Change the World / I'm Not Alone - C.T. Lang (the unexpected everything TXT) 📗

hear who won anyway."

"I won't?"

"It'll be all over school." He paused, looking around nervously. "Dana Matherson said his uncle trained the red cock. I hope it's a better fighter than he is, for Dana's sake. He put $40 on it!"

"Forty dollars on a ROOSTER?!?"

"Keep your voice down, Roy!"

"That's just… a lot, you know? What if the fight's like, busted?"

"Oh, they paid the bribes, it's all cool-cool, ya know?"

Roy nodded eagerly, glad to see Garrett was done discussing it. As they went on to bash the English teacher with renewed vigor, something Roy was only half listening to. Other questions raced through his mind.

Would he go to the cock fight?

Did he want to see Dana get beat on a bet?

Did he want to even watch the fight?

Would he be able to if he could stand it?

How bad would it be to get caught?

What would Mullet Fingers say?

His stomach gave a sickening lurch at that last question. Mullet Fingers. The boy would hate him for even considering participating in a crude form of animal abuse like this. Thinking of Mullet convinced him. No matter what, he would not set foot at that cock fight.

No matter what.


Chapter Nine: Spiritual Guidance

Soccer practice had ended, and Beatrice Leep was genuinely worried about the sick infant she had left at the hospital. So she figured she'd take Roy to the hospital to check up on the Cuban child before they returned to the Molly Bell to plot and do homework.

Only problem: Roy was nowhere to be seen. So she did the logical thing and left, stealing his bike again.

Upon finding the neo-natal ward (for newborns to nine-months), she snuck past the nurse on duty and pushed open the swinging doors. She found the infant with no trouble, since she was the only patient in this section. A heart monitor read the pulse, and Bea listened for a few minutes to the steady heartbeat. A sheet was hanging off of the adjoining table, and Bea saw nothing immoral in removing it to read through.

Diagnosis: Colic.

Condition: stable, vital signs holding well.

Mother's name: Margarita Soleil

Father's name: N/A (Bea didn't find this unusual, given the circumstances.)

Child's name: Sonrisa Guava Soleil

American citizen? Yes No x

She stopped reading. This was really none of her business, now that she'd determined the girl (Sonrisa! What a beautiful name! Like the sunrise, Bea thought) would be fine. So, with a tiny wave that would go unnoticed by the sleeping infant, Bea crept back out of the hospital, scarcely aware of the RNA who had kindly turned a blind eye to her visit.


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Roy weaved through the kids, avoiding Dana above all, to his bus. As he rode home, he recalled clearly the details he would have to tell his mother.

"Hey mom."

"Hi Honey! We missed you! Your father and I were so worried, we called everywhere, and when we couldn't find you, we asked Officer Delinko to write up a missing person's report! But then your minister called, and we knew everything was all right. But honey, you really ought to call us before you decide to go off on your own like that!" Roy had been expecting worse.

Now it was Dad's turn. He seemed puzzled.

"I didn't know you had Presbyterian friends."

Roy had to make something up fast. "Yea, well, not a lot of them, but a guy in my History class invited me to go last night, and I thought it'd be all right, and I just forgot."

"Oh, I'm not mad, Roy, but it would've been nice. Next time, make sure you call."

"Yes sir."

"So what are you doing this afternoon? Not going to church again?"

Roy started to say no, but in truth, here was a ready-made excuse not to come home from dinner.

"Sorry, dad, if it's okay… I mean, uh, yea."

But Roy's mom jumped all over the idea. "The Presbyterian church again? I can drive you!"

But Roy cut her off. "Uh, no Mom. Actually tonight it's a Catholic church." The Catholic Church was closer to the pier, so he could cut through the parking lot and meet Mullet at the beach. Roy's mom looked puzzled, but accepted it as a fad. Then she proceeded to talk the whole way.

"Mom, chill, it's a church."

"Okay, honey, but if you need to tell me anything? Are you feeling confused about your beliefs? Do you need some spiritual guidance? Is this why you're… I mean, it's wonderful that you're going to church so much, but, twice a week is strange for you… not that I don't love it, I do!"

Roy just chuckled. Better that way, he didn't have to lie.

"Good night, mom. I can walk home."

"Are you sure? It'll be dark."

"It's Coconut Cove, mom, what's the worst that can happen?"

As it turns out, a lot.


Chapter Ten: The Respect

As I approached the beach, I remembered the last time I'd been out here by myself. It seemed like ages ago, because in truth, I didn't like going to the beach without Mullet Fingers. It was boring, and there was hardly any wildlife. Mullet brought it all to him, as if he was a charmer or something. In fact, it occurred to me a couple of times that he WAS trained in the art of snake charming, because it just didn't make sense to me that a runaway boy like him would be able to mingle with cottonmouths like he did. It was unexplainable.

