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

the waves coming in normally made me calm and tranquil. Now I felt jittery and impulsive, and I kept turning around at the lightest sound. I sat on a bale of hay (borrowed, not stolen) and in my lap I held a burlap sack filled with nails and scrap pieces of wood from the construction site at Sandy State. I had taken the liberty of trashing the place while I collected the supplies Roy asked for. It was all surprisingly easy. I guess when you live like a vandal, stealing and dexterity become a part of your demeanor. The thought scared and shocked me.

Speaking of scared and shocked…

"Hey." I spun around again, causing the hay to quake.

"Hey man." Why was my voice so lifeless? Roy stood with a hand on his hip, then swung the backpack off. I couldn't predict what he'd do.

I certainly couldn't predict this: Roy grabbed my hand, pulled me up and swept me into a hug. I awkwardly returned it, and the feelings of euphoria and shock returned. I cast my eyes down as an irrepressible smile caught my face.

"You ready?" Roy asked. How could I tell him how ready I was? Man, I'd follow him anywhere. The word "whipped" came to mind, but I shrugged in a would-be casual way.

"Let's go." And I stuck up my hand for a high five. After that touch, the tension was snapped, and I felt confident enough to pull my arm over his shoulder as we walked up the beach to the dock, swinging the hay and the sack as we went.

"You got a plan, Roy?"

"Nope. I guess I'm just gonna play it by ear. And if we get caught, I'll say you had nothing to do with it."

I stopped and dropped everything I was holding. I didn't take my hand off his shoulder.

"WE, Roy. I'm not going anywhere." And then I picked it all up again and started trudging back.

But I saw the relief behind his eyes. And my mind was set now more than ever.

"So I'm guessing we're gonna burn something?" I didn't know why I was whispering; call it instinct.

Roy nodded, and as we came closer to the town he lightly took his arm off of my shoulder. There weren't many kids in the streets, which was no surprise. Even in Coconut Cove people know when to beat it, and tonight was one of those nights.

"What do we do now?" We reached a crossroads. The barn was less than a mile off, and I could make out a group of two or three people in the distance.

"We wait, I guess. Put the hay down. We don't need it yet anyway. Let's do some Recon."

"Sure, man, but I cased the place when I heard. It's just the barn and open field till you reach the woods." His brow furrowed, and I desperately searched for a way to make this work.

"I guess we'll have to run fast, then." He shrugged, pretending to be unafraid.

I smiled, but in my mind I was screaming. "We're gonna get caught! Roy's gonna get caught!" I knew I could survive another trip to juvie, but I never wanted that for Roy. However, if he was determined to do this, then God help us.

"Where do we set up?" And the smile on his face was thanks enough.

"Over here, right up in front." His voice became serious. "Here's my plan. We spread the hay thick, but only light the paper, which burns the words "MURDER INSIDE". We kerosene the hay to burn a circle in the red paint. It should work, if my chem class is right, paint burns twice as long as hay, so the effect will be pretty good."

"Kay." I started pulling out handfuls of hay. "Man I hope this works."

As we worked in silence, I stared at the fire and thought back to another pyromaniac I once knew…


Chapter Eighteen: The Last Night

Flashback: (Mullet Finger's POV)
We sat around the expertly-made campfire (okay, fine, I made it, but it was still warm and bright)and stared up at the stars. It was the night before the trip to the city, my last chance to turn back. I searched the skies, wondering if I was doing the right thing. Merlin (I never did learn his real name; he had taught me the value of a good nickname) was lying on his stomach, poring over something or other, and I hugged my knees in close.

"Hey, Merlin?"

"Yea, kid?"

"I just wanted to say something."

Once again, he read my mind like a flashing billboard.

"You don't have to thank me. You needed help, it was a done deal." He rolled up on his heels and extended a hand to me.

"I made you somethin'. Try it on."

So I stuck out my hand, and he laughed.

"Nope. Try again." And I stuck out my other hand, confused.

"Strike two." Why was everything a quiz with this guy?

"Why don't you just tell me what you mean?"

"Because then you won't value what I'm giving you."

I sighed, and hesitantly pushed out my bare foot. He smirked, a satisfied grin.

"Good job. Best out of three." But he tied it to my leg all the same, and I saw it was made of soft grass, and he stained some of those weird Taiwanese letters onto it.

"What does it say?" I had to make sure he didn't write anything that would get me in trouble if I ever met another Taiwanese person.

