"Oh no," I whispered. We were going to get jumped by drunk rich kids. Just great. Exactly what I needed to top off my Thursday morning. Or... New Years Eve.

"Run," Ritchie said. He didn't have to tell me twice. I felt another click in my gut when the car pulled up and a bunch of guys smoking flashed into my vision.

We sprinted down the road, almost at the same pace. In response, the car sped up. Ritchie dropped his cigarette. Before I knew it, two guys jumped out and ran towards us. Two more stayed in the moving car.

It went on like this for a few minutes until the rich kids caught up to us. One grabbed me, and the others threw Ritchie to the ground.

"Hey, grease," one teased. I could actually hear how drunk he was. I don't even know how he ran that long without falling flat on his face.

The guy holding me smelled awful, and I had to fight back bile. The other three surrounded Ritchie, who was still on the ground.

I didn't know what they had, or what they'd do, but I decided to wait before I beat the crap out of them; I'd been in a similar situation before (let's just say four idiots were laying on the ground, surrounded by fellow drug-addicts).

"What are you doin' in our territory, grease?" one asked, getting very close to Ritchie's face.

"Gee, I don't know. Say, Horatio, is your name actually carved into the sidewalk?" I asked. Not my best, but at least I got their attention away from Ritchie.

He could not die. I knew everything would reset, but if he died, I wasn't exactly sure what would happen - if somebody died, it might not reset like it's supposed to.

"Control your girl," a different one spat.

Ritchie sighed, "I would if I wasn't pinned to the ground." The kid kicked Ritchie in the ribs.

"This shouldn't hurt too much," the last one said, pulling out a switchblade. Oh, just great, I thought. When he actually held the knife to Ritchie's throat, I decided it was the right time.

I kicked the guy holding me in the worst place, then, kicked the one with the knife in the back of the knee.

"Hey!" the kid with the switchblade yelled. Ritchie jumped up and knocked him one in the head as the other two swarmed me. One left me and knocked Ritchie in head. The one I kicked earlier got up and grabbed me. Back to where we started.

Except the weight of the knife was on me and two were holding me instead of the one. Ritchie was yelling something, but I heard nothing. I was concentrating on the kniFE BEING HELD TO MY THROAT.

When I felt the cut, I yelled.

"STOP!"

And everything did. Nobody moved. They didn't even breathe. There was no wind, no noise, no nothing. Did I just stop time? That would be the obvious thing. I can travel through time; why shouldn't I be able to stop it?

I grabbed the knife from the guy in front of me, and knocked everybody else down.

Then, I grabbed Ritchie. He did nothing, and I realized that I'd have to drag him far enough away to where they wouldn't catch us. He was in the same position he was when I yelled.

Maybe I could unfreeze him?

He was leaning forward, mouth wide open, mid-scream. His arms were out in front of him, looking frantic even when not in motion.

Sure enough, when I unfroze him, he fell straight forward.

He rolled over immediately after he fell, only to find me standing above him. "Claire? What? What's going on?" he asked, eyes wild and frantic.

It occurred to me then that dragging him far away would've made more sense.

I said nothing, so he sat up and looked around at all the kids lying on the ground in odd positions. "You're dreaming?" I tried.

"I don't dream," he said, standing up. In front of him was a leaf frozen in mid-air. He touched it. It didn't move.

"Claire, what is going on?"

"I froze time?" I shrugged.

"I'm serious," he stated.

"I am too," I replied.

"You're impossible."

"I'm also telling the truth."

"Prove it, then."

"Come with me and I will."

He seemed to notice the knife I was holding right at that second. "Okay," he said, leery.

I handed him the knife, "Hold this." He seemed to ease up a bit knowing that he had the weapon. I lead him a ways away from the richer kids, but not far enough to where we couldn't see them. "I'm going to unfreeze time now, just like I unfroze you."

I thought, and time listened. The breeze picked back up, the debris hit the ground, and the rich kids sat up, completely confused. "Where'd they go?" one asked. The others shrugged.

"They took my knife," one said. They all stood up and walked farther into rich kid territory, grumbling.

Ritchie went wide-eyed. A plethora of emotions adorned his face: confusion, fear, and finally freezing with anger.

"I'm guessing a hotel isn't a option now," I said.

"No, it's not," he snapped. "Come with me." I was confused and wishing I had that knife back. "I don't know what you are," he said, "but I'm intending to find out."