3. 2. 1.

  Okay. GO! I took off into a jog. The tiles on the roof slanted, so I stepped with extra attention, putting more weight on my right side. The side I was trying not to fall from—a balancing act.

  Is this what the Kid Crusader was doing?

  He was going so fast.

  My feet moved on their own–it was working. A few yards in front of me was another house that stood about the same height as this one.

  Alright–I could do this. I picked up the pace, foot almost slipping along the tiles, but I kept going.

  Faster. Faster.

  As I neared the end of the roof, the ground expanded into a large gap, wider than it had appeared before. I'm not going to make it. This was impossible. But my feet didn't stop even when my heart did.

  As soon as I ran out of roof to sprint on, I pressed my feet into the tile. For a second, there was nothing. Not in front of me, or behind, or below me.

  CRAP.

  I was too low. The next house's roof was rising above me as I fell.

  I curled my legs up with only a millisecond to spare, calves hitting the edge of the house—an intense pain shot through from my legs.

  The burn radiated in pulsing waves under my skin, and I quickly lifted myself onto the roof, biting down on my lip so hard I could almost taste the blood.

  "Alex!" Lemley yelled, "are you okay?"

  Lemley had caught up and was staring up at me from the ground below.

  "Yeah, I'm fine." I lied. I'm sure there was a stutter in my voice when I said it. But I didn't care. My calves were still on fire.

  I shouldn't have done that... If I wanted to practice at all, this was the stupidest way to do it. Tall houses with huge spaces between. But The Kid Crusader had done it like it was just another day. How? Did he practice at all?

  Nevermind. With the way he moved with such confidence, he was probably born with it. Not like me. I was born weak.

  "You should come down," Lemley said, stepping backward to give me space.

  "One second," I called to her.

  I scooted to the edge of the house. It was a long drop. I had used a broken fence that had leaned against a house to get up to the rooftops, but now the ground was too far down.

  There was nothing below me to land on and break my fall but dirt and grass. And Lemley.

  "Are you coming?" Lemley asked.

  "Yeah," I told her, and placed my hands on the edge. I slid to my bottom and off the roof until I hung from it.

  The roof was a flat surface– nothing to grip as I dangled above the ground.

  Then I let go.

  My stomach immediately rose to my chest. I was falling too fast.

  I spread my fingers out, scraping the wall, trying to catch something so I didn't hit the ground so suddenly.

  I caught something. My finger did. A window pane struck my pinky finger on the way down, and as I tried to cling to the wood to slow the fall, something popped, and I plunged.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  My feet hit the ground first, and I fell backward onto my rump.

  Dang it! My finger throbbed so I shook it out, but it wouldn't stop hurting. Lemley was quickly standing over me.

  "Can we go home?" she asked.

  No. Better if she would just... go away. I couldn't answer, just hissed through my teeth like it would help ease the sting in my hand.

  I curled my fingers, and each one pressed into my palm, except one. It wasn't bending.

  "What happened?" Lemley asked.

  "It got hurt. What does it look like?" I snapped at her louder than I meant to.

  Lemley took my hand to look at it, gawking at the swelling as if it would magically make it better.

  I pulled it back from her and stood up. "Come on," I told her, rubbing my hand on my shirt.

  I needed to move. I just needed to think about something else. Anything else.

  My pinky finger was supposed to be small, but it had thickened, grown larger than the others, and started to turn reddish purple. I tried to move it again, and it barely budged.

  I started walking one way. Not even sure where to anymore, and it didn't matter. The throbbing from my finger coursed through my whole hand, and nothing was going to help it.

  Lemley walked beside me, "Do you think Amira can help?"

  Right. Lemley was always looking for dumb excuses to play with Amira and used her as an answer for every question.

  "She might know what to do," Lemley said again, as if I didn't hear her the first time.

  Well... right now I couldn't even think. Amira was my age, kind of smart when she wasn't with Lemley, and sometimes made a good point. Maybe seeing Amira wasn't a bad idea.

  Seeing Amira was a bad idea.

  A piece of wood had been strapped to my finger, and Amira's mom was putting a fiery liquid on my head that burned my scalp. It smelled like the men who stumbled past us at night. Kind of sour.

  Lemley had just finished her burning head routine. I didn't want it. But Amira's mom, Maple, said if I didn't kill the bugs on my head, they'd just go back to Lemley's again. Our hair got more attention than my broken finger.

  In the kitchen, Amira was putting some of that liquid in a bottle for us to bring home. Apparently, we'd have to put it on daily.

  "You should have come here sooner." Maple was getting aggressive with my head, fingers combing through my long hair and rubbing my scalp. It made my skin tingle.

  Maple had always invited us to stay. Like clockwork. Every time. She was about to now, wasn't she?

  "We're doing fine," I said.

  "You could stay here," Maple said, and lowered her hands to her lap.

  There it was. Lemley's face lit up as always, like she thought there was still some hope I would change my mind.

  "No thanks." I stood up and fixed my hair, running it back behind my shoulders so it stayed there, and I wouldn't look like a girl. My hand started to burn a little from touching it. That was some strong stuff...

  "Please," Lemley said, with her lips curved into a frown.

  "Come on, Lemley. Let's go." I headed to the door, but Lemley wasn't following.

  Amira came from the kitchen, holding the bottle of skunk, a concerned look on her face. She had brown hair and green eyes, and a big nose. Around here, she was the only kid we could find to play with us, and we'd gotten kind of used to her and her family since Lemley took a liking to her.

  "It's okay, Lemley. You can always come by and play with Amira if you want." Maple said, " I think it's probably best you get rid of the bugs on your head first anyway... I don't want to have to treat Amira's hair, too."

  "It's awful," Amira said, handing me the bottle.

  She stared down at my hand as I grabbed it, not letting go of the bottle. My finger wrapped around, except for the broken one. That one stuck out.

  "What happened to your finger, anyway?" She asked, finally letting go.

  "I... broke it."

  She stood back and scrunched her eyebrows at me like I said something stupid, "Duh– I was asking how."

  "He was trying to jump on houses like the Kid Crusader," Lemley told her.

  Great. Thanks, Lemley.

  Amira opened her mouth to talk, but Maple did instead.

  "Kid Crusader, huh?" Maple repeated. "Have you met him? He comes to the market on Fridays."

  What? She had the wrong idea. It's not like I look up to the guy or anything; he's just a kid who's a little older than I am.

  "No. I don't really want to. Jumping on houses and stuff just looked fun," I told them, and held up my finger, "It's not fun at all."

  Amira frowned. Probably because I didn't look up to her idol like she did. I opened the door, and Lemley ducked under my arm, heading outside like it was a race.

  Maybe out of respect for Amira, since Maple said she would give her bugs. At least she was being respectful.

  "Okay.. Well... Come play soon, okay?" Amira said. And started to close the door behind us.

  Of course. Who else would we play with in this side of town, where there were hardly any kids? Not anymore anyway, which felt stranger by the day. At least Amira was always there. Not the best of friends, and she was really bossy when we played, but Lemley liked her.

  It was dark outside. Only one candle was in sight to light up a few boxes and tools alongside a nearby house.

  The boxes would make a good step ladder. No—I'm not going to do that again.

  I'm not the Kid Crusader. But... maybe I could still meet him.

  On market day.

  The Age of Spring contains chapter art I made, and is told 3rd person limited-through the eyes of each POV. It's romance-forward, but is not considered a romance novel. Feelings of love and acceptance are part of these characters' emotional journey.