We needed leverage. We couldn't just wait for the reporter to act. Luna, drawing on a reserve of strength, proposed a plan. "He's afraid of me. He called me a ghost. So let me be one."
That night, she went to the Alcantara compound. It was a massive strain; the farther she went from her anchor points, the more energy it cost her. She found Hector's room. She appeared as the faintest shimmer in his mirror. She whispered his name on the air conditioning vent. She knocked a framed photo of his grandfather off his dresser.
The next day at school, Hector was a wreck. Pale, jumpy, with dark circles under his eyes. He looked terrified. When I "accidentally" dropped my books near him, he flinched so hard he almost fell over. The bully was scared. And a scared bully was a vulnerable one.