As I wandered aimlessly around, looking but not really seeing the beautiful beginnings of a wild red sunset on the coast, I was startled as everything went black: I felt two hands over my eyes.

When I tensed up and was about to panic, I felt the grip loosen. Those hands sorta felt familiar too, but I was in no state to recognize them. First Dana Matherson, and Garrett, and that stupid cock fight, now this! I ripped at the intruding hands, but they stayed resolutely. In addition, I was being guided somewhere. Roughly. I tried to scream, and one of the hands flew to my mouth. In addition, a low "shhh" emitted from behind me.

"Geez, Tex, can't take a joke?"

Mullet! I could've hugged him. Why was I being so awfully obvious? Maybe my nerves were just a little tight. Or... no.

"Hey Mullet Fingers."

"Hey man, get in. We've got a lot of work to do."

Minutes later, the boat pulled up on the beach where Sandy States Realty was meant to build, and to terrorize the fish, turtles and lizards that already called "Sandy State" home.

"Status check, man."

"Hmm, Roy, it's been a few days, maybe we should lay low."

I grinned; this had to be a joke.

"Or not."

"I like the way your think, Tex."

From the glove compartment of the stolen vessel, Mullet retrieved his sack, this time filled with spray cans of black paint.

"Let's go stop some real estate."

We spent the rest of the night painting over the For Sale signs for Sandy State, along with our usual ripping out of stakes from the ground. I added a personal touch: a drawing of a beheaded turtle on the side of the construction trailer. I meant to draw the entire turtle, but I ran out of paint in my can before I finished the head, so I guess it ended up as a beheaded turtle. Mullet seemed to like it.

"Nice job, Tex. Real meaningful."

"I'm surprised you know what it means, drop-out." I played with his hair. Nothing wrong with that, right?

He scoffed, "I ain't a drop-out. I might drop-in again sometime."

My eyes widened in hope.

"But that's neither here nor there, Roy. Tonight's about the critters." He pulled a fishnet from the boat, and we caught food for the turtles and tossed back the small ones. Then we took two good-sized silver ones to fry back by the golf course.


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"Mom! Dad! I'm home!"

"How was your night at church? Did you eat?"

"Yea mom, I ate. We had pizza." A boldfaced lie.

"What was the lesson, son?" His father sounded genuinely interested.

Roy thought for a second, trying to be as sincere as possible. If his answer seemed suspicious, his parents might question the youth minister. If it sounded cheesy, he'd feel awful for lying so badly to them. Given the circumstances, honesty wasn't that hard.

"Respect the world, respect all God's creation."


Chapter Eleven: He's Not Alone

A blonde, bronze-skinned boy dashed down East Oriole as he always did.

Only this time, he had a target in mind.

Mullet Fingers had arrived super early to the bus stop east of town, two blocks past the owl conservation. He sat leisurely watching the sun rise, estimating it was ten till seven. That was fine; he had all the time in the world, his rage wasn't going to go away.


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Meanwhile, a stout, pudge-waisted boy with a red backpack began ambling up the street, while muttering curses apparently to thin air. Stopping for breath, he looked around. He saw only an empty bus stop, nothing abnormal. He loped in an ungainly fashion to the unoccupied bench and sat down with a thud and shut his eyes in concentration.

"6 times 6 is 34… no 36, dammit."

"8 times 6 is 34, no… it's fifty something. Aw screw it I'm gonna fail."

The blonde found it almost amusing. He continued listening.

"So if I get 40 bucks from that cock fight I'll have $58…"

The blonde's deep eyes narrowed and furrowed at the thought of poor roosters being forced to fight to the death. He decided it was time.

"So when's the fight?"

He could tell he had startled the little whelp, who stared confusedly.

"What? Who are you?"

Thank God he doesn't remember me. But Mullet Fingers had changed a lot since that miniature stint at Juvie.

"That ain't important. Where's the fight?"

"My uncle's house. Down by the old shed." He pointed a stubby forefinger. "Saturday, at 8."

The blonde studied his expression with an air of carelessness.

"Really? I might just drop by; see if they're any good. I hear the ones here are wimpy compared to Tampa's." That was just the thing to say.

"Nuh uh! My uncle trained one bigger'n everybody's! It's gonna kill that other one so fast you won't believe it!"

The blonde laughed caustically.

"He trained it? You can't train a fighter. They're just born with it." He took a menacing step towards Dana, speaking evenly but cruelly.

"Roy Eberhardt wasn't born with it."

"What? Who?" Dana's eyes widened, he looked for a way to escape.

"Do you always pick on kids who seem alone, or are you just a sadist?"

"Roy? That loner twerp weren't worth nothin'. What's it to you?"

Now Mullet was holding Dana up by the front of his stained tee shirt.

"It matters a lot to you, now I'm gonna smash your head in for it." The boy was sweating and begging now.

"Hey man, I ain't never crossed you."

"Just don't mess with him again, you bastard, or I'll pound your skull