He felt like telling Krista had released something in him. He no longer felt worried when he thought of Trent, thinking about how people would react if they found out. He now wanted to hire a megaphone and drive around Reefside, announcing it to the whole city.

Except he did realize that doing that might not be the best of ideas.

He thought of people he could tell: mostly soccer friends, on the school or the club team: Derek, Luke, Adam . . .

But he never thought of many before Ethan’s name came up. He needed to tell Ethan. But whenever he thought of doing it, his excitement melted away.

Which was why Conner was hovering outside the Cyberspace, telling himself he could do this.

He shouldn’t even feel nervous. Ethan wouldn’t care. He wasn’t the type to freak out about something like this—over a new videogame, yes, over his best friend being gay, probably not.

He should just go in, and say it. ‘Ethan, I am dating Trent’. Short and sweet.

But was dating the right word? Should he use ‘seeing’? ‘Going out with’?

“Conner?”

He jumped, spinning round to see Hayley frowning at him in confusion. “Are you going in?” she asked, nodding towards the cyberspace doors.

“Um, yeah. I was just . . .” He paused, struggling to think of an excuse to explain his behavior. “Waiting for Ethan?”

“Well, I think he’s inside.”

“Right.” He held the door open for her to go through, trying to think of another excuse that would let him go running out again. Or anything, really, that would let him avoid Ethan a bit longer. “So . . . how’s business going?”

“It would probably be better if you weren’t standing in the doorway. Ethan’s over there.”

“Right.” Weren’t women supposed to be sympathetic and caring? “I’ll go see him then.”

“You do that.”

He walked over to Ethan, trying to shake off the feeling that Hayley was laughing at him. “Hey,” he said, sitting at the table. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. You wanna go see a movie next weekend?”

Not if Ethan was choosing the film. “I think I’m busy. Um, Ethan . . .”

Ethan looked up, face questioning. “What?”

Say it, Conner told himself. Just say it. But then he imagined Ethan turning away from him, denouncing him, refusing to talk to him, fight beside him.

He didn’t think he could stand Ethan hating him.

He told himself to say it anyway. Ethan wouldn’t hate him. They were best friends. Ethan had never given any hint he was homophobic, any hint he would care.

“Um . . . do you know if we have science homework for tomorrow?”

He couldn’t do it.

--

“That was good,” Dr. O told him, slapping his arm. “You’re really improving.”

“Thanks,” said Conner, feeling a glow of pleasure at the fact that Dr. O obviously meant his words. The training session had been hard, but he knew he’d done good.

And now he was going to ruin it.

They’d barely defeated Mesogog’s Jade Warrior before Elsa had turned Dr. Morton into a volcano-monster. Conner hadn’t had a chance to speak to Dr. O in the few days between—but he knew the delay did not look good. “Dr. O?”

“Yes, Conner?”

Conner hesitated, his promise to Trent once more floating through his mind. But counter-arguments soon followed: that Trent could be in danger, that Mesogog could have started a new strategy of attacking them at home, targeting their families . . . Alright, he hadn’t since the attack at Trent’s house, but Mesogog had been busy too. Dr. O needed to know.

“I have to tell you something.”

Dr. O turned in his chair, giving Conner his full attention. “You want to sit down?”

“No.” Sitting down meant being unable to pace. “The other day,” hopefully Dr. O wouldn’t ask exactly when, “I was visiting Trent.” And hopefully Dr. O would just forget that as well, and concentrate on Conner. “When some tyrannodrones attacked. I—”

“Wait.” Dr. O took off his glasses, something he did when he wanted to think.

Or when he was mad. He did it then too.

“Tyrannodrones attacked while you were at Trent’s house?”

“Yes.”

“And when was this?”

So much for the first hope. “About a week or so?”

“Could you be a little more exact?”

“Not last Sunday, but the Sunday before.” Almost two weeks.

“Why didn’t you tell me then?”

Because Trent made me promise not to. “It slipped my mind? There’s been a lot going on!” Trent would probably be mad enough, without Conner adding extra details to get him in trouble.

Besides, he didn’t want it to look like he was blaming Trent.

“There have been plenty of chances for you—or Trent—to tell me. You’re both rangers. You know you should report all attacks immediately—especially in circumstances like this!” He paused, watching for a reaction. Conner tried not to fidget. Now he wished he had accepted a seat—it might make him feel less like he’d been dragged before a teacher for a telling off. Which he supposed he technically had been, but . . .

“Where is Trent now?” Dr. O asked, evidently losing patience.

“Trent wasn’t actually there when the tyrannodrones attacked,” said Conner, making one last attempt at keeping Trent out of it.

Dr. O didn’t buy it. “You were at his house, and he wasn’t there.”

“He was inside . . .”

“And he didn’t know about it? He didn’t come out to help you?”

“Well, he did, but . . .”

“Right.” Dr. O turned back to the computer, using it to beep Trent’s communicator. They had to wait a few minutes for a response.

“Trent here.”

“It’s Dr. Oliver. Are you able to come by sometime this evening? I want to talk about the tyrannodrones that attacked your house. Two weeks ago.”

A beat of silence. Conner winced, imagining Trent’s reaction.

“Conner told you?”

“Yes. Would it help if he came by and picked you up?”

