Chapter 1: When the Weather Was Nice
The sky was warm and the weather was pleasant, and the sand absorbed its heat, transforming it into a consopite. If one were to lay upon it, it would be easy to understand, possibly, why he had been lying there for so long. He assumed that he had the chills of the tide lapping gently against his legs what was eventually roused him from his unconsciousness. When he tried to move, his muscles seemed hesitant to cooperate at first-but they were quickly soothed by the shade of the palm fronds swaying slowly above him and the wind that brushed over his skin every now and then.
His rise from the beach was slow. He was still groggy and confused about the circumstances; his school sweater was still on his body, his hair was still swept-but if that was the case, then why was he not at school? He tried to recall the last thing he'd done before ending up on the sand beneath him, but all he could remember was the interior of an aircraft, and then his memory seemed to struggle to draw anything more.
Picking himself up, he steadied himself on his legs and dusted off some sand clinging to his sweater sleeves, before looking up at the landscape before him. The fair-haired boy had never quite seen something like what was before him-the sandy earth was caked by layers of luscious grass, and blanketed on top of that was mats of undergrowth entangled among taller, more advantageous plants. Intermixed with the shrubs and the bushes that coiled around each other and other various plants were little, bright flowers, mostly white; but he was able to spot a cluster of pink ones, and a few standalones of other various colors, which multiple insects delighted upon. To add to the chaotic growths, the tree trunks of palm trees sprang from the ground, a beautiful, golden-brown color, their fronds flapping freely, slowly, in the short bursts of wind that passed the area every now and then. However the palm trees only managed to extend their reaches for what must have been around ten or so feet back into the forest-for then they became more scarce, and tamer, indistinguishable-type trees overpowered them and reigned victorious over the forest.
One of the things that caught his eye the most was what as positioned above the canopy. A sylvan mountain, similarly enveloped in foliage, stood proud against the blue horizon. In spots where the leaves managed to not encase the mountain, the fair boy caught sight of sheer, large faces of red and gray rock. If one were to climb it, he guessed that either the parts of the mountain he could not see were hopefully more of a gradual slope, and that those would have to be taken instead, or one would have to brave the patches of steepness.
He narrowed his eyes, a sense of both fear and excitement assaulting him. He could not, for the life of him, determine where he was. He longed to return home, to the garden-this place vaguely reminded him of it, but never had the flora been so vibrant and so wild there. However, he forced himself to internally shrug off these feelings and continue onwards. His hope was high for an adult to be around to tell him what was going on. He might not remember what happened because he just still felt a little tired. That must have been it, and then he must have fallen asleep by accident, and then he would just ask a grown-up how to get home.
He had planned to go down the shoreline, but he felt almost as if something was calling him to the jungle, something he could not quite understand. Driven by this instinct, and without anything else to do, he gave in and began to trudge his way through the thicket. It wasn't hard at first, or at least not as hard as he thought it'd be. Certainly the incessant foliage continually slapping him in the face was annoying, but eventually he got used to the pattern of raising his arm to push it back just enough for him to get through. As he continued, though, and the patches of sunlight that fell to the ground became less frequent, and the plants and creepers seemed to try to bring him into their twisted complexions, and the darkness seemed to try and consume him, he soon became aware of how alone he was. He thought it strange that he had not encountered anyone so far, let alone his targeted demographic-the adults. His heart sunk at the thought that perhaps he truly was alone.
"Hey!" a voice called out, from somewhere in the depths of the shadows. "Hold up a minute!"
Although his interest piqued and his hope rose a little, the vague disappointment set in at the realization that the voice belonged to just another boy, picking himself out of the trees. In the darkness, it was hard to get a proper look at his newfound companion. All he could really see was that he was somewhat weighty and wore spectacles that flashed in the eerie darkness, losing their shine whenever his head looked at the ground.
"Where's the man with the megaphone? Have you seen him?"
