Page 89 of That Girl is Trouble

“Seven,” Eli says, glancing sidelong at Triss. “She hasn’t been much help.”

“Seven to two!” I shout, going for an inspiring battle cry. I peek through the window above me, eyes narrowed at the bridge hovering over the pit that connects our two territories. A plastic ball comes out of nowhere. I don’t have time to duck before it pelts me in the face.

Ouch. I curse loudly, and a deep chuckle echoes from across the way. “You about ready to surrender, Kitty?” Axe shouts.

“In your dreams, Donovan. You?”

“Nope.”

“Then get ready to bow to us,” I yell back. “And you will! Even if it takes all night!”

“Actually,” Tucker murmurs. “Mom said I have to be back at the square by three.”

I point at him, throwing on my fiercest game face. “Well, then you better hope we win. No one’s leaving until we take those mother f”—I snap my mouth shut, looking down at the group of eight- to ten-year-olds kneeling with me—“fudgers. Not until we take those mother fudgers down.”

“But…” Harper starts, worrying her lower lip. “They’ve beaten us every time. And we’ve nearly run out of balls.”

“You’re right, Harper. They have our cannon balls. They have the advantage. But we will be victorious. They can throw us into the foam pit over and over again. They can take our weapons and territory and even our people,” I say, pausing, as we all say a silent prayer for Dalton, who remains a prisoner of war. “But they cannot take our bravery, our determination. They cannot take our freedom!” I yell triumphantly.

My battalion of little warriors whoop and shout with me as we huddle closer to make our plan.

“That was literally Braveheart,” Triss says with a snort.

“Shush! Now, listen young warriors,” I implore, dropping my voice and motioning to Lucas and Eli. “You two take Lieutenant Triss and head out to the left. I want a full-out assault on the front line.”

They collectively groan, and Triss throws them a mild version of her usual scowl.

“Fret not!” I assure them, still keeping with the dramatics. “The Viking one with the man bun cares deeply for her. Use her as a shield if you must!”

Eli snickers, tying a red piece of flagging tape around his head, Rambo style. “You got it, Captain.”

I nod to Triss. “Take off your tights.”

Her face screws up like she’s just eaten a lemon. “What?”

“Now, Danforth!”

Shockingly, Triss doesn’t argue, likely just looking forward to the end of this adventure. She hands me her nylons, and I quickly get to work, tying a leg to either side of the window flaps and pulling the middle back to form a slingshot. “Emma and Caleb, I want you throwing cannon balls every thirty seconds. Got it?”

They nod in unison, throwing me matching salutes and yelling out, “Yes, ma’am!”

“Tuck and Harper, you’re with me. We’re going covert. We’ll sneak out the side and crawl under the bridge. There’s a rope ladder on the far wall. While they’re distracted, we’ll attack. Remember. The priority is the flag. Save Dalton only if you can.”

“Kat. These are children,” Triss reminds me.

“We grow up quickly in times of war,” I declare, waving her off.

I throw my hand in the centre of the huddle, and it’s joined by six smaller hands. We all whisper, “Red team, out!” before springing into action.

The balls fly fast, the aim more precise now that we’re using a slingshot. Taking advantage of the distraction, I slide out the side window and land in the pit. Tuck and Harper follow. We tread slowly through the chunks of foam, struggling to sneak our way under the bridge and to the far side of blue base where the rope ladder rests against the vinyl wall. In the distance, I hear a battle roar. Right on time, Eli and Lucas are on the attack. The shouts are followed by a loud shriek—no doubt Triss taking a hit to her face and her pride.

We meet no opposition, and I narrow my eyes, looking up at the jostling blue bouncy castle as we pass it and reach the ladder. Steadying my foam sword in my hand, I adjust the satchel that holds a few spare balls I have tied across my chest.

Nodding to Tucker, I motion for him to climb and press my finger to my lips. He gives me another salute and starts his ascent before disappearing completely. It’s quiet a beat, and then—

“Ahh!” Tucker’s scream is deafening, and a moment later, he’s being thrown into the pit, his small body disappearing under a sea of foam chunks.

Shocked, I look up and come face to face with a smiling Axel Donovan staring down at me. “You know the rules, kid,” he shouts at Tucker, whose head has just popped up from below the foam. “You get tossed, you circle back and hit your base.”

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