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habit, I guessed; I didn’t think he even realized he was doing it.
    “I’ve spoken to your mother,” Guro continued calmly, and my stomach twisted. “I’ve asked her to keep me updated on your progress at school. She’s worried about you, and I can’t say I like what I’ve heard.” The whirling stick paused for a moment, and he looked directly at me. “I do not teach kali for violence, Ethan. If I hear you’ve been in any more fights, or that your grades are slipping, I’ll know you need to concentrate more on school than kali practice. You’ll be out of the demonstration, is that clear?”
    I sucked in a breath. Great. Thanks a lot, Mom . “Yes, Guro.”
    He nodded. “You’re a good student, Ethan. I want you to succeed in other places, too, yes? Kali isn’t everything.”
    “I know, Guro.”
    The stick started its twirling pattern again, and Guro nodded in dismissal. “Then I’ll see you on Saturday. Remember, thirty minutes early, at least!”
    I bowed and retreated to the locker room.
    My phone blinked when I pulled it out, indicating a new message, though I didn’t recognize the number. Puzzled, I checked voice mail and was greeted by a familiar, overly cheerful voice.
    “Hey, tough-guy, don’t forget you owe me an interview. Call me tonight, you know, when you’re done robbing banks and stealing cars. Talk to you later!”
    I groaned. I’d forgotten about her. Stuffing the phone into my bag, I slung it over my shoulder and was about to leave when the lights flickered and went out.
    Oh, nice. Probably Redding, trying to scare me again. Rolling my eyes, I waited, listening for footsteps and snickering laughter. Chris Redding, my sparring partner, fancied himself a practical joker and liked to target people who kicked his ass in practice. Usually, that meant me.
    I held my breath, remaining motionless and alert. As the silence stretched on, annoyance turned to unease. The light switch was next to the door—I could see it through a gap in the aisles, and there was no one standing there. I was in the locker room alone.
    Carefully, I eased my bag off my shoulder, unzipped it and drew out a rattan stick, just in case. Edging forward, stick held out in front of me, I peered around the locker row. I was not in the mood for this. If Redding was going jump out and yell “rah,” he was going to get a stick upside the head, and I’d apologize later.
    There was a soft buzz, somewhere overhead. I looked up just as something tiny half fell, half fluttered from the ceiling, right at my face. I leaped back, and it flopped to the floor, twitching like a dazed bird.
    I edged close, ready to smack it if it lunged up at me again. The thing stirred weakly where it lay on the cement, looking like a giant wasp or a winged spider. From what I could tell, it was green and long-limbed with two transparent wings crumpled over its back. I stepped forward and nudged it with the end of the stick. It batted feebly at the rattanwith a long, thin arm.
    A piskie? What’s it doing here? As fey went, piskies were usually pretty harmless, though they could play nasty tricks if insulted or bored. And, tiny or no, they were still fey. I was tempted to flick this one under the bench like a dead spider and continue on to my truck, when it raised its face from the floor and stared up at me with huge, terrified eyes.
    It was Thistle, Todd’s friend. At least, I thought it was the same faery; all piskies looked pretty much the same to me. But I thought I recognized the sharp pointed face, the puff of yellow dandelion hair. Its mouth moved, gaping wide, and its wings buzzed faintly, but it seemed too weak to get up.
    Frowning, I crouched down to see it better, still keeping my rattan out in case it was just faking. “How did you get in here?” I muttered, prodding it gently with the stick. It swatted at the end but didn’t move from the floor. “Were you following me?”
    It gave a garbled buzz and collapsed, apparently exhausted,