Learning to Dance

information diamond in his pocket.
Up took careful aim and threw Taz’s knife.
It sunk deep into the back of the man’s thigh, as Up had
meant it to, and he stumbled and fell to the ground with a
cry as the doors of the ballroom swung open. A crowd of
astounded ambassadors had gathered, looking at shock at
the scene on the balcony.
The blasting stopped, and Up looked at Taz. “No more
juice,” she said, shaking the useless zappers and dropping
them to the ground. She had managed to take out all of the
dark-clad henchmen, who now lay motionless on the
ground.
“Were those set to stun?” he asked. “They may be
traitors, but they’re still human.”
“No sé, they’re your zappers, Up.”
As they turned to him, the sandy-haired man, clutching
his leg, scrabbled upright and grabbed the nearest
partygoer.
“Like, ew, don’t touch me!”
It was February, it had to be February. The traitor pulled
a zapper from his own pocket and pressed it into her neck.
“I get through, the girl doesn’t get hurt.”
The teenager’s frightened eyes looked from Up to Taz.
He didn’t know what to do. They had no weapons left. But
they couldn’t let him get away with the information
diamond.
“Phillipa, girlfriend,” said February shakily, as the
zapper pressed farther still into the side of her neck. “Three
and a quarter inches is totally deadly, right?”
This meant absolutely nothing to Up, but understanding
dawned on Taz’s face. Before anyone could move, she bent
and tugged a shiny black stiletto from her foot.
The traitor never saw it coming.