Star Wars fan fiction
introduction and preview
Only For A Season
Chapter 1: Desert Visitor
Chapter 2: Game of Marbles
Chapter 3: Stargazer
Chapter 4: Dewbacks and Darklighter
Chapter 5: Skyhopper
Chapter 6: Beggar’s Canyon
Chapter 7: Boonta Eve
Chapter 8: Sunstealer
Chapter 9: The Stone Needle
Chapter 10: Shifting Sands
Chapter 11: A New Season
Chapter 12: Japor Strands
Chapter 13: Farmer’s Holiday
Chapter 14: Starkiller
Chapter 15: Setting Suns
Chapter 16: Seeds of Rebellion
Only For A Season
It was mid-day at Tosche Station, the time of day on Tatooine when local shopkeepers closed down and farmers and merchants alike retreated indoors and underground to escape from the worst of the day’s oppressive heat. The daily exodus gave the streets a lonely, deserted feel. The only populated stretch of storefront was found in front of the power station at the edge of Tosche Station, not that they were doing that big of a business in power converters and the like. The shop had become a hang out for local teens and it stood surrounded by landspeeders and speederbikes whose owners had come out from Anchorhead or in from the surrounding moisture farms to race one another in the deserted streets. A few skyhoppers also stood nearby. There were only a few because it was an unwritten rule that if you brought your skyhopper into Tosche Station this time day then you came to race, and most of the locals had either tried their luck at Beggar’s Canyon and failed or they chose to save their hoppers for real racing – not brush races with nothing but bragging rights at stake. But a crowd had gathered all the same to listen to the defending champ whose bragging rights were on display.
Of the three skyhoppers parked outside the power shop only one owner was still out front, half buried from sight in the engine compartment, hard at work on his T-16. The lanky thirteen year old wedged himself out from the space he’d spent the last half hour wedging into, finally satisfied that the part he’d bartered from Fixer a short time ago was secured and working properly. He turned to stow his tools in the storage compartment then buried his face in the crook of his forearm to wipe off the sweat. The day’s unbearable heat was made even worse by the heat of the engine and the suns beating off the skyhopper’s reflective metal. He closed the engine compartment, shaking his hand where the metal stung his fingers, and straightened himself to full height.
Despite the fact that another growth spurt seemed to kick in on a near weekly basis he was still shorter than the others his age, thin in a lanky, rangy sort of way, like the rest of his body was waiting to grow into the new height. His blond hair shone bright under the suns given the fact that he rarely wore a hat (the majority of his time was spent bent over the skyhopper’s engine or running at breakneck speeds in a landspeeder or a speederbike). The blonde mop fell tightly against his head only to jut out against his neck and ears, windswept and sweat soaked. The scruffy look was lessened greatly by a youthful face and dancing eyes that made him look even younger than his thirteen years. His gaze fell, part awestruck part resentful, on a taller boy with neat, short cropped black hair. Everything that made Luke look younger made Biggs look older. The extra height, the strong, sharp facial features, but especially the way he carried himself: suave, cool, confident, and always surrounded by a crowd of admirers. Other boys wanted to be like him and girls wanted to have his attention.
Biggs drank in the attention like a performer on stage, reliving his latest accomplishment for the eager audience. Vicarious pride overrode Luke’s other emotions as Biggs caught Luke’s eye and waved his best friend over with a smile. Luke dropped into a shady spot against the power station wall; for the moment he was content with his world and his place in it, waiting for just the right spots to embellish Biggs’s story, bringing gasps from the girls and impressed laughs from the boys. Luke and Biggs competed hard against one another, constantly pushing each other, but at the end of the race Luke was Biggs’s biggest fan and vice versa... only Biggs usually came away the winner.
“That story gets bigger every time you tell it, Big Head.”
The dissatisfied voice from inside the shop could only belong to Fixer. Luke restrained a grin. Both Luke and Biggs deeply enjoyed beating Fixer and needling him over it at every opportunity. Fixer hated being shown up by Biggs, especially on his own turf, which of course factored greatly in Biggs’s motivation. He loved needling Fixer almost as much as he loved flying and far more than he enjoyed the adulation that drove Fixer crazy.
“You know the way to shut me up, Fix,” Biggs challenged lazily. He didn’t even bother to look in Fixer’s direction, but he did toss a glance at Camie. Camie had been among his onlookers for the past hour, and she clearly enjoyed being noticed by Biggs.