The fair boy shook his head, suddenly losing interest in this conversation. He'd decided it'd be better to look for the man rather than stand idly by and wait for the other kid to follow him, but he waited for a moment longer so the boy could stand in front of him, still panting and gasping from what he could only deduce was a long trek through the jungle himself.
"Me either," he continued, taking the specs off his face and rubbing the left lens on a part of his windbreaker in one practiced motion. "Then have you seen anyone else? The pilot, maybe?"
Once more the fair boy shook his head 'no'. If he had seen them at all, then he certainly wouldn't be talking to this kid right now. Beginning to further confirm his assumption that this talk was useless, he started away back into the jungle, this time walking to his left so he could travel across it horizontally.
"Wait," a pant came from behind him, and then the crushing of flora as the other boy began to catch up, keeping pace with the fair boy but still trudging along behind him. "What's your name?"
"Ralph," he answered simply, turning around to give him a vague, polite smile before continuing his walk. Admittedly, he was not particularly interested in learning the other boy's name, so he just didn't ask, disappointing him, which was signified by a quiet sigh. He brought a hand up to shove some more leaves out of his way, continuing down the imaginary trail. The earth beneath him was hard to traverse in his shoes-its height fluctuated up and down, ensuring that no step had the same elevation as the last, making the walk a bit disorienting. Creatures fluttered under the foliage as he passed-he caught sight of an exotic bird, marked with black and blue and red, which flew away after he disturbed a bush he passed by. One thing that was a constant, though, and which Ralph doubted he could also make flee were the insects that were creating the constant humming that seemed to be omnipresent throughout the jungle. He hadn't taken notice of it before, and once he did it was almost irritating; so he chose to focus on the path ahead of him instead, which seemed to wind on for quite a while.
"I think this is an island," the now-familiar voice chimed once more. "I was on the beach, and there was nothin' but water for miles. You think there's any grown-ups around here?"
Ignoring his statement since he was now interested in the abrupt stop in the path, he suddenly raced forward. At the end he could see a little cove, and almost instantaneously Ralph was taken by it. He could hear the cries of indignance from behind himself, but his eagerness to see the geography ahead overrode any guilt he would have had of leaving him behind.
Stepping out onto the sand, he was even more pleased to find that the cove secreted a lagoon. The view was, like the first one that he had seen upon pulling himself to his feet on the island, something only akin to a landscape he'd only read about. The sand was crystalline and white, only disturbed by the occasional print of a gull or a twig that had broken off from one of the palm trees that loomed over the area and gave it shade. Gray rocks mixed with the roots of trees sheltered the lagoon, cooling the water and protecting it from the tropical sun. The lagoon waters themselves were a forest green-not really murky by any stretch of the imagination, but also not clear, as the bottom was not seen from all angles. Dapples of sunlight were clearly visible on the surface, sometimes passing over the occasional leaf and flower bud that bobbed and floated in the ripples.
Ralph quickly made his way over to the edge, hardly bothering to test the temperature of the water before ridding himself of his school sweater and putting it on the sand. He figured that, if he couldn't seem to find an adult in a matter of minutes, then it was time to have a swim. He'd always loved that anyways; his father had taken him to swimming classes when he was younger, and he'd taken every opportunity he had to swim since.
"Hold on!" the boy's voice called again, and just as Ralph finished removing his undershirt and shoes, the pants were behind him again. "You can't just go running off like that! I can't hardly run, on account of my asthma."
"Ass-mar?"
"That's right!" he proclaimed, coming off as almost proud. "Can't keep my breath. Runnin' isn't for me. So, please," he finished, wiping his specs off on his windbreaker again.
Ralph shrugged, and added another vague smile. "No promises. Sucks to your ass-mar."
His companion came over next to him and sat by his side in the sand, originally to rest, but it simultaneously served as a silent signal for Ralph to sit as well. He did so, and he liked the feeling of the warmth covering his whole body, like a sunbath. Closing his eyes, he bowed his head and rested his elbows on his knees, trying to savor the feeling of absolute warmth. Next to him, his friend scanned over his bare golden torso critically, and sighed, thinking for a moment before shedding his windbreaker.