"It's the secret of life, man." He pointed out each symbol, explaining the meaning. "In my culture, we believe in a simpler life, we don't monger for money and power like the Americans. Don't ever let anyone convince you that you have to fit into their rules. If you don't want to do something, get out of it, somehow. There's always a way if something is meant to be."

"But what is this secret?" I hid my restlessness.

"Life, death, love." He looked at me, as if expecting me to laugh or say something.

But I was breathless. I vowed never to take it off.

And when we silently snuck back into the camp that night, I watched him go into his cabin and I prayed for him, and for myself. This was my prayer: "Life, death, love."

It was the last night we'd spend together in the woods, but it wasn't the last night of my life. I would escape, and nothing would get me. Because Merlin, whoever he was, was right: there's always a way to get out of something that's bad for you. Merlin was my way out. He showed me how to escape.

And I was going to be Roy's escape.


Chapter Nineteen: Never Alone

Roy Eberhart was breathing too hard. He tried to slow his heart rate, but to no avail. Was it his nerves, or perhaps the beautiful blond boy kneeling beside him, peering around through the window and holding his hand. Roy just realized Mullet Fingers was holding his hand, and he gave it a grateful squeeze.

"I think we should split." Roy whispered in Mullet's ear.

"What gave you THAT idea?" Mullet wasn't being sarcastic: two of the men had just raised an alarm in the old shed, and dozens of people were looking around nervously, smelling the smoke.

"Let's go." Roy pulled himself up alongside the window, and stopped abruptly.

He was staring into the beam of a flashlight.

Mullet began to run for the cover of the woods, but a few seconds later he looked to see Roy turn with the police on his tail.

They'll trap him like a fox if I don't do something!

And in his desperation, he spied the row of cars lined up for the cock fight. People had just begun to leave, and in the mad confusion it was easy to hot wire an old Toyota.

God, please help me, I need to get Roy. Amen!

Strange that now his thoughts weren't of life or death, but love. Mullet Fingers the juvenile delinquent was becoming sentimental, and it was all the fault of a certain brunette boy. Well, no time to think about that, as Mullet gunned the engine and pulled alongside the shed, which Roy was circling rapidly for a fifth time, with now TWO cops on his tail, both searching with lights for the vandal in a red shirt.

"Roy!" His name cut through the madness to Roy Eberhart, who was thinking that Mullet Fingers had cut and run on him. The lucky one dived into the passenger side, flinging the door shut before the first cop turned the corner.

Mullet slammed the gas pedal and they were away, taking a roundabout route to the shipyard.

It was several strained minutes before Roy spoke, hesitantly.

"I-I thought you were gone on me back there, when I couldn't see you. I thought…" His voice went dry. Mullet took his eyes off of the empty road for a second and stared into Roy's eyes. Roy looked away first, ashamed. Mullet spoke.

"Starting from here, let's make a promise." He glanced back at the road, swerving to avoid hitting a stray seagull. Roy said nothing.

"You and me, let's just be honest." Roy looked back at Mullet Fingers, and the blonde reached for his hand, steering with the other hand. Roy's hand was much colder now, and sweating.

"We're gonna run, nothing can stop us." Roy shook his head. Mullet's voice became more definite.

"Even the night, that falls all around us! We're gonna run. They're not gonna get us!"

"Mullet Fingers…" Roy pleaded.

"They're not gonna get us." Mullet obstinately repeated.

"Not gonna get us." Roy said hoarsely.

And Mullet spoke reassuringly, feeding into Roy's imagination. As he went on, his voice rose a little and Roy realized he was singing. Roy was speechless. Mullet didn't seem to mind; the blonde drove on, creating a cushion of asphalt between them and any pursuers. The minutes flew like seconds, and Roy spoke up at last.

"I love you too, Mullet." And he let his head fall on the driver's shoulder, who put his free arm around Roy.

They traveled like this for the remaining miles, and Roy turned on the radio and found a Christian rock station. He knew the lyrics, and sang strongly.

"We cannot separate, cause you're part of me, and though you're invisible, I trust the unseen. I cry out with no reply, and I can't feel you by my side. So I'll hold tight to what I know. You're here, and I'm never alone."

And they parked a few miles from the docks and went aboard the Molly Bell.

Though he promised himself he wouldn't close his eyes, Roy sank onto Mullet's bed and fell asleep. A few minutes later, Mullet leaned down over the sleeping form to tell him good night. In Roy's unconscious state, he swear he heard someone say, "You're here, and I'm never alone."