Skip to go bully hunting

"If we skip classes, where would we go?” James asked, still a little breathless from the way Penelope had been holding him.

Smiling, Penelope leaned down and planted a quick, playful smooch on his lips. “I am so glad you asked,” she said, her voice low and warm with that familiar teasing drawl. She gave his hand a gentle tug and started walking.

James fell into step beside her as they pushed through the double doors and stepped out into the bright morning sunlight. The hallway noise faded behind them. Penelope’s long, confident strides carried her across the mostly empty courtyard, her combat boots thudding softly on the pavement. James had to quicken his pace to keep up, their fingers still laced together.

A few students cut across the grass in the distance, but no one paid them any attention. The old school building loomed ahead at the far edge of campus, its faded brick walls and dark windows looking almost abandoned in the daylight.

“Where are we going?” James asked as they walked, glancing up at her. Even in her combat boots she was noticeably taller than him, and something fluttered in his chest at the confident, unhurried way she moved, like she owned every step.

“An old haunt of that piece of shit Drake,” Penelope said, smirking. “Several of his ‘buddies’ hang out there skipping their own classes. Figured we could pay them a little visit.”

James’s steps faltered. “Isn’t that… dangerous for us?”

Penelope glanced down at him, still smirking, and shook her head like the idea was adorable. “I plan to kick the ass of each and every one of those bullies,” she stated, matter-of-fact, like she was talking about what they were having for lunch.

James blinked. Then the realization hit him like a cold splash of water.

They were going bully hunting.

He looked up at her again and felt a strange mix of nerves and something warmer, almost excited. Penelope wasn’t just tough now. She was predatory in the best way, and every ounce of that new confidence was pointed like a weapon at the people who used to make his life hell.

She squeezed his hand gently, thumb brushing over his knuckles.

“Relax, James,” she said, voice softening just a touch. “I’ve got you. And I’ve got plans for anyone who ever laid a hand on you.”

The old building loomed ahead, its windows dark, the air around it quieter than the rest of campus. Penelope’s smirk deepened as they approached the side door.

“Ready to watch me have some fun?” she asked, giving his hand another squeeze.

James swallowed, heart pounding, but he didn’t let go.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I think I am.”

The side door creaked open under Penelope’s hand. Cool, dusty air rushed out to meet them. Dim light leaked through the grimy windows, painting long shadows across the empty hallway. At the far end, three boys lounged against the lockers, laughing and passing a phone between them.

Penelope let go of James’s hand.

“Watch this,” she said.

She rolled her shoulders once, then pulled something metallic from her jacket pocket. Brass knuckles. They slid over her fingers with a soft metallic click as she flexed her hand. Her boots echoed on the tile as she walked toward the group, each step slow and deliberate.

The boys looked up. Recognition flashed across their faces at the same time.

“Hello, boys,” Penelope said, her voice sweet and bright.

Then she moved.

The first boy, a lanky kid with a buzz cut, barely had time to flinch before her fist drove straight into his stomach. The brass knuckles connected with a heavy thud. Air exploded out of him. He folded forward, knees buckling, and dropped to the floor gasping.

“Kyle,” Penelope said calmly, already turning. “Yesterday you shoved Tyler’s head in the toilet and flushed. Twice. He went home shaking so hard he couldn’t even speak.”

The second boy tried to run. Penelope caught the back of his shirt and yanked him backward like he weighed nothing. Her knee slammed into his ribs with a sharp crack. He dropped hard, clutching his side and wheezing.

“And you, Marcus,” she continued, stepping over him. “You beat up that freshman in the stairwell for his lunch money. Then you took his phone and made him beg for it on camera.”

The third boy, bigger than the others with a patchy beard, actually swung at her. Penelope caught his fist mid-air. She twisted his arm behind his back in one smooth motion and shoved him face-first into the lockers. The metal doors rattled loudly. Before he could recover, she drove two solid punches into his side. He crumpled to the ground with a pained groan.

“Ryan,” she said, breathing only slightly harder. “You stole forty bucks from Sarah’s backpack during gym. Then you told everyone she was lying when she cried about it.”

All three boys lay on the floor now, groaning and curled up. Penelope stood over them for a moment, brass knuckles still on, her chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. Then she turned and walked straight back to James without another word.

The brass knuckles came off with a soft click. She stopped right in front of him, leaned down close, and whispered so only he could hear.

“You should do to them what you did to Drake. They’re worse than he ever was. They’re the ones who taught him how to bully in the first place.”

James’s eyes widened. He looked past her at the three broken boys on the floor, then back at Penelope. Her face was calm. Serious. Waiting.

The Reality Stone felt suddenly very heavy in his pocket.

Penelope leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear.

“Make them like me,” she suggested softly, “or make them normal, well-adjusted people. But they’re far worse than Drake ever was.”

She urged him gently, her eyes steady and serious as they met his. James stared back at her, heart pounding, the Reality Stone suddenly feeling very heavy in his pocket.