Natalie didn’t fight fair as she hit me with a hard jab to the gut, following it up with a right cross, then finishing me off with a haymaker. All from twenty feet away.
I landed flat on my back staring up at the blue sky. The cloud was comfy, but that wasn’t why I didn’t get up. I was embarrassed. Not because I had been beaten by a girl—April Sanders had disabused me of that idea back in fifth grade. I was embarrassed because I still didn’t know anything about being a Storm Rider. Every other week there was yet another trick I didn’t know about. Some new thing I had to try and learn and master.
I had a knack for lightning, but Natalie blew me away—literally—when it came to the wind.
Natalie’s smug face loomed above me, now. “That’s a TKO, Reilly. You’re buying dinner tonight. Just so you know, I’m craving something French and upscale. I know a couple of great places in Winnipeg.
“Canada,” I groaned. “You sure you wouldn’t something French Cajun or French Creole.”
“No. French and upscale. I desire the best tonight.”
I groaned again. Being a Storm Rider brought a lot of perks, such as being able to ride lightning from Des Moines to Winnipeg in under five minutes, but a stable income wasn’t one of them. I was already pinching my pennies this month.
I need to start trading stocks on the side like Wally.