"Look, out there," the boy with the glasses said, pointing a finger out at the open ocean before letting his arm fall on his leg. "I'm sure of it, this 's probably an island. See, the reef out there. I ain't ever seen a reef anywhere but an island."
Ralph raised his head in preparation for interaction, screwing up his face against the vivid light and shifting his arms. "Maybe. Do you think that there are others here?"
"It'd take us a long time to look. Jungle's so dark."
Ralph scrunched up his face further and relaxed it. He decided, after all, that he should learn this boy's name, if they were to take the time to look for potential others-that way, if he got lost, he could call out to him in the forest.
"Say, what's your name?"
The question seemed to catch him slightly off-guard, but at the same time it seemed to excite him. Then, he let out a sigh and it seemed the excitement turned into something else.
"Well, as long as you don't call me what they did at school, I don't care what you think my name is."
Now he was interested. "What'd they call you at school?"
There was an embarrassed pause for a moment, and another one of his signature sighs, this time taking on the tone of reluctance. Ralph strained his hearing, almost afraid that he'd miss the nickname if he made any sudden noise.
"They used to call me Piggy."
Everything about the name caused Ralph to erupt in a fit of laughter, throwing himself down onto the sand, muffling his laughs briefly before he turned his head to the side. Piggy sighed through his nose and looked away, the pinkness of embarrassment dusting his cheeks.
"Piggy!" he cried out, and was promptly cut off by another sharp chuckle. "Oh, Piggy!"
"Hey! It's not…" Piggy replied, fumbling with his hands which now bore slickness on their palms, and he tore absently at a piece of his undershirt. "Don't tell the others, please."
Ralph gasped for breath as the hilarity slowly began to wear off, but his grin was still ever present. He decided to express more of his newfound energy, and added his pants and socks to the discarded pile of clothing, plunging himself into the lagoon. The water, just like everything else, was warm, and vaguely reminded him of a spring or a bath. It too served as a consopite, and gradually his excited strokes in the water slowed until he laid sleepily against the lulling waves, so that when Piggy next spoke his voice seemed distant.
"Come on! We ain't got no time to swim, Ralph," he huffed, still annoyed in the aftermath of his humiliation but unable to make the other boy face consequences for it. "I'm sure of it now! We can't pretend forever. Ralph, there aren't any grown-ups here. You see? You and me, we're all alone."
Those words sparked something inside the fair boy, and his eyes snapped open with realization. That was probably true. If an adult had heard them speaking, then certainly they would have already came over and asked them something mundane, like an inquiry as to why they weren't working. Although the fact worried him, it excited him to no end, and all traces of sleep were banished from his body as he hauled his wet body back onto the sand, ridding the grains of dry sand from his legs by washing them off in the water. He grinned with an air of mischievousness and euphoria.
"No grown-ups," he said incessantly, turning his head in Piggy's direction once more. "No grown-ups! That means we can do whatever we want!"
To further demonstrate his enthusiasm, he sprang up and stood on his head in one fluid motion, flinging himself quickly back to his feet and cartwheeling in the water, splashing about. He stopped, looked at Piggy, and laughed again, seeing the look of discontentment and worry locked on his face.
"What, what? Aren't you excited?"
Piggy fumbled with his hands and looked down at the ground.
"No one knows we are here."
Ralph cocked his head, confused. That didn't mean that no one ever would know that they were there, didn't it? As the seeds of worry began to plant themselves into his own heart, he looked for confirmation in his friend.
"But someone will know. Like my dad. He works in the navy. He'll come and pick us up, if this is an island."
"But how will he know?"
"Well, they'll tell him at the airport when he'll ask about us."