“If you’re done holding court out here in the shade,” Fixer grated once he had made his way to the door, “we can go prove who’s the best pilot.” The challenge was laid down.
“I’m in,” Biggs decided with a lazy gleam to his crooked smile. “You in Hotshot?” he asked, ignoring Fixer’s agitation.
Fixer stared daggers at Luke. He clearly wanted this to be a one-on-one showdown between himself and Biggs. Luke gave a half nod, watching Fixer’s face redden as his jaw clenched. Fixer was jealous and resentful but dared not go against Biggs openly.
Of one accord all three pilots made their way to their ships.
Luke was pleased to catch a glimpse of a familiar face on the edge of the crowd, and he had just enough time to throw her a smile and wave before he climbed into his skyhopper.
Breanna Stargazer joined the caravan of landspeeders and speederbikes following the three skyhoppers out to Beggar’s Canyon. This wasn’t the first time she’d seen Luke race. She’d watched enough races to know that he and Biggs were both amazing pilots, and both of them loved it – not the foolishness of Tosche Station but the thrill of testing themselves, nerve, and skill, and the hours of work put into their skyhoppers, against Beggar’s Canyon and against each other. Her speeder came to a halt with the others and her stomach gave a funny jolt as it did; it was still difficult to quiet her nervousness.
One of the reasons Luke was so good was he took chances no one else would take, he flew fearlessly. Breanna understood, perhaps better than anyone else, that Luke had something to prove – not just to Biggs or the crowd outside the power station, but to himself. This was the one thing he knew he could be the best at, the one thing he loved most... but for all his skill, daring, and passion as a pilot, Biggs always managed to keep one step ahead of Luke. It was a testament to the strength of their friendship that there had never been hard feelings between them over a race. Each wanted the other to succeed, just as he wanted to be the one to reclaim that success from his friend.
Breanna parked her speeder and followed a group of older teens toward the start/finish mark. The group ahead of her must have been from Anchorhead, judging by the bits of conversation that floated back to her and the fact that she didn’t readily recognize them.
“I’m putting my money on Fixer. He’s due,” one of the boys decided.
The boy next to him disagreed. “If anybody’s due it’s Skywalker. He’s finished a fraction of a second behind Darklighter the last three contests.”
The first boy laughed. “Skywalker. You might as well throw your money away. That farmboy’s got his broken down hopper held together with twine and packed sand.”
The girl walking between them spoke up next. “Both of you are crazy if you’re betting against Biggs. Biggs Darklighter can’t loose.”
Her companion laughed bitterly. “Yeah, well, if I had his father’s credit account behind me, I’d be unbeatable too,” he said under his breath.
The conversation fell abruptly silent after that. Many people did hold the opinion that Biggs’s top-of-the-line skyhopper, equipped with the best parts and newest upgrades credits could buy, was responsible for his success, but they knew better than to say that very loudly. Biggs would knock out anyone who dared hint that his success was owed more to privilege than to skill. Luke also refused to accept that explanation, and kept looking for next tweak of his ship, the next daring maneuver that would give him that split second advantage and the victory.
Breanna and the rest of the crowd took their places as the three ships came to the start. She clasped her hands to keep them quiet, said a silent prayer for Luke’s safety, then she clamped down on her nerves and concentrated on her confidence in him. Luke knew what he was doing. He’d be all right. He had to be.
For several seconds the sound of the crowd cheering for their favorites competed with the humming engines as the pilots awaited the signal to begin the race. In the cockpit Luke strapped himself in tight and gave his instruments a final check. A faint smile crossed him as he listened to Biggs and Fixer chatter at each other over the open comm channel, but Luke’s attention was completely focused, awaiting the start that would come any second now....
A brief, heavy silence fell as all three pilots awaited the starting signal. Then the flag fell and they were off. Biggs’s skyhopper jumped out to the lead off the starting line with Luke a heartbeat behind him and Fixer bringing up the rear. Biggs was quick to make note of that fact on the comm, but he soon had to focus on keeping Luke behind him.
Typically, Biggs took the offensive, dictating a blistering pace as they shot through the first series of turns. Luke tried to cut to the inside but Biggs was hugging the canyon wall too tightly for Luke to even think about getting by him there. Behind them, Fixer took the turns wider and cursed audibly as he fell further behind for it.
