Change the World / I'm Not Alone, C.T. Lang [short books for teens .txt] 📗

in so hard your tiny brain will shatter and go all over the street!" And gesturing to said street, the blonde noticed the school bus turn closer.

So he dropped the bigger boy on his fat bottom and left him there whimpering, yelling as he ran, "Don't forget, Dana! Roy's not alone!"


Chapter Twelve: Motorboat Prayers

Roy Eberhardt couldn't believe his luck. Neither of his parents had bothered checking up on the Catholic Church lie, nor had his teachers requested the homework he hadn't done. It was almost as if he couldn't do anything wrong. So instead of sneaking from class to class avoiding Dana Matherson, he walked upright and even slapped Garrett a high-five in the hall. Life felt good.

Until Beatrice swiftly passed him a note marked "Caution" in deep red letters.

He decided to ask her about it after school.

"What was that about?" He was at her bike faster than she could hop on, so she turned to face him and sighed at the note in his hand.

"My brother. I couldn't chance a teacher swiping it; it was too risky for Mullet Fingers." Roy tried not to panic.

"What's wrong with him? He's not hurt, is he?"

"No… nothing like that. I just want you to be careful, is all."

"Why? What happened?"

"He didn't tell you?"

"We haven't really talked since the uh, when I uh, got out of the freezer."

"You mean when we saved your ass." Bea smirked.

"No need to use that word."

"Yea well anyway, cowgirl, if my brother goes to that cockfight tomorrow, he's not gonna make it out. He thinks he can beat up the whole crowd and save the roosters or somethin', he's crazy. He'll get clobbered. But of course he won't listen to me, I'm just the girl, but I know my brother's no match for—"

"He's going WHERE?"

"To this cock fight on Saturday, at this place near the old farm shed. You didn't know about this?"

"Yea, a kid told me it was happening, but how did Mullet find out?"

"I dunno, Tex, but it ain't good. He's gonna go, and he's gonna get clobbered."

"He's a strong kid."

"ROY! C'mon, you honestly can't think my brother could beat those thugs!" She lowered her voice, gesturing wildly. "There's a reason kids like you aren't allowed to go to cock fights. Normally it's only high-schoolers and up, because fights happen." She lowered her voice. "My dad went to one two years ago, had to bail out one of his old teammates. The guy ended up in the E.R., and my dad got a gash as thick as a paper clip in his neck. I was up all night taking care of him." Roy gulped.

"What do I have to do?"

"What do you mean? To stop him? I don't think we can. Remember the owls?"

"This is different! He'll get killed!" Roy was almost hysterical now. "Where is he?" Bea pondered the question.

"He's probably fishing, down in the channel off the waterfront."

"Okay thanks." Roy raced for his bike.

"Wait! I thought yall weren't…" He was a blur racing by; Bea only whispered,

"--weren't talking to each other."


------------------------------------------------------
Roy was so worried about the barefoot kid, he didn't even say goodbye to Beatrice the Bear. He figured it would take him ten minutes to get to the front, but he got there in six. Huffing in oxygen, he scurried through the sand. Luckily, someone had moored a small motorboat not far from the public beach access, so Roy Eberhardt, the model citizen whose dad was with the Department of Justice, mercilessly hijacked it.

Skimming down the channel as fast as the small craft would go, Roy panned the surroundings for a glimpse of that blonde hair, the tan frame, even the woven anklet he always wore, with the weird Asian lettering. Roy realized Mullet hadn't ever bothered to tell him what it meant. Now it wasn't important. He couldn't find a trace of him, and after several more minutes, he slowed down the engine to save the power: he had to have enough to go home.

Still squinting into the distance, his mind swimming even as his body baked shirtless in the dry boat, Roy exhaled nervously. Now his anxious mind was paranoid. He had been mistaken to come out here. Was he lost? He'd never been on the channel without Mullet Fingers, never been out this far even with the blonde kid. Navigating in a car he was good at, but on water, he had no way of steering, except the tiller, which was a mystery to him, so he moved in a straight line, steering with his own body weight to avoid crashing into trees along the edge. Would he tip over? He didn't know how deep the water was, or what menacing sea creatures it contained.

In truth, Roy Eberhardt would've happily lived without knowing the wonders of the sea. He was somewhat of a wimp when it came to water, having nearly drowned in a white water rafting excursion when he was seven years old in the mountains. He had vowed never to get submerged in water again. (The vow was soon broken the next day in the bathtub.) But the absence of Mullet Fingers brought to Roy's mind that same feeling of helplessness that "Tex" wasn't used to feeling. So he did what every great adventurer does when confronted with a heart-stopping problem: he talked to himself.

"Whoa there, easy… a little to the left, here we go." He kept his balance.