"No, no. Didn't you hear what the pilot said? They're dead, Ralph. There ain't no one to tell anyone about us. Besides-they only knew where we were going to. They had no idea about where we are now, because this island wasn't a part of the plan." He gulped nervously, and bowed his head again, as if making eye contact while saying the next phrase made the idea even scarier.
"We may stay here till we die."
That certainly snapped Ralph out of his excitement, and his smile was replaced with a frown. His muscles no longer withheld the energy to play or swim. His gaze fell onto his clothes, and he was overpowered by the desire to wear them again, and so he did. He hurriedly pulled on his socks, and then his undershirt, and then his pants and sweater and socks. Mimicking his mannerisms, Piggy too slipped on his windbreaker again, somehow a little disappointed that he didn't also get to swim in the lagoon, although he knew subconsciously that there was plenty of time for that.
Trying to think of further action, Piggy brought up references to their old conversation about the potential others on the island.
"Ralph, remember what I said, about the others? We need something to call them! So we don't have to look all over that darn jungle."
Ralph's frown deepened at the reminder and he forced himself to think. He'd never had to do such a thing, and he'd never been taught how to do it. He wondered if his voice would be loud enough to carry across the whole island, or if not, even just a small part of it, enough for at least someone to hear. But his thoughts ceased when he caught sight of something shimmering in the water, a stark white against the watery sand of a small alcove of water, separate from the lagoon itself so one could see the bottom of the pool.
Nodding at the white object, Ralph got up and began to walk towards it without a second thought. The closer he got, the more details about it he could pick out-the object was clearly some sort of large, beautiful shell, white with stripes of cream and gold, and on the interior he could see a deep pink color seep onto the outermost edges of its interior. It was topped off with dull spikes, watered down by time spent in the waves. He picked it out of the water, and ran his fingertips reverently over its surface. Behind him, Ralph could hear Piggy shuffle over to examine whatever object he was holding, and then came a gasp.
"It's a conch!" he exclaimed, and Ralph handed the conch over to him to hold, sensing he knew more about the object than he. "I used to know someone that could blow this-had it on his back garden wall, I remember." For a moment he paused, thinking and staring down at the object, before he smiled and his eyes sparkled with an idea. "This is what we can use! We'll call them with this, Ralph!"
The conch was shoved back into Ralph's hands, and his eyes flickered between Piggy and the conch, unsure of what to do. Realizing this, Piggy started again, still smiling with utter glee at his idea. "Right there-see there, at the top? You blow it there, and then-sheeachow! The noise'll get their attention for sure!"
Nodding and beginning to get an idea of what he had to do, he brought the top of the conch, which had a small, visible hole drilled into it by the harshness of erosion, to his lips, and tried to blow into it. It vaguely reminded him of the musicians he'd seen when he went to a concert begrudgingly, although the sound he produced was exactly the opposite of what they had made. It was a low, pathetic sputtering noise, and it was Piggy's turn to chuckle at him. He put a hand to his abdomen, to demonstrate.
"You gotta get the air from down here. And it's gotta be a real strong amount."
Understanding once more, he went for his second attempt, drawing a somewhat surprised jump from Piggy as his try worked and a long, deep, harsh note rang out throughout the area. Some colorful birds chirruped and took off into the sky, as if trying to escape the noise. Over the noise Ralph could faintly hear Piggy proclaim something along the lines of "Just like that!", but otherwise it seemed that all sounds were overridden by the expansive note, and it took so much of Ralph's power that he had to take the object away from his lips to get some much-needed air.
Some shuffling noises were heard in the deep foliage of the jungle, and Ralph turned his attention to a small bit of geography to his right-a gray, rocky platform, shielded by trees and providing respite from the heat. Now that his skin was beginning to tire of the warmth and it became uncomfortable, he decided to take advantage of this, and muttering some warning to Piggy, he ran over to the platform, desperate to get out of the heat, and relinquished under the fronds, clambering atop the tallest part of the rock. Piggy awkwardly took his position at the side of the rock.
