Ezra and Taylor were facing off. Taylor, with his two friends, was huge and tall and frightening. His henches were glowering down at Ezra. Hype men.

But Ezra's teeth gleamed as he grinned up at Taylor. "Then let's see something," he said.

"Tired of your crap," Taylor growled. "Think you're better."

"I'm better than you," Ezra said pleasantly. "But that's everyone else here too. All of us are better than you, Taylor." Those living glasses flexed.

It was like a painting, the two of them snarling at one another in front of the dome entrance. Other Humans and Gardeners were frozen, watching the big mean guy and the little skinny dude.

"Wormy," Taylor said. "Wormy. Always gotta be in charge."

"She said no, and you didn't listen to her." He looked each of Taylor's friends in the eye. "You two don't need him. I'd clear out."

I felt that someone, somewhere, should stop this. I realized that Sean's absence meant that person was me.

However.

Taylor stepped forward. It was interesting: he moved slowly, as if he wanted to telegraph his move while he was doing it. And I realized he didn't want to fight. His face wasn't belligerent. It was confused.

He slowly raised his hands to push Ezra's shoulder. Ezra took it, twisting with the push but not stepping back. The grin never left, and his eyes glittered. A mongoose facing a cobra.

Most alarming of all: a single tear slid down Ezra's cheek. He was crying. And smiling pleasantly. And utterly still.

Looking cool was off the table. This was real.

Taylor said: "Hnnn," and stepped back on his own. Red of face. Sweating. Something was wrong with him. "Hhhuh…" He was having trouble breathing.

Another tear, Ezra crying while smiling. "Want some?" he said to the henches.

Clearly they did not. They stepped away from Taylor.

I failed Art History in Mira Costa community college, so I'm an expert on this stuff. Everything was dramatically lit. Like in Caravaggio. Taylor was in his own private sunbeam, and he was standing there trying to breathe. He began clutching at his chest.

No, not his chest. His shirt. Because it was squeezing him, compressing his body. Ezra had made it a living thing. One that hated its wearer. Taylor squirmed in place, gasped. He scratched at it, trying to tear it, but it was alien Observatory cloth, tough and stretchy.

Ezra's fingers brushed a nearby black stone, one the Radio had used for its appearances now and then.

That stone was about the size of a washing machine. And it grew those silly legs, four of them like on that lighthouse, and stood like a baby elephant. It rotated in place, and though it had no face it was clearly looking around.

"You throw boulders," Ezra said. "Here's one."

The just-born boulder monster scraped the ground with one foot, like a cartoon bull before a charge. It was theatrical. A gesture to get Taylor on the same page.

It worked. Taylor's henches uncertainly faded away into the nearby jungle. Taylor himself gasped a long whooping breath. His face was crimson and damp. Confusion all over it.

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"You can breathe now," Ezra said graciously. "Can't run for your life from Wormy today if you can't breathe, Taylor."

The boulder-monster advanced on Taylor. It wasn't fast. Taylor, frowning in sweaty perplexity, backed up. The monster followed.

"Made me cry, Taylor." Ezra said. "Made her cry too. Brag about making us cry. Call me Wormy again, I need to hear that."

Taylor walked backwards, the rock monster strolling along after him. Eventually Taylor turned and kept walking at higher speed. He didn't look back. The boulder thing kept pace. The two of them slowly left the clearing. It looked like they were friends, or the boulder was Taylor's pet. But Taylor kept going.

Nobody died. Nothing charged and trampled anyone. It was all quite orderly.

Ezra was crying silent tears. He wiped them away bitterly. "Why?" He said. "Always."

"Yeah, always. And I don't know why," I said. "Who was he bothering?"

He sniffed mightily. "Elanor."

"The Goat Fetus girl who high-fived me after soloing a mini-drone? Good lord, you saved Taylor's life, chingon."

He nodded. "I had to talk her out of it. He…he wrecked her guitar. He almost died. I don't want to make trouble for you. I'm sorry."

"No trouble for Team Radio DJ," I said. "Where'd she get a guitar?"

"Art made it for her. I'm on drums. For the thing tonight, you know?"

"Oh. We have a live band?"

He looked up at me, eyes shining. Maybe from shed tears, maybe not. "What did you think would happen? You invited everyone."

I went to the dome. Cassie was in there, glaring at me. "Taylor from Monster School messed with my music section!"

"I know, I think it was dealt with."

"He was moping around in here earlier. I think he wanted to apologize, to be fair. That guy's got problems. But it's my movie! He interfered with my production!"

"Ugh," I said, passing a hand through my hair, clutching my very small, vacant skull. "How did Sean deal with all this?"

"No idea. He always looked like he was on the verge of tears to me."

"Humans. What do I do with Taylor? I think he remembers being a big deal. And now anyone here can murder him if he indulges in bullying. And bullying is his life's work."

Her lip curled in derision. "No sympathy. He used to be a sex pest and a violent idiot. He's got to shape up or…" She frowned. "He could die, couldn't he."

"At the very least."

She looked at me sympathetically. Then rubbed her hands together. "Welp, gotta go, good luck with that."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Thanks a lot."

The Radio breathlessly broke in. "The Undine's Human form had fully healed," it said.

"Oh, that's nice," Cassie said casually. She slid a sidelong glance at me. "That's nice, isn't it? Heh heh. How do you know, Radio?"

"Cassiedor was startled to realize that Mandy Nakahara was currently running naked through the Observatory halls."

And I heard her distant voice up there: "Where is he? OWEN!"

Cassie wore a very interesting expression. She was trying not to laugh, failing, and also trying to look stern. "Okay, this won't do. There are procedures, people."

The Radio boomed loudly. "Mandy knew that the shirtless Owen Walsh was down on the dome floor, with his lovely broad shoulders and nipples like chocolate drops."

"Aw HELL yeah!" Mandy shouted, getting closer.

"Nope," Cassie said, pushing me back. I realized I'd been hypnotically advancing towards that distant voice. "Easy, tiger. We're going to do this right."

She called a meeting. Neither Mandy nor I were invited. Kept apart by cruel fate!

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