Well, this was swiftly going downhill. Clover now had dog poo on his shoes, a group of older, tougher boys glaring at him and smacking their fists into their hands like they meant to beat him up, and a partner-in-crime who was barely bigger than Clover himself and wasn't much help in the fight last time. He stumbled back and hit the stand behind him; not expecting it, he went head-over-heels into the dirt, arm landing funny and making him cry out. It didn't feel twisted or broken, but he expected a bad bruise to form and he frowned.