Trent did walk back, taking the paths through the forest instead of going by road. He thought he might hit Conner if the other boy turned up now.

Why couldn’t Conner have just trusted him? He didn’t think Dr. O had gotten suspicious about Trent’s motives, thought he couldn’t be sure. What made him really angry was being forced into telling outright lies—and outright lies that had the intent to manipulate the emotions of two people he cared about so they didn’t question him more closely.

And the fact that he knew Conner was right. That just made him furious.

He almost stamped as he walked, torn between fury, guilt, and a rising feeling of just wanting to cry. He pushed it down, refusing to give in.

Sometimes, he just hated his life.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Conner had been right to tell Dr. O. Both of them should have reported the attack as soon as it happened. Dr. O was right to be mad they hadn’t.

And Trent was quite possibly wrong to keep the secret that his dad was Mesogog. He was definitely wrong to lie to Conner and Dr. O.

But what else could he do? His dad had made him promise, several times, to keep Mesogog’s true identity secret. And while Mesogog might be evil, Trent knew his dad wasn’t. And he knew his dad was working as hard as he could to destroy Mesogog. Maybe his dad shouldn’t mean as much as his duty as a Power Ranger. Maybe Trent should just break his promise.

But this was his dad. Not his biological dad, no: but most men would just have dumped the child they were left with after their colleagues were killed into an orphanage. Anton Mercer had taken Trent in, treated him like his own son. Yes, they sometimes argued, but . . .

That was normal. They loved each other.

And it might be wrong, but Trent would keep his promise to his dad instead of telling the other rangers what he knew he should.

He didn’t like to think of Conner’s reaction if he found out what Trent was hiding. He’d be furious. He’d feel like Trent had betrayed him—again. And it was betrayal, in a way. Conner had trusted him enough to confess his doubts about being a ranger. Trusted him enough to keep going out with him, and going through the identity crisis that involved.

How would he feel if he discovered Trent had been lying all this time?

Maybe Trent should just end it. Conner might be one of the few things in his life he felt uncomplicatedly happy about, but how long would that last if Trent started feeling guilty every time he thought of Conner?

Ending it might be the right thing to do.

--

Conner was waiting for him at school the next day, hovering around Trent’s locker in a way Trent guessed wasn’t supposed to be obvious. As soon as Trent appeared Conner zoomed towards him, looking hopeful and worried at once.

“Trent?” he asked. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

Conner, of course, didn’t take the hint. “Look, Trent, I’m sorry for breaking my promise to you. I was wrong to promise it in the first place, and . . . I’m sorry, okay?”

It almost gave Trent déjà vu: it didn’t feel that long ago that he’d been apologizing to Conner, while Conner did his best to ignore him. “I know you’re sorry. But, I just . . . I think that maybe we should stop spending so much time together.”

He didn’t look at Conner while he said it, concentrating on finding the books he needed from his locker instead.

“You . . . what? Look, Trent, I’m sorry, but . . . what was I supposed to do?” Conner sounded more frustrated than anything else. “Trent, you get that how you felt is stupid, right? And I get that you’re mad because I went to Dr. O—and maybe I should have told you first, but I kind of hoped I could avoid mentioning you—but . . . you’re just over-reacting.”

Oh, so it was over-reacting when he got angry and refused to talk, but when Conner did it that was absolutely fine? “Conner, just go away, okay?”

Conner’s sigh didn’t suggest he’d be listening to that anytime soon. “Trent, you’re being stupid.”

“You’re really not helping yourself, you know that?”

Conner sighed again, and bit his lip. “Do you still feel like you said?”

Trent tried not to wince, turning back to his locker. He did not want Conner feeling concerned about him—mainly because he’d lied, but also because it made it so much harder to stay mad. “Look, just forget it.”

“No.”

Trent slammed his locker shut, stepped around Conner, and headed down the hall as fast as he could. “Don’t follow me.”

A pause, before Conner called after him, “Don’t worry. I wasn’t planning to.”

He made it almost to the end of the hall before a sudden wave of dizziness hit him. He staggered, the floor seeming to tilt under him. His knees buckled, and fiery hot pain scorched over him, making it impossible to breath, impossible to think, impossible to do anything but bite back a scream.