They came up on the first fork in the track and Biggs chose the short route; naturally it was the most winding and dangerous route to the finish line, requiring exquisite skill, reflex, and luck in order to navigate it at race speeds. And choosing that fork also ensured that the other two skyhoppers had no hope of beating Biggs unless they followed him through the most difficult route.
The canyon walls continued to slide by at breakneck speeds as Biggs ran the canyon as hard and fast as possible. Luke stayed on his tail the whole time while Fixer was barely keeping up. Then the high canyon walls abruptly widened and only the stone needle stood between them and the finish. Luke took advantage of the new lane that had opened to him and throttled out to run side by side with Biggs.
They were nose and nose, neither ship able to pull ahead. Luke took a deep breath.
“You still coming, Hotshot?” Biggs challenged.
Luke clenched his teeth. So he hadn’t imagined it. Biggs was taking them directly at the stone needle. “I’m with ya, Biggs,” Luke replied stubbornly.
“You two are crazy!” Fixer yelled, and peeled off, taking the longer route, the one that stayed on the canyon floor and circled around the rock formation at the base of the needle.
Luke swallowed hard as he and Biggs began climbing toward the tip of the stone needle. There was no backing down now. Either one of them would thread the needle and win the race hands down, or they would wreak out and Fixer could finish for the victory at his own leisure.
Biggs continued steadily climbing toward the needle despite the crosswinds that blew above the canyon; they could be felt well before the two ships reached the top of the canyon. Luke took another deep breath, instinctively calming his nerves and steeling his determination. If Biggs could do this so could Luke.
They continued fighting, neck and neck, for position while the stone needle grew ominously nearer and the increasing winds made handling the skyhoppers tricky. Wary of the vicious crosswinds, Biggs waited until the last minute to climb out of the canyon and set himself to thread the needle.
Unable to make his pass before that point, and getting battered more and more by the winds, Luke was forced to pull back and follow Biggs. Everything seemed to slow as Biggs neared the needle. For an eternity he was almost upon it, then his skyhopper slipped through with no more than a slight rub.
Luke grinned reflexively, his emotions flooding with excitement and disbelief. No one had ever threaded the needle, not at these speeds, at least not without smashing up their skyhopper, but there was no time for celebration. Luke was barreling toward the needle only a couple of seconds behind Biggs with no option except to duplicate the impossible.
Then suddenly Luke’s mind exploded with a familiar feeling. He didn’t hesitate. Without knowing why he was doing it, Luke pulled back on the throttle and peeled his skyhopper off course. He watched the outside edge of the stone needle cross his port foil and felt the ship shudder when it made contact. He cursed himself; why had he pulled out? He was going to hit; he’d be lucky if the needle didn’t shear his port foil clean off. Then his instrument panel sounded in alarm and a split second later a powerful wind gust caught his skyhopper and threw him off the needle.
The skyhopper rolled ninety degrees as the wind gust pushed Luke far off course. The anti-grav coils and repulsors shrieked in protest. Luke quickly threw all the power to the starboard thrusters in an attempt to right the ship, and he barely kept control of the dive he threw the skyhopper into to get it back into the canyon and out of the winds. Once the ship began responding normally to his commands again Luke pulled up, perilously close to the canyon floor, and quickly regained his bearings.
The skyhopper’s controls read okay; no serious damage. Biggs was well ahead of him now, having dipped back into the canyon quickly enough to avoid being knocked off course by the wind gust that had caught Luke.
“Luke, you all right?” Biggs’s voice demanded over the comm. Luke could hear his worry. Clearly Biggs had been waiting for Luke to regain control before he came over the comm.
“I’m fine,” Luke answered tersely. Even though he had little hope of catching up now, Luke determinedly laid into the throttle in an attempt to close the gap between himself and Biggs.
“You better worry about your lead, Darklighter,” Fixer’s voice came over the comm.
Luke was stunned when Fixer emerged in front of him and only a handful of lengths behind Biggs – far closer to Biggs than he should have been. Biggs must have slowed down when he saw Luke go off course, losing some of the time he had gained by threading the needle – which meant Luke had been thrown even further off the pace than he had realized.
Luke pushed the throttle all the way down, his skyhopper eating up the ground between him and the leaders, but there wasn’t enough time left to change the running order. Biggs screamed across the finish line a few moments later, having widened his lead over Fixer by at least double what it had been at Fixer’s challenge, and Luke came in last.
