Chapter 3 : Fleeing Bully Dash! Olympics
3:30 PM, Culver City High
The school bell’s clang still echoed in Jace’s ears. It signalled closing time. Every student packed their bags and books as they prepared to leave, and the hallways became noisy and rowdy.
Jace moved through the crowd of students, looking for one person.
"Leo!" Jace called as he spotted him. "Mind if I walk with you?"
Leo nodded in agreement, and the two of them slowly made their way out of the school's doors as the crowd began to diminish. Leo shuffled beside him as they walked towards the bus stop, his backpack bumping against his leg with each hesitant step. He kept glancing at Jace from the corner of his eye, a mix of gratitude and something else… awe?
It was a look Jace wasn't used to. Usually, people just saw him as… Jace. Average height, perpetually messy brown hair, the guy who always sat at the back of class and doodled in his notebooks. Not exactly hero material.
“Thanks again, Jace,” Leo mumbled, finally breaking the silence. His voice was still a little shaky. “Seriously. For… you know.”
Jace shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It was nothing, man. Tank’s just… Tank.” He tried to sound nonchalant, but a small thrill of pride flickered inside him. He had stood up to Tank. Without even flexing a muscle.
“Nothing?” Leo’s eyes widened behind his thick glasses. “Dude, nobody ever stands up to Tank. He’s like… a brick wall with anger issues.”
A small smile tugged at Jace’s lips. “He’s just a bully, Leo. They only have power if you let them.” It sounded like something out of a cheesy action movie, but he meant it. He’d felt a surge of something real when he’d faced Tank down, not just anger, but a… resolve.
“Easy for you to say,” Leo sighed, then quickly added, “No offense! It’s just… you were really brave.”
“Nah,” Jace waved his hand in a dismissal motion, kicking a loose pebble down the road. “Just… tired of seeing him pick on people.”
They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments. A robin chirped loudly from a bare tree branch overhead. The air smelled faintly of exhaust fumes and damp earth.
“So…” Leo started again, a little more confidently this time. “Thanks for letting me copy your notes in class. Mr. Harrison is brutal when it comes to dictating notes.”
Jace chuckled. “Yeah, Harrison’s something else. Did you understand that whole thing about the Culver City founders, though? I still get them mixed up.”
Leo frowned, adjusting his glasses. “Culver City history… it’s a lot. Everything’s new to me here, you know? We just moved here last month.”
“Oh, right,” Jace said, remembering vaguely that Leo was the new kid. “How’s Culver City treating you so far? Besides the Tank incident, I mean.”
Leo shrugged, then considered. “It’s… bigger than where I used to live. More people. School’s… well, school’s school, right? But… it’s okay. People are… okay.” He trailed off, then looked around at the street, lined with houses starting to show their age, but with gardens bravely pushing through early spring. “It’s… different. Kind of… livelier, I guess?”
Jace nodded, understanding. Culver City was a lot, especially if you weren't used to it. “Yeah, it can be. But there’s good stuff too. You been downtown yet? The waterfront’s pretty cool.”
“Waterfront?” Leo’s eyes lit up a little. “No, not yet. I’ve mostly just been going between home and school.”
“We should check it out sometime,” Jace said, surprising himself a little with the invitation. “They have this amazing ice cream place down there. ‘Chill Box’ – you gotta try it.”
Before Leo could answer, a heavier set of footsteps sounded behind them, breaking the fragile ease that had settled between them.
Jace tensed, his senses sharpening. His head snapped around.
Tank, Marc, and Diaz were closing in fast.
Anger flared in Jace, but he fought it down.
Control. Secret.
Leo gasped beside him, seeing them too.
“Well, well, well,” Tank’s voice boomed as they blocked the sidewalk. “Look what we have here,” Tank drawled, his gaze flicking between Jace and Leo, lingering on Leo with a predatory gleam. “Little Leo, and his… protector.”
He spat the last word like a curse.
“We don’t want any trouble, Tank,” Jace said, trying to keep his voice even and firm. He stepped slightly in front of Leo. “Just leave us alone.”
Tank let out a harsh laugh. “Leave you alone? After you embarrassed me in front of the whole school? Nah, Jace. That ain’t how it works.”