What was happening?

“Trent! Trent, are you alright?”

He felt hands grip him under his arms, pulling him upright. His knees didn’t seem to be working properly, and he fell back against the person behind him, aware he was moaning under his breath at the fire burning his skin.

And then it ended. The dizziness and pain disappeared, his legs straightened, and he realized it was Conner holding him and frantically asking, “Trent, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling away and leaning against the lockers in case it happened again. “I’m fine.”

“Dude, you don’t look fine. I think we should go to the medical office, and see what the nurse says, because—”

“No!” He didn’t want to. He didn’t know what had been wrong with him, but some instinct told him it wasn’t something a school nurse could fix. “I’m fine. And I’m going to be late for class.”

So was Conner, but that didn’t stop him following Trent. He didn’t say anything, but neither did he leave until Trent had reached his classroom. “If it happens again, go to the medical office,” he said.

Trent nodded, too tired to argue. “Fine.”

--

“But he refused to go,” said Conner, stabbing a bit of lettuce with his fork. “Said he was fine!”

Kira, who had experience of how the school nurse treated those who weren’t male, handsome, athletic and charming, didn’t blame Trent one bit. Still, that didn’t mean she didn’t feel concerned. “What if it was just a headache? Like, a migraine or something? They can be really bad.”

“What if it’s something really serious? Like, cancer or something?”

“I kind of doubt that. If you ask me, it’s more likely something to do with you-know-what. After all, aren’t we supposed to be mostly protected from illnesses?”

Conner frowned, chewing slowly. “Do you think I should mention it to Dr. O?”

Kira tried not to wince at the suggestion. Yes, he probably should mention it. Even if it wasn’t related to their powers, what if it happened in the middle of the fight?

On the other hand, Trent was already mad at Conner for telling Dr. O something Trent didn’t want him to know. Though, to Kira, the whole thing sounded very strange . . .

“I don’t know,” she said. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know either. He might get mad at me again. If he’s stopped being mad from last time. Maybe I should ask him?”

Yeah. Kira could see that going so well. “Maybe I should. I could just say that you mentioned what happened, and suggest that he tells Dr. O. That way, if he gets mad at anyone, it’ll be me.”

“Yeah!” Conner looked enthusiastic at the idea of Trent getting angry at someone who wasn’t him. “That’d work. And, while you’re here, do you have any ideas about how I can make Trent feel like he’s a good ranger?”

Kira glanced at the song-writing notebook she’d gotten out before Conner had come to sit opposite her, then shoved it back into her bag with a sigh. She couldn’t see this conversation ending soon enough that she’d have a chance to work on those new lyrics before the end of lunch. “Conner, I have really no idea.”

“Well, I was thinking . . .”

--

“Trent!”

Conner broke into a jog as Trent looked round, catching up with the other boy at the top of the steps leading down into the school car park. “You want a lift back?”

“No, that’s alright.”

Neither he nor Kira had been able to come up with any workable ideas that could make Trent feel like he was a good ranger, but maybe Conner could do something to take his mind off it. “You want to do something?”

“I have to work.”

“Well, we could do something after that. See a movie? I’d even come to Bridget Jones.” Though he seriously hoped Trent would chose something else, because he’d die if anyone he knew saw him going into a film like that.

Trent just shook his head. “No, okay? I’m tired. I don’t want to do anything with you.”

Conner paused, staring at Trent and feeling suddenly concerned again. “You haven’t had another . . . well, I don’t know what happened earlier, but it hasn’t happened again, has it?”

“No!”

“Did Kira talk to you?”

“Should I be waiting for her?”

“Um . . .” Damn. He hadn’t thought what he’d say if Kira hadn’t. “Well, I was really worried, so I mentioned it to her, and she thought you should tell Dr. O.”

Trent stopped walking, spinning round to face Conner. “Couldn’t you for once have just not said anything? It was no big deal! Now, just, leave me alone, alright?”

Conner did, watching him walk away in the direction of the cyberspace.

But Trent’s anger didn’t put him off. Whatever was wrong with Trent, he was going to find out.

--