"We ought to get their names. Here, that'll be my job."
Slowly but surely, other boys made their way onto the platform as well, admiring Ralph in a certain awe and respect. Most of them were smaller and weaker than him, obviously younger than him by a couple years-the oldest could have been only eight. Piggy went around to each of them, asking their names and repeating them three times in order to remember before moving on to the next. They sat down in a scattered circle about the platform, similarly enjoying the cooling shade. There were only two boys that truly stuck out to Ralph, since they appeared to be around his age. Those were, of course, Sam and Eric, who he doubted that he'd be able to tell apart-the identification of which had already left him as soon as he looked away.
As they settled into the rocks and the vegetation that grew out of them, it seemed that all of those who were going to come to the assembly had made themselves present, and Piggy returned to stand in front of Ralph.
"Alright. I've got all their names. So-what now?"
Ralph opened his mouth to speak, but it closed once he caught the sound of singing in the distance. That was exactly the last sound he'd expected to hear; part of him wondered if it was just his imagination acting up on him, but as he squinted against the heat, it was proven to be true. Along the far side of the beach, a group of larger boys such as himself, Piggy, and Sam and Eric trudged towards them. Their leader seemed to have far more enthusiasm and energy than the rest of them, as they swayed about in the heat, intensified by their black cloaks and and black caps, pinned with silver-however, their leader's was topped off with a golden pin, and he seemed proud to own it.
However, while their steps certainly were not in order, their singing was fine for the most part. He didn't care much for learning the components of music, but he could identify some faulty notes, made in the delirium of the heat. The tune seemed quite generic to his ears, but proud-perhaps he'd heard it at a school assembly or when he'd walked by the music room on some odd occasion.
When the choir got close enough, the boys behind their leader stopped at different intervals, eyes all turned towards the ground, desperate for a rest. But it seemed that their leader cared not, for he stepped forward and focused critical, sunblind eyes on the shaded group. Ralph observed his features with equal scrutiny-his hair was a distinct red color, a particular trait that none of the other boys on the island seemed to possess. His skin was ginger-pale, and dotted with light brown freckles dominating most of his face. The color of his eyes were a sharp, light blue color, one not so dissimilar to Ralph's own, but they did not hold the gentleness that the latter's eyes did; rather, they were replaced with an intensity that the fair boy doubted he'd ever seen.
"Where's the man with the trumpet?" came his first inquiry, and his tone of voice did not betray the potency given off by his appearance. Sensing that he needed to speak up, Ralph replied.
"There's only me."
The choir leader squinted further into the darkness, his pupils now focused directly on Ralph's, judgemental more than ever. They scanned him over briefly, seeming to have decided something as they made direct eye contact once more.
"Well, we're going to need a leader around here," he muttered, mostly to himself, giving no time for anyone to make a reply before he whirled around to his group, and prepared to give another one of his stern orders.
"Choir! Stand straight."
Groaning, the boys begrudgingly stepped back into their places, still swaying underneath the intensity of the heat. In protest, one of them cried out, as Ralph caught sight of one of the boys in particular that looked ready to pass out.
"Please, Merridew, can't we-?"
Before his sentence could even finish, the boy that Ralph had been watching stumbled and fell to the ground like a deadweight, and instantly chatter arose as other members from the choir scrambled to lift him and place him in the shade. Merridew rolled his eyes and directed them over towards a spot, seemingly not caring whether or not any of the boys had objections to be made about that patch of shade being taken. Some of the smaller boys moved out of the way, clearly intimidated by the authority. Their awe was not inflicted by reverence like it was with Ralph-rather, it was simply from fear.