Luke brought his skyhopper to the ground and sat back heavily, feeling frustrated and exhausted. He didn’t look forward to getting out and trying to explain why he had pulled out of threading the needle. People would think cowardice had made him pull out at the last second, and he couldn’t tell them any different. How could he possibly explain that he had known that crosswind would have driven him into the stone needle, easily pulverizing him in his ship, before he had even known that there was a crosswind coming. It made no sense. Luke frowned and punched in a diagnostic series. He wanted to make certain the skyhopper hadn’t been damaged by scuffing the needle or by his wild recovery after being battered by the winds... but most of all he needed a few minutes to sit still and think.
These feelings, the unexplained warnings he got, were nothing new. When he was racing Luke knew exactly how far he could push without getting himself hurt or getting his ship smashed up. He had learned to listen to his instincts and heed those feelings... this was just the most extreme example he had ever experienced. That crash could have killed him. Not knowing why he was still alive was a little unnerving. The diagnostic cycle finished and showed little damage; the thrusters were slightly off line, having overcompensated to fight the winds when Luke had righted the ship. They would need to be realigned, but that was easy to fix. In the meantime he’d just have to take the turns a bit easy on the trip home.
Luke looked up and saw Biggs making his way toward him. He put his troubled thoughts aside and climbed from the cockpit just as Biggs reached his skyhopper.
“That was some recovery, Hotshot! You okay?” Biggs asked, gripping Luke’s arm worriedly.
“Yeah. Nothin’ hurt but my pride,” Luke admitted with a grin. “But you – you threaded the stone needle, Biggs!” Luke gushed, shaking Biggs by both shoulders.
“Yeah,” Fixer interjected sourly, “too bad you wimped out, Skywalker.”
Biggs’s eyes flashed, and without warning he turned and floored Fixer with one punch. Luke stood there stunned, watching Fixer wallow in the sand like a bug that had been knocked on its back; for a handful of heartbeats all Fixer could do was kick up dust while the crowd snickered.
They didn’t get it.... Biggs had never gone around picking fights and this was about more than shutting Fixer up. Biggs wasn’t going to allow Fixer or anyone else to call Luke a coward for not threading the needle. He knew that the attempt would likely have killed Luke. Calling him a coward was the same as wishing him dead. A fierce and somber look passed between Luke and Biggs, acknowledging that truth. Then Luke turned and walked away.
Fixer slunk off to nurse his bruised jaw and doubly wounded pride a few minutes later. Biggs had already returned to his own skyhopper and taken the crowd with him, though he mostly ignored them, choosing to run his ship through its post flight inspection before he answered any questions about the race. Luke kept walking with no destination in mind except putting distance between himself and the canyon. He needed a little time and space to think.... But he smiled and gave her a wave when he unexpectedly came upon a familiar face, much like he had before the race. Everybody else was eagerly crowded around Biggs, waiting to hear the details of the race. Breanna was the only person waiting out here in the sea of parked speeders.
She and Luke leaned against the hood of her speeder and he was surprised, as he always was, when conversation came easily. That was unusual for Luke. He tended to get tongue-tied talking to people his own age and it was even worse with girls. Except for Breanna. The two of them had become close friends over the years. Where she had once defended him from Windy and Deak’s teasing when they had been small children, now she worried over his recklessness as a pilot. Aside from Biggs she was the only one who didn’t call him Wormie or tease him mercilessly, and she was the only person he could talk to about the strange feelings and warnings of danger he often got while racing.
“I didn’t know you were coming out today.”
“Glad I didn’t miss it,” she replied. “Close race,” Breanna offered when Luke remained silent, deliberately leaving him the opening to say more.
Luke’s gaze shifted to watch Biggs, now animatedly discussing the race, surrounded by a throng of admirers, many of them female. It was strange. Part of him wanted more than anything to be in his place, the celebrated winner... and part of him was glad not to be there. He didn’t like being at the center of attention; it made him feel awkward and shy, and he never knew how he was supposed to act, especially around girls. Sometimes, he admitted begrudgingly to himself, he was almost glad to be in Biggs’s shadow.
“Biggs threaded the needle. I can’t believe it. I was a second away from chasing him through.” Luke shook his head, but once the words started to come they tumbled out without thought. He told Breanna about Biggs’s setting the pace off the start and Luke’s trying unsuccessfully to get around him. And then realizing that they were going for the needle. “I was ready to go through,” Luke argued. “But at the last minute – I felt danger. I peeled off, and then the winds hit me.”
