We meet the raccoons in the grassy field. One of them gives us a warning as we get close, and when we ignore it, the little one in the front of the pack stops walking and starts giving orders in its little chittering voice.

  The two big ones pick up speed, meeting us head on.

  Is it too late to throw my remaining Rank Token into Strength?

  I stop running in time to set up my swing and one of the big raccoons hurls himself in the air toward my face.

  The bat whistles through the air.

  Contact! The first raccoon goes spinning out, but the second one is right behind him. I had assumed, apparently incorrectly, that it had gone after Ryder.

  When he launches at me, I don’t have time to set up my swing. Instead I duck, falling into a roll sideways, barely managing to hang on to my bat. It’s a move I wouldn’t have been able to do without that Fighter class. The raccoon lands a few feet away and I can hear its claws rip out chunks of grass as it changes direction, dirt clods flying as it comes back at me. I scramble up to my feet and kick out before I can think too hard, sending it soaring. It makes contact with the one coming back at me and they go bowling backwards.

  Using the free moment, I scope out Ryder. He’s holding his fireball out in front of him as two of the raccoons approach, walking upright on their back legs. He still hasn’t figured out how to get the fireball off his hand, and I don’t like the close quarters. But that’s not something we can really work on right now. I trust that he’s got it handled.

  The two oversized raccoons growl and hiss as they come barreling toward me at full speed. Both of them, huge and fast, beelining right at me in tandem, is a little terrifying. But I can’t keep avoiding them, or being on the defence. I stand my ground, watching their approach kicking up dirt and dust in their wake, counting down in my head and then—praying that my Fighter class will make me graceful enough for this—I spin sideways and bring my baseball bat down in a hard vertical arc as the raccoon runs past me.

  For lack of a better word, it goes splat, legs splayed and skidding a few feet on its stomach. While the other circles back around again, I use the moment to play whack-a-mole on the mutated raccoon. Whack! Whack! I think I scream again, my frustration coming out in smacks and shouts. But the first raccoon doesn’t get up, blood oozing from the blunt force trauma on its head, and I turn to the other.

  It changes tactics, not just running at me and leaping, and instead squares off against me. Its little muzzle jerks as it looks at me, flicking between my face, my blood-drenched bat, and its dead friend. It lifts its lips, growling, looking so far removed from the cute raccoons of my memories. If I think about the baby raccoons that lived behind the building where I lived in with Alex, I might never be able to do what needs to be done. So I growl right back at it.

  It takes a step to the right. I mirror it.

  The ridiculousness of the situation makes me want to laugh. I’m having a stand-off against a raccoon.

  An explosion goes off to my left, knocking both me and the raccoon off our feet. I lose my grip on my bat, but I don’t give that a second thought, because the explosion came from Ryder’s direction.

  “Ryder!” I scream, hoarse, my ears ringing a little. There’s a wall of smoke in the space where the kid was standing moments ago. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he didn’t have it handled.

  “I’m okay!” he yells back, invisible in the smoke. “Levelled up my Ability!” But the smoke is moving, already spreading out to fill the immediate vicinity. Half of it isn’t even smoke, I realize, but the same dusty dirt that covers half the field. It got agitated by Ryder’s upgraded Ability.

  The remaining oversized raccoon lets out a chitter, but it’s a weaker sound than before. I try to spot it before the smoke hinders too much of my sight.

  More importantly, I have to grab my bat.

  It’s a few feet away, so I clamber up to my feet and lunge for it, rushing over to the oversized raccoon before it can right itself, and after a few quick bashes it goes the same way as the other.

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  That frees me up to head directly to where Ryder is. Already most of the smoke is gone, cleared up, to reveal that Ryder’s left facing one raccoon—and from what I can tell, it’s a magically mutated one. It makes the motions of throws with its hands, and I can see where Ryder takes the hits. There’s bruises on his arms. Air-powered? Or just a generic, unspecific, magical ability?

  There needs to be something more I can do. I look around.

  I run straight towards the raccoon.

  Ryder’s gaze moves away from his opponent as he sees me moving, his eyes widening, and he cries out, “No!”

  It’s too late, I’m already there, and the raccoon turns toward me.

  Right for me to chuck the handful of the dry dirt I scooped up directly into its face.