"Well-pick him up! There, place him in the shade over there-"
The ordeal was over as soon as it had finished, with the boy's cloak being removed to help cool him off and his cap being placed on top of it. He looked strangely peaceful in his unconscious state, contradictory to the chaotic chatter that he was blissfully unaware of. Ralph watched him for a moment, taking notice of the fact that he was smaller than the other members of the choir, and his hair longer and coarser than theirs. It was a thick, dark black, a companion to the almond-colored skin underneath it. His face was vivid despite the tranquility of his expression and the fact that his eyes were closed, leaving one crucial detail obscured, but Ralph supposed that he would always see them later.
"Don't worry about him. Simon's always falling over."
"He fell over at the last three concerts. This is no different."
His gaze was torn from the smaller boy when Merridew's voice rose above the insectoid ambience and the distant roaring of the waves.
"Alright! If there truly are no adults here," he began, casting a sideways glance at Ralph as if looking for absolute validation in his words, "then we will have to live here, as a society. And where there's a society, there's a leader." He paused to let his words carry and register across the crowd, which roused speculation and chatter once more.
Merridew let this continue for a few moments, before he decided to make another proclamation. "I ought to be chief. I already control the choir."
"Now hold up a minute!" Piggy's voice cried out, and suddenly the whole crowd had their attention on him. No one had anticipated him to speak in that moment, but he felt comforted by the presence of Ralph and thus mustered up the courage to speak, despite being painfully aware that Merridew's critical eyes were focused directly on him. "Ralph should be chief. He blew the conch. He called us all here, didn't he? Besides, we don't even hardly know your real name! Merridew's your last name, ain't it? We ain't calling anyone else by their last names, so you gotta follow the rules."
Merridew scoffed at this show of indignance. "Why should I be Jack? I'm Merridew."
It seemed as if some of the choir boys were about to agree, but Piggy cut in again. "Well, you're Jack. You gotta play by the rules."
The redhead scoffed again, taking an intimidating step towards the shrinking figure of Piggy, and he smirked. "Oh, shut up, Fatty."
The crowd erupted into laughter, similar to Ralph when he had first heard of Piggy's name-and he found himself laughing along with them. Jack's intimidatory nature withheld a certain quality to it that drew Ralph to liking him; his leadership skills, as well, naturally increased his rank in the hierarchy of popularity. That was what led Ralph to breaking out without a second thought, even though he valued the company of his friend.
"His name's not Fatty, it's Piggy!"
"Piggy!"
"Oh, Piggy!"
Piggy drew back in embarrassment, hiding his face in the palms of his hands as the silvery bouts of laughter continued around him, his visage tinted a sharp pink. He felt betrayed, in a way; but he couldn't convey that now, not here, when he was constantly under the scrutiny of Jack and his judgemental eyes. He looked to Ralph for help, but hastily looked back down at the ground once he realized that he was with the crowd too. The group felt united by being able to share a single target for their joke-it felt as if, for the first time, they were all able to agree on something.
As the laughter died down once more, the matter at hand came into focus again, and Ralph decided to take Piggy's suggestion into account. Jack was certainly an equal to him in leadership, he decided, and he wouldn't feel comfortable in giving in to another person like that. That was, without a doubt, something he'd always hated; just the mere thought of submission to someone around his age or younger was enough to flare his stubbornness and rile some defiance.
"Well, maybe I'll be chief."
"A vote! Let's have a vote!"
"Alright, alright! Raise your hands on who you think should be chief."
The murmur swelled and fell when Jack spoke, and his cold stare settled on the crowd. They stared back at him, expectantly, for him to give the first question. He cast a challenging glance at Ralph before raising his voice to speak.
"Alright. Now who votes me for chief?"
The members of the choir raised their hands, the only exception being Simon, who seemed to just be on the edges of consciousness at the moment. The choir was outnumbered by the larger portion of the crowd, and Jack scowled as it became painfully obvious who the chief would be regardless of what happened next. As the hands of the voters fell, Jack turned to Ralph, signifying it was his turn.
"And who votes me for chief?"