Breanna nodded when Luke glanced in her direction. Her gaze was intent on him, and yet something about her presence was calming.
Luke had only ever told Biggs and Breanna about the warning feelings he got while racing. Biggs had been skeptical. In the end he had humored Luke, but he’d never totally believed that Luke wasn’t pulling his leg or simply letting his overactive imagination get the better of him. Breanna had always taken him at his word, accepted what he told her, and simply believed him – believed in him.
Suddenly Luke didn’t feel like saying anything else. He took a lot of chances and prided himself on flying fearlessly, but he knew he had come within a second of dying out there today. The unexplained feelings had never worried him before, but it was intimidating to know that his life had been saved not by his own skill or determination or even dumb luck, but by something he had no understanding of and no control over. Breanna didn’t seem to need him to say anything else, and the two of them sat perched on her speeder watching the crowd that had come for the race gradually fade away and the suns sink lower behind the stone needle.
“Sandpeople have been active lately, and it’ll be getting dark soon,” Luke finally noted when the daylight started to fade into shadows cast by the canyon walls. “I should make sure you get home okay before it gets any later.”
Breanna smiled at his offer. “That’s okay, I’m not going home. My mom and I are staying in town, with Annalis, for a little while.” She paused heavily. “Things are kinda loud at home,” she admitted, “I was as glad to take a break from it and to visit Annalis, and it’s great getting to stay with my nieces and nephew,” she added.
“Didn’t Cairina come with you and your mom?”
Breanna gave a little wince. “Really? I think she’s afraid to leave.”
Luke frowned. “Afraid?”
“You know, if she leaves, he might not be there when she comes back.”
“But if they fight all the time....”
Breanna shrugged evasively. “I don’t understand it either.”
“What about your parents?”
“Mostly they just try to keep peace between the two of them.” She hesitated. “But I did hear my dad fighting with Britt, once, a couple of weeks after the wedding. He said Cairina wasn’t doing her part and my dad was lucky Britt didn’t divorce her for it.”
Breanna said the word gingerly; such a thing was hardly spoken of. A man had a right to divorce his wife if she failed to uphold her vows. But no matter how bad a marriage was, staying married was still preferred to the scandal and dishonor a woman’s family would endure from a match ending in divorce.
The woman would never marry again, and the failed match would cause future matches with her family to become far less sought after. The stigma of divorce would remain a burden upon her relatives for generations. The man seeking the divorce could remarry if he chose to, but his prospects would also be lessened; even if his actions in seeking the divorce were believed to be justified, the dishonor that he had brought upon the family of his first wife would not be easily overlooked by his future suitors or their families.
“My dad got so angry he hit him,” Breanna whispered. “Britt threatened to take Cairina and leave after that, but my dad said he couldn’t because of the contract. They argued over Cairina like she belonged to each of them.” Breanna shivered. “It was creepy.”
“I’m sorry,” Luke whispered and put an arm around her shoulder.
“It hasn’t been that bad in a while, but lately Britt’s been saying he expects a son or a daughter by the end of this season. They fight over that a lot. Cairina thinks he’s been seeing a woman in Mos Eisely for,” her voice lowered in hesitation, “his needs....” Breanna blushed and swallowed hard, immediately regretting that she had said that.
She remembered when she had been younger. She had admired the beautiful women in their brightly colored dancing dresses, even after her mother had insisted that the sort of places they served drinks in were not fit for ladies. Breanna had never suspected that those women earned their livings with more than dancing, not until she had heard Cairina accuse Britt of going there to indulge in more than gambling or a strong drink. Nor had he denied the charge.
Breanna shook her thoughts away from shady establishments in Mos Eisely. She didn’t think Britt a very honorable sort of man, so his poor behavior didn’t surprise her. Nor did she think Cairina truly objected, only it wounded her pride, and she worried that if her husband’s indiscretion continued it might eventually become public knowledge, further shaming her.... But on the day Britt and her father had argued it had been her father’s actions that had surprised Breanna.
“I’ve never seen my Dad get that angry before.... Maybe Cairina didn’t want to leave the two of them alone,” Breanna wondered out loud. Dyllan Stargazer was normally an easygoing sort of man, the type who led by example and made few enemies. Breanna had always thought of her father as safe and harmless, but she had seen that he could act with all the dangerous fury of a male Kyrat defending its young. Breanna shook her head, not wanting to think about it anymore, and she leaned against Luke’s side.