He took a step closer, his breath smelling of stale pizza and something vaguely metallic.
“You think you’re tough now, huh? Standing up to me like that?”
Jace held his ground, meeting Tank’s gaze. “I just stood up for what’s right.”
“Right?” Tank scoffed, gesturing to Marc and Diaz with a jerk of his head. “Let me show you what’s ‘right’ in this school, tough guy.”
Marc lunged, throwing a clumsy punch.
Jace ducked.
Diaz kicked. Jace hopped back, his balance wavering. Diaz cracked his knuckles, and he and Marc pressed their attack, wild punches and kicks. Jace weaved, dodged, and deflected Marc’s blows, all while trying his best not to use any of his strength.
Leo stood frozen, terrified.
Outnumbered, outmatched, Jace knew fighting was a mistake.
Protect Leo. Protect his secret.
He had to run.
“Run, Leo!” Jace yelled, pulling Leo with him.
Before anger took over, before he used his strength, Jace turned and sprinted. Jace ran, yanking Leo with him, their bus stop plan abandoned.
"Waterfront!" he yelled, glancing back. Tank and his crew were still chasing. "Faster, Leo!"
"Waterfront? Bus stop!" Leo wheezed, stumbling.
"The bus stop's out!" Jace shouted. "The waterfront's busier!"
He pulled Leo down a side street towards downtown. They pounded the pavement, city sounds rising around them. Tank's heavy footsteps seemed to fade slightly.
"Alley!" Jace yelled, diving into a narrow passage between shops and dragging Leo after him.
Boxes and bins cluttered the dim space.
"Gonna be sick," Leo gasped, bending over.
Jace stopped, concerned. "Leo! Okay?"
Leo straightened, pale but grinning weakly. "Out of shape… track practice," he wheezed, then chuckled. "Fleeing bullies… new sport?"
Jace stared at him for a moment before a laugh escaped.
"Fleeing Bully Dash! Olympics!" He pulled Leo onward, a grin spreading across his face despite the chase. "We're pioneers!"
Leo laughed too, breathless. "Gold medal… for retreat!"
"Exactly! And… commentary during escape!" Jace grinned, adrenaline and laughter mixing.
They were still running, still scared, but the shared absurdity had shifted something between them. The fear hadn't disappeared, but laughing about it made the situation feel a little less overwhelming.
They were the 'Fleeing Falcons', escaping together towards the waterfront… and Chill Box ice cream.
Maybe they’d actually make it.
They burst out of the alley and onto a wider street, blinking in the sudden sunlight. Ahead, Jace could see it: the glint of water, the masts of sailboats bobbing in the harbor.
The waterfront.
And, blessedly, people.
Lots of them.
Tourists, locals, street vendors, the usual Friday afternoon bustle.
“We made it!” Jace gasped, finally slowing to a jog, then a walk.
Leo stumbled beside him, practically collapsing against a lamppost, wheezing like a punctured lung.
“Made it…” Leo echoed, sliding down to sit on the base of the lamppost. “Pretty sure… lungs… stayed back… in alley.”
Jace leaned against the lamppost next to him, chest heaving, grinning.
“Nah, lungs are here. Just… slightly relocated. Temporary lung vacation.”
He scanned the crowd. No sign of Tank and his goons.
“Think we lost them?”
Leo peered back the way they’d come, then sagged with relief.
“Please… please let them be… defeated by… alleyway garbage.”
“Agreed,” Jace chuckled. “Garbage: 1, Bullies: 0. Official score.”
He pulled out his phone and checked the time.
“Ice cream time?”
Leo’s eyes actually widened, despite his exhaustion.
“Ice cream? Seriously?”
"Seriously,” Jace nodded, pointing across the street. “Chill Box. Best in Culver City. Fleeing Falcon victory celebration. My treat. Consider it… an apology for the near-death experience.”
Leo managed a weak but genuine smile.
“Apology accepted. Lead the way, Captain Falcon. To… sugary freedom!”
They limped across the street, a pair of slightly battered, definitely breathless, but undeniably grinning heroes of their own ridiculous chase.
The bright, cheerful lights of Chill Box beckoned, promising sweet, cold relief and the perfect end to a very, very eventful walk home.