Just as expected, the majority of the lot raised their hands, and Simon, still unsure of what was happening in his waking state, stared confused at the lot of them, his arm unmoving. Piggy watched Jack for a moment before raising his hand too, however it was a hesitant motion, as if afraid that he would face consequences from him for such a decision. Without a count, there was still no doubt about it-Ralph was chief, and it appeared that as Jack shrugged he was trying to shake off the irritation it brought him. If either of the boys shared a similarity, it was that they both did not like to follow the orders of others, a factor that had led the choir master to his position in the first place.
"Alright. I'm chief."
Another cheering emanated from the crowd, secretly pleased that they would not have to follow such a seemingly hard-hearted leader. Some members of the choir remained silent, unable to find respect for the fair-haired boy in place of the choir leader they had known for so long. Ralph watched the redhead in a certain sympathy, understanding the pain of unacceptance. An idea came to him as he cradled the conch in thoughtfulness.
"Jack, you control the choir. You can choose what you want them to be."
Delighted by this, Jack returned the gesture with a pleased smile, ideas similarly flitting behind his pale eyes. "We'll need food. They'll be hunters, that's what."
Once more the cry of excitement came to light-and Ralph found his gaze directed at Simon again. It appeared placid for the most part, not able to empathize with the cheers that surrounded him; but there was also a look of deep-set uneasiness about his eyes, which the fair boy could now recognize to be a distinct brown, the color of dark chocolate, a commodity that Ralph found himself wishing he had at the moment. Simon's posture improved as his consciousness was fully achieved, and he seemed to get a real grasp on the situation, scanning over the people around him with an emotion that Ralph could not properly deduce. Their eyes met for a second, just before the contact broke and he was looking at the next boy, and then the next, and the next.
"We'll also need to explore this place, and see if it really is an island," Ralph continued, nodding with authority, taking center stage once again. "I'll take two people. One of them is Jack, and the other is-"
Immediately a mantra of begs to be the last person picked sounded from all around him, and Ralph knew he had to be careful in his decision. Briefly he considered Piggy-but he wanted this mission to be quick, and if his 'ass-mar' had anything to say about it, then he would probably lag behind them. He needed someone swift and light on their feet, someone inspective and observational, someone who he could trust. He looked upon the smaller boys, and deciding that they did not fit his specifications, he went to choir boys-but they, too, seemed far too foreboding for his likings at the moment, and from the dark caps they looked somewhat brooding. Finally, his eyes came to Simon, and although he passed out earlier, he looked much more comfortable and agile without the cloak and the hat weighing down on him.
Ralph spoke with finality. "And Simon."
Disappointment settled across the crowd, but it was quickly dispelled when the three boys grouped together. This time it was Jack's turn to instigate an announcement, and he stepped forward, brimming with pride and ebullience.
"We're going to see every last inch of this place! We'll be back before sunset, and then we'll decide on the rules. And there'll be lots," he added, smiling. "Lots of rules. We're not savages, after all. And when somebody breaks 'em-we'll decide what happens."
He was met with a roar of approval, most notably from the choir, who appeared to be his biggest supporters. In the midst of all this, Jack turned around and signalled for them to leave, Simon being the first to turn. His eagerness to explore was somewhat a shock to Ralph-even though he hadn't even heard one word from this boy, the small grin on his face was enough to tell him that he was a bit excited by the prospect of discovery, although for the exact reason Ralph had no idea. And so they began to clamber down the rocks and into the jungle that the fair-haired boy had been in not too long ago.
That was, until Ralph heard an indignant cry from behind him, and he lagged behind the two choir boys as they walked ahead for a little and stopped when they realized he wasn't there.
"Ralph! Wait!"
So, that's it then, for this chapter at least. As always, any feedback is appreciated! Since I know that there are often plenty of stories like this, in the sort of "retelling" format that eventually get abandoned, I'll say it here and now-I swear that I will finish this, even if it takes me a long while. I actually already have some of the later chapters written, so that should be motivation enough for me. Thanks for reading and I hope to see you again in chapter 2!