  Ryder lets out a whoop as he runs forward too, conjuring up a fireball as he goes, and as the raccoon tries to wipe the sand from its eyes, Ryder tackles the thing flame-first.

  The smell of burning fur and charred skin permeates the air. Ryder and I look at each other, panting, both of us wrinkling our noses. And that’s when we realize we won the fight, and we both start laughing.

  We head back to the car.

  “That was impressive,” Nancy says when we get there, two pristine hard-shell suitcases waiting at the trunk. She holds out her hands as soon as we get close, and Ryder and I each clasp onto a hand.

  “Thanks,” Ryder says.

  I pause, because that coffee-on-a-spring-day feeling doesn’t come over me. I look down at myself, realizing that I didn’t take too much damage. Maybe that’s why. But Ryder’s bruises aren’t fading, either.

  “Game?” Ryder says. “Why isn’t it working?”

  Party Member Nancy has control over her Healing. You needs to choose to activate it, choose how much power to give it. For example, if you wanted to only heal someone enough to stop active bleeding but not close a wound, you should have the finesse to do so.

  Nancy closes her eyes and I slip my hand out of hers. Let her focus her magic on Ryder. And sure enough, a moment later, the purple on his arms melts into a yellow and then vanishes all together. She opens her eyes and smiles broadly. “That was so cool. I knew exactly how much healing you needed.”

  Ryder grins right back. “The Game makes everything better,” he says astutely.

  “Come on,” I say, breaking up the celebration. “We have a house to find.”

  ***

  Nancy directs us to the street called Stonehaven that she knows. I’ve probably driven past it a million times in my life, since I’ve driven this stretch of road a million times in my life, so I feel a little inept. But Ryder is literally bouncing in his seat behind me, so I can’t be upset about this particular series of events.

  “I know this place!” he screeches from the backseat, fingers digging into the leather of the car door, and Nancy and I share a small glance at his… youthful exuberance. But I dutifully turn up the street, passing a plaza with a Shopper’s Drug Mart and Tim Horton’s and one of the dime-a-dozen, fast-food Tex-Mex places.

  Man, what I would do right now for a quick and easy burrito.

  The street is quiet once we get to the residential section, a few semi-detached units leading into larger, two-car garage homes. There’s a few scattered cars here, parked along curbs or sticking right into the narrow two-lane street. I have to do a little more weaving, and at one point go over a curb, but we’re barely past the first block when a squat, two-story school comes into view.

  “That’s it!” Ryder says, unbuckling his seatbelt to lean between the front seats. “That’s my school!”

  “Put your seatbelt back on!” Nancy says immediately, but I’m already slowing down along the curb in front of the building.

  “Cute place,” I say, placing the car into park and twisting in my seat. “Do we need to walk from here or do you know the way even in a car?”

  Ryder rolls his eyes at me. “I know the way driving, god.”

  Nancy lets out a small laugh, and I shoot her a look. “Get out of my car,” I tease, but then I break into a grin. “Switch with Ryder so he can give me directions.”

  Nancy sticks her tongue out at me but the two do, and soon we’re pulling away from the curb. We keep heading further along Stonehaven Avenue.

  I start to notice that many of the houses have their front doors wide open. I don’t know if the others spot it, or realize what it could mean. But a small thread of dread has begun winding itself around my stomach.

  It takes us another five minutes of following Ryder’s directions, creeping up the street, making a couple turns, before he—despite the last ten minutes of giggles, exclamations, and excitement—lets out a sob.

  I guess that means we’re there.

  Ryder, wordlessly, tears on his cheeks, points to a red brick house, black roof and black garage doors, sandwiched between two other houses in shades of brown and cream with three garages each. All in all, a nice place to live.

  And sure enough, the front door is wide open.

  “Wait,” Ryder says, noticing it as well. He uses his arm to wipe at his face, clearing the tears. “Someone’s home!”

  I turn into the driveway. “We don’t know for sure—”

  “Stop it, Jane,” Ryder scolds from beside me. “Stop being such a negative Nancy!” He pauses, glances into the back seat. “No offence.”

  “None taken,” Nancy says.

  Ryder turns back to me. “Someone is clearly home, and they’re waiting for me.”

  Without another word, before I can stop him, Ryder rips off his seatbelt, throws open the car door, and bolts into the house.