Zoey took a step closer. She was a full foot shorter than him. She had to crane her neck to look at his stubbled jaw. “Here’s the deal, old man. I fix the dimensional shifter. I stop the fog from eating your ticket printer. And I don’t post the video of you singing 80s power ballads to the Galaga machine.”

Kael sighed. The sparking in his arm dimmed. He ran his flesh hand over his face. “Fine, Brat. Fix the shifter. Keep the core. But if you break my arcade…”

She turned her back on him, which was the bravest thing she’d do all night. She pulled the gravity core from her pocket. It pulsed warmly against her palm. She looked into her phone camera, winked, and blew a kiss.

Zoey hopped off the machine, landing silently on her boots. She pocketed the core. Her reflection in the dark screen of a Dance Dance Revolution cabinet showed a girl with lavender-dyed pigtails, a smirk made of cherry lip gloss, and the calm eyes of a saboteur.

“Calm down, babies,” Zoey said, grinning. “I meant to do that.”