Conner didn’t like crying, but he was starting to feel very tempted. At least then he’d know things couldn’t get any worse. He felt like everything was building up inside of him— Dr. O, Trent, the white ranger, Mesogog . . . and it was just getting too much to handle.

Was there some sort of law that said everything had to happen at once? A new enemy they had no idea how to defeat, an old enemy still making trouble, and now Dr. O couldn’t help them. That was maybe the hardest thing to handle. Conner was used to Dr. O being there, knowing what to do and say. He’d always made it seem like they could cope, whatever happened.

Well, now he’d been fossilized, and Conner didn’t think he could cope.

He’d never faced anything like the white ranger before. If that was how Mesogog’s goons felt against the rangers, Conner almost felt sorry for them.

Actually, no. Even tyrannodrones normally got in a few hits. Conner doubted he could have bruised the white ranger’s fist with his face. He didn’t even know if the white ranger was human enough to get things like bruises.

Conner had been in tough fights before. He’d lost fights before, plenty of them. As Dr O kept telling them, part of being a ranger was never giving up, even if you did lose a battle. You just had to win the next, and Conner always had.

But the white ranger hadn’t just defeated him. He’d crushed Conner, and made it look effortless. The only way he could’ve made it more humiliating was by picking Conner up and spanking him. If he had wanted to, Conner wouldn’t have been able to stop him.

He’d gotten in about two hits by accessing the ‘Super Dino Powers’, or whatever Hayley called them. He’d lost count of the number of times the white ranger had knocked him to the ground. And then there came the fact that the only time Conner had knocked the white ranger down, the white ranger had tricked him.

Conner could still remember those moments, when he’d believed he’d killed another human being. He’d run to the white ranger, praying for him to still be alive, tried his best to help . . . the deception still stung. Whatever people said, Conner had never believed himself stupid or gullible before. Now he felt both. Weak.

He wouldn’t be again. He promised himself he’d remember, make himself stronger, so that in the future, he’d never let himself be betrayed again. He’d remember evil couldn’t be trusted. Ever.

The fight hadn’t ended any better than it started. If anything, it had gotten worse. He remembered the moment of hopelessness when he’d looked up and seen Mesogog and Zeltrax standing watching. In that moment, he’d known he’d lost. That unless the others arrived in a dramatic rescue, he was as good as dead.

Didn’t stop him from feeling ashamed. He was supposed to be a Power Ranger, defiant till the end. Yet when Mesogog had ordered him to be quiet, Conner had obeyed.

He tried to justify it to himself: enemies had surrounded him. He’d learned valuable information— the white ranger didn’t know Mesogog and didn’t want to join him.

But when he’d been lying there, on the ground while they stood over him, information gathering had been the last thing on his mind. He’d been scared. Scared of being hurt again, when every part of his body already screamed. Scared of being attacked again, when he felt about as able to defend himself as a rag doll.

They’d all left. Any of them could have killed him but they’d just left him lying there like he wasn’t important enough for them to bother with.

Even that reason was easier to stomach than what Mesogog had said. The white ranger was fascinated with him? The idea made him feel sick. Another fight like that and he’d be in hospital. His mum was freaking out already. Even he couldn’t use soccer to explain away that many bruises.

And then there was Trent. The cherry of worry on top of the cake of fear. He’d looked so sick, sweating and pale. His dad should have been keeping him home, or in hospital. Not letting him wander round soccer pitches.

Conner had tried to help, though he’d had about as much success with that as he had had defeating the white ranger: none. Trent had pushed him away—like he didn’t want Conner touching him, or even near him—and run off. Conner regretted stopping to change. Caring about how he looked seemed stupid in hindsight.

Conner rolled over to watch the minutes tick past on his clock, wincing when a scrape on his shoulder rubbed against the sheets. Tomorrow, he’d start hunting for the white ranger.

And he’d talk to Trent.

--

“Trent!” Finally! Conner pushed through the crowded hall, catching up to Trent and grabbing him by the arm. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Trent glanced around the busy hall. Conner could almost see him considering escape routes.

“Please,” he said. “It won’t take long. Well, it might, but . . .” He paused, remembering his vow not to say or do anything stupid. “Um . . . it won’t take long.”

Trent still tried to pull away. “Could we do this later? I need to . . .”

“No.” Conner kept his grip, maneuvering Trent over to stand by a row of lockers. “I want to talk now.”

“Conner, no!” Trent made another attempt at getting away, managing to pull Conner off-balance. A few people stopped to stare as he stumbled, tripping over his own feet and falling into Trent. Trent caught him with a grunt, blushing slightly.

Conner tried not to think about the fact that he was close to Trent. Very close to Trent. Close enough to feel the heat of his body, see the tiny spot developing on his top lip, feel . . .

Trent took a step back, pushing Conner upright. Conner attempted to look unaffected, remembering his vow involving stupid things—which would include falling over.

Too late, he realized he’d let go of Trent.

“Look,” said the other boy, backing away. “Conner, I will talk to you, just . . . not now, okay? Later.”

Conner frowned, trying to remember how many times Trent had brushed him off now. “You don’t have to keep saying that,” he muttered. “If you don’t want to talk, say so. I just thought . . .” he cut himself off, realizing how pathetic what he’d been about to say would sound.

Trent guessed anyway. “You thought I liked you?” Conner felt himself blush—said like that, it sounded so much worse than in his head—but Trent ignored him. “I do. Honest. And I do want to talk to you, it’s just that now is not a good time. You’ve got no idea what’s going on in my life at the moment. Hell, I’ve got no idea what’s going on.”

“Maybe I can help!”

Trent shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me.” It couldn’t be stranger than being a Power Ranger.

Trent just laughed. “I got your messages yesterday. I’m fine, thanks. I’m sorry I ran off like that.”

Conner could recognize a change of subject when he heard one. “I was worried about you,” he said defensively. “I didn’t leave that many.” Six or seven wasn’t excessive, was it? “You still don’t look very well.” But much better than yesterday.

“I’m fine,” Trent repeated. “And, look, give me your number so I can call you. We’ll meet at Hayley’s some time.”

He pulled out a scrap of paper and a pen, watching Conner expectantly. Conner blushed, and then realized he’d forgotten his own phone number. “Um, hang on a minute . . .”

Trent waited until he’d found it, writing it down and tucking the scrap of paper inside his pocket. “I already have yours,” said Conner. “I got it off Kira.” Well, he’d stolen her phone and found it himself, but he couldn’t have asked her something like that.

Trent smiled. “I guessed that, thanks. I’ll call you, I promise.”

Conner watched Trent leave, feeling ridiculously happy. Suddenly, the previous day seemed very long ago. Who cared if Dr. O was a fossil, the white ranger was undefeatable and Conner was a failure as a ranger?

Trent was going to call him, they were going to meet up, and maybe Conner could finally sort out what was going on.