Meaning Dr. O wanted to yell at the both together. Wonderful.

“Yeah, it would,” said Trent. “I’m at the cyberspace.”

“Right. He’ll be there soon.”

--

The glare Trent gave Conner should have been lethal. “You promised not to tell him,” he said as he got in the car, slamming the door behind him. “Why did you?”

“Trent, I had to. I’m sorry.” Best to get the apologies in early. He didn’t bother starting up the car: arguing and driving did not go together.

“Why?”

Conner sighed. “Because this isn’t just about you, alright? I mean, what if Mesogog made a mistake, attacking while we were there? He could have been trying to kidnap your dad!”

“He wasn’t! Conner, it was a meaningless attack. Why did you have to say anything?”

Conner shook his head, unable to understand why Trent seemed so confident. “How do you know?”

Trent looked away. “Isn’t Dr. O waiting?”

“Yes, but . . . I just want you to understand why I told him. I mean, you might think it’s meaningless, but what if it’s some new strategy of Mesogog’s? Go after our families? Think about Ethan—what would happen if Mesogog kidnapped his sister.” Conner had only met Kayleigh a few times, but the idea of a nine-year-old in Mesogog’s lair terrified him. “If he did that, he could just ask for anything he wanted, and we’d have to give it.” Ethan would make sure they did.

Trent was still looking out the window. Conner tried again. “We’re Power Rangers. We’ve got to think about these things. It’s more important than just us.”

“Could we just go?”

Trent’s voice was harsh and unforgiving. Conner bit his lip, before reaching to turn the key in the ignition. “Fine.”

--

Back at the Dino Lab, Dr. O still looked mad. He questioned them about the attack, making caustic comments about memory not improving over time whenever Conner was unsure of an answer.

Trent stayed silent.

“What I don’t understand,” said Dr. O, “Is why you didn’t report it. You really just forgot?”

He directed that last question at Trent, who shook his head. “Conner remembered.”

Dr. O swung to face Conner, who reminded himself to thank Trent later. “Um, well . . .”

“I stopped him,” Trent interrupted.

Dr. O swung back to face Trent. Conner tried not to sigh in relief too loudly.

“I just didn’t want you to know,” said Trent. “I’m sorry.”

“But why?”

“Because . . .” Trent trailed off, looking away. “It sometimes feels like all I do is cause trouble for you guys. First by being evil, then with the clone, and causing trouble when I joined the team. And half the time, I can’t even come and fight with you because I’m keeping the cyberspace open for Hayley! And then this . . . I just felt . . . I don’t know. I just didn’t want to tell you.”

Conner gaped at him, unable to believe what he’d heard. Trent felt like that? Why hadn’t he said anything? “That’s crazy!” he said. “Dude, you’re like, a brilliant ranger! I mean, you’re stronger than the rest of us, and you’re a really good fighter, and it’s great that we have you as back-up. It means you can come when the rest of us are getting tired, and help us win. And—”

“Conner’s right,” said Dr. O, interrupting him. “Trent, I had no idea you felt like that. I would have said something if I did.”

“And,” said Conner, picking up where Dr. O had cut him off, “You say you can’t come and fight because you’re keeping the cyberspace open for Hayley, but that’s really important! It would probably have closed by now if it wasn’t for you. Or she’d have had to stop helping us, which would basically mean Mesogog destroying the world.”

“Yeah,” said Dr. O. “Trent, maybe it’s my fault for always telling you to stay behind in case another monster shows up. But you don’t realize how important that is. I don’t know how many times you’ve saved us all.”

Conner nodded vigorously, hoping Trent got the message. But at the same time, he remembered the growing feelings he had felt for the past few weeks—of not being good enough, of being more a problem than a help.

Maybe if they could get Trent a battilizer, it would help him feel better too.

Or maybe not, because he really wasn’t sure how to go about getting Trent one, or if it was even possible. Besides, the whole point was that he’d managed to get it himself.

“Anyway,” said Dr. O, “You should always report attacks—both of you—because even things that seem insignificant could be helpful in working out what Mesogog’s up to.”

Trent nodded. “Yeah. I will. I’m sorry for not, before.”

“Good. And you know you can always talk to either of us, right, Trent?”

“I do. I really am sorry. And thank you for everything you said.” But he didn’t look at Conner, which left Conner feeling strangely hurt.

Because even if what he said hadn’t helped, would it have killed Trent to at least acknowledge he’d tried?

As Trent still didn’t look at him, while Dr. O went on to confirm when he should next come for training, Conner figured he must be still mad. Which he had a right to be. Conner had broken a promise, even if it was a promise he never should have made in the first place.

“I will,” said Trent, to whatever Dr. O had been saying. “And thank you.”

“Do you want a lift back?”

Trent shook his head. “I like the walk. See you tomorrow.”

Conner moved to follow him as Trent headed out, but Dr. O caught his arm. “Talk to him tomorrow. Wait till he’s calmed down a bit.”

Conner scowled, tugging his arm free. “I just want to see if he’s alright!”

“Do it tomorrow. And you shouldn’t apologize. You were right to come and tell me.”

Maybe, but Conner couldn’t help but feel things might go a bit more smoothly if he did say sorry. “Yeah. And are you still mad at me?”

Dr. O rolled his eyes. “Find out at training tomorrow.”

--