"Oh my gosh is that a gator?" His breathing was almost constant now, his eyes wide as conch shells. It certainly looked like an alligator. He could feel the ripples as it bobbed in time with the current. He held back a scream, and sat perfectly still in the boat.

"Dear God, it's Roy. I love You--PLEASE don't let me die today. Let someone come help me, or make the gator go away! Help me! Amen"

He said the prayer a good dozen times, and with his eyes closed tightly, put a wary hand on the tiller, to check its power. It was hot. He opened his eyes.

He couldn't find the gator.

But he could hear something in the water, a smooth series of ripples echoing louder and louder in his eardrums.

Then, with no warning,

the

world

turned

upside

down!
------------------------------------------------------Sputtering and gasping for air, Roy reached the water's surface and came out of shock. Something had upset the boat. And that something was quickly making waves away from him, so that all he could see was an anklet with weird Asian letters.


Chapter Thirteen: Miracles Do Happen

Roy didn't remember lunging for the barefoot kid, or shouting his name, but he must've done something to keep him there. True, he had to work extremely hard to appear angry at Bea's stepbrother, but judging by the serious look on his perfect face, he'd done a good job. Now he could enjoy listening for the apology that was sure to come.

Yep, any second now.

"Hey, chill Montana." But there was a tension in the relaxed face: something like panic was taking over.

Roy didn't reply.

"Why're you out here?"

Stony silence.

"Okay, fine, don't tell me anything." But there was no denying now he was concerned. He turned away, and Roy itched to say something.

"Wait."

"What?"

"You wanna go fishing?" It was a stupid thing to say: but he had to keep Mullet Fingers there.

"You want me to go fishing with you?"

"Yea, you sound like you never been before." Roy tried to sound sarcastic.

It miraculously worked, and Mullet was grinning.

"Okay, Tex. C'mon." And he pulled Roy into the boat, where the brunette tried to act as though nothing serious had happened, like he got flipped over in a freshwater tributary every day.

"So did you bring anything? Line, bait?"

Roy wrinkled an eyebrow, and it occurred to Mullet Fingers that Roy stole the boat.

"Really? Dude, you have started thinking like an outlaw!" He seemed impressed. "What was so important?"

Now it was Roy's turn to panic. He couldn't very well say "you".

But Mullet seemed to get the idea.

"Oh."

-------------Mullet's Point of View------------------

Roy's blue eyes had never looked so beautiful. He was blushing now, and I thought I knew why. And I was never one to be embarrassed.

"It was me?" A low voice asked.

He nodded, avoiding my gaze. I couldn't blame him.

For a minute, a long, long minute, passed with both of us looking at the water, the golden sunset, anything to avoid looking at the other's eyes.

Then I knew I had to do something, or I'd screw up this one chance.

But I couldn't think of a word to say.

If I'd had the time, I would have written a speech for Roy. I'd have told him how he saved me from becoming insane, and how I thought about him all the time, and all the things he meant to me, but I realized in about three seconds how corny that sounded, and my tongue stayed dry.

So I held his hand.

And it felt all warm and sweaty. But I barely noticed, because he was actually letting me hold his hand. And I know this sounds really stupid, but it was honestly the best feeling I'd had in years. And it was one of those times when I can forget everything and feel normal.

No, not normal. Awesome, totally mind-boggling, way better than normal! Like when a sight takes your breath away and you want to cry and laugh at the same time.

And just when I thought my mind would explode with this giddy feeling, he spoke up.

And I was reminded of why I love him.

"I was looking for you."

I grinned: how could I help it?

"Hey man, I'm glad you did." And I hugged him. Only for a few seconds, but it felt like a few seconds in heaven. And it wasn't a sappy, aww-I-love-you-too-Mom kind of hug. It was a… I don't even know what kind of hug that was. But I do know that when we finally let go again, we couldn't stop looking at each other.

So we nearly hit the huge black bird that swooped down in front of us.


Chapter Fourteen: Anything

I swear it wasn't Roy's fault. He barely knew how to steer, and it had almost swooped in front of us. Plus, I mean, we had other things on our minds. So here was this majestic bird alighting on a log in the water, and of course my mind is on over-drive, so I think of birds- then Roy- then birds again- then cock fight! And I feel sick. Because I don't want to have to tell Roy about this. It seemed so easy before, so simple: get the roosters out safe or die trying. I was in a fight with Roy anyway, so what was wrong with dying? Maybe that's a little messed up, but whatever. I didn't care.

So he's looking at me, and my face must've given somethin' away, because he's staring at me like he knows somethin' I don't. And I'm wishing he won't say anything about it, because it already hurts.

"Mullet, we have to talk." Damn. He said somethin'.

"What?" Oh,