Without pausing to think about what he was doing Luke lifted his chin and gently pulled her head against his shoulder. It seemed a comforting thing to do... and Breanna seemed to agree. She leaned her forehead against his neck and his cheek brushed the top of her head.
He could smell her hair. It was a wonderful, clean smell, with just a hint of something sweet – like the apple blossoms on the trees at the Starkiller’s home. It was strange. For the first time in his life he really noticed that Breanna was a girl. She wasn’t shallow and flirty like Camie. She didn’t dress in fancy clothes and show off like Annalis. She was more like Luke. Breanna was usually dressed in a farmer’s smock and tunic with her long hair pleated and pulled back like it was today, or tucked under an oversized hat to ward off the suns. She understood the desert, vaperators, and speeders. But she was different too, soft and feminine.
Luke took a deep breath, breathing in the cool evening air and the scent of apple blossoms... and the pair sat there watching the suns sink lower. Breanna knew she had to go soon; even in Anchorhead she had to be home before dark... but there wasn’t anyplace else she wanted to be but sitting here beside Luke. He had a way of making her feel comfortable and safe no matter what else was going on in her life. He had been her best friend for as long as she could remember. As long as she thought of him that way she could almost ignore the way the other girls fawned over him and Biggs at Tosche Station, forget the fact that she had no way of competing with that... and as much as she wanted to keep him to herself Luke wasn’t bound to her, not yet. Until their betroval was made official she had no real claim on him, except that she loved him with all her heart; she always had.
Breanna pushed those feelings aside and lifted her head in confusion and surprise. For a moment she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her, then she realized that Biggs actually had extracted himself from a gaggle of very disappointed-looking girls so that he could walk in their direction. Luke chuckled, and Breanna flushed scarlet, immensely thankful that Luke hadn’t misunderstand the way she was ogling Biggs as he walked toward them.
“Biggs told me once, it’s not him they’re after,” Luke said softly. Breanna looked at him just as skeptically as Luke had looked at Biggs upon hearing that revelation. “It’s the winner of the race they want,” Luke explained. “If it was Fixer they’d be fawning all over him right now.” Luke found that thought especially distasteful, and that had always made it stick with him, made him realize that no matter the greatness of the accomplishment, ninety percent of the adulation was phony. At the end of the day all that really mattered was what you thought of yourself, and maybe the company of a few good friends, the ones who would sit beside you win or loose.
Biggs walked over and sat down beside Luke, shaking his head. “Luke, I saw that gust hit you and– man, it’s a good thing your sensors caught that crosswind and you didn’t try to follow me through! If that gust had hit you while you were in the needle, the needle could have taken out your hopper and you too.”
“Don’t I know it,” Luke agreed. It hadn’t been the sensors that had saved him, and he was still bothered by that knowledge, but he wouldn’t get anywhere arguing that point with Biggs. “I could have taken out the needle!”
Biggs laughed. “I’ve almost done that a time or two, and I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“Now you’ve threaded it.” Luke shook his head in disbelief as Biggs grinned from ear to ear. “Nothing can top that.”
“Beggar’s Canyon is still yours, Hotshot.”
“Ah, anybody can bag womp rats,” Luke scoffed.
“Not from two hundred meters, running the turns at race speeds. I’ve never seen anybody do that, Luke.”
“I mean it,” Biggs persisted. “You’ve got more raw talent than I do, Luke. You just need confidence.”
“Maybe,” Luke admitted, mostly just to end the conversation. “If we’re so square on skill, then I still say we oughta swap rides, just once, to really make things interesting,” Luke challenged. He knew he was the only person who could get away with voicing that challenge, and he also knew what Biggs’s response would be.
“And watch you smash up my skyhopper trying to cut across the canyon dune turn. I don’t think so! Besides, if you really think I’ve got the better hopper then you’ll just have to keep working on yours until it’s equal,” Biggs responded with a challenge of his own.
Luke grinned widely. Biggs would never agree to the experiment, and Luke would keep trying to make his hopper equal to Biggs’s. What fun would it be otherwise?
“Take it easy, Hotshot,” Biggs said, dismissing himself with a wave.
“See ya,” Biggs.
“Don’t let him stay too late, Breanna,” Biggs called over his shoulder. “Or Uncle Owen’ll ground him again,”
Luke winced. “Don’t remind me,” he said under his breath.
So Let it Be Written Publishing © 2004