated even. They were both sopping wet, but Blake had more layers than him, with his ripped jeans over pajama pants and coat clinging to his body like a soaked mop, not to mention his improvised weapon was hard to grasp. Or should be, but Blake managed to hold fast to his blunt murder weapon. Sam kicked out at him again, hoping he'd slip up and drop the damn thing.

Out of breath, Blake wobbled forward, circling Sam and hugging the rock to him like a teddy bear. 

He's not going to loosen his grip. I just need to feign a block or maybe take a hit. Samson walked back and abruptly kneeled as if he had slipped. 

Blake straightened to charge at him in earnest. 

Samson dipped his hand at his feet, running his palms over the sludge he pressed down until he felt a hard, smooth rock no bigger than the palm of his hand. It'll have to do. He grasped it. Using his free hand, he swept it to raise a small wave, raising his arm out to block. It'll hurt, but I just need to hit him back faster. He gritted his teeth, bracing himself for the pain.

  In place of that, a thunderous cascade drenched him up to his elbows.

Samson's vision blurred. He quickly wiped away the wetness and gaped at Blake's crumpled form; his pinched expression was a silent wail of agony. Another splash caught him off guard, and he turned back to where the girls were hiding. 

The dark-haired girl had emerged, climbing down, to wade through the creek to Blake, where he was lying in the murky waters coughing and moaning. 

Samson eyed him and caught sight of the brick-sized rock lying a few feet away, free for grabs. 

Blake caught his eye, cradling the side of his head. Still helpless.

Samson reached out his hand and immediately regretted moving.

He recoiled as a meer pebble smacked his wrist and cursed at the throbbing pain.  

"Both of you, get out of the lake!" The browned-skinned girl shouted. She raised her arm, winding up to make another throw.

Samson raised his arms in surrender again and marched out of the water towards the creek's shore. He slipped, and the girl who injured him offered her hand.

He just stared at her for a moment before taking it. "Who are you?"

She steadied him and said, "I'm Lulu; I'm the one who invited you."