Practice Makes Permanent

Wally felt his legs move out from under him. He fell forward, knees folding and cracking against the pavement.

Uncle Barry crossed his arms and sighed. "You're not paying attention."

"You're trying to kill me!"

Barry hoisted the boy up by his elbow, brushing a bit of dirt off his yellow costume. "I can't kill you. What would your mother say?"

The boy growled, shoulders slumping.

"Let's try again," Flash chuckled, pushing his nephew forward. "You need to watch." He was gone in a blur of red.

Wally sighed, planted his feet, and hoped that he could see which direction his uncle was coming from when he returned.

He hated training.