I sat in the tree house silently watching Chris and Teddy play a game of cards. Gordy had already been dealt out of the game. That boy was never too lucky at card games. I loved cards, but never played. The guys usually bet pennies, and I didn't have a penny to spare. Sometimes Chris would let me assist him, but that stopped after Teddy said it wasn't fair since two heads were better than one. Honestly, half a head was better than Teddy's whole head. He wasn't a complete idiot or anything; he was just crazy. That affected his card playing skills and just about every other aspect of his life.

Chris looked at me over his hand of cards. It never used to bother me when Chris looked at me with his piercing, ever-knowing gaze. At least it never really bothered me until recently. It felt weird now. It used to feel as if we were connecting. Truthfully, Chris and I had always been connected. People in similar situations tend to connect.

Chris came from a bad family just like I did. Mr. Chambers was an alcoholic who was usually on welfare. Instead of using the money to feed his family, he spent it on alcohol. Mrs. Chambers would leave for days at a time to go to her sister's house leaving her 5 kids to fend for themselves. Chris' brother Eyeball was your everyday thug, going down the same path as his fathers. Everyone expected Chris to turn out like the rest of his family, so did Chris.

As for my family, everyone in it was equally messed up. My mom overdosed on prescription pills when I was six. She found out about my dad's affair and decided life wasn't worth living, or so I assumed. My older brother and I were the ones who found her. It really messed him up. Recently he'd been pretending he was some bad-ass hanging around Chris's brother and Ace Merrill. I'm not really sure how my mom's death actually affected me.

Soon after she died my dad married the woman he had an affair with. My dad was usually away on business and my brother tried to stay out of the house. This meant I had to spend all my time with my new stepmother and step sister who both hated me like poison. My very existence seemed to aggravate them. Whenever my dad came home I would be severely punished for how I behaved around the house and the horrible acts I had committed with that "Chambers boy".

You see, my stepmother hated Chris because she thought that I was a slut and the two of us had had sex numerous times. Just for the record, we hadn't. In all honesty, the only constant in my life was Chris. Chris and I became friends before my life went to shit and before Chris' dad started becoming a twenty-four hour drunk. We sort of helped each other through all the bad times.

Chris was the one who came up with the idea of sleeping in the tree house during the summer. Every summer from the time I was ten up to this summer I had slept in the tree house. It was hell when I came home at the end of the summer. My stepmother was a big woman. She knew how to hide a kid just like a man. No one ever went out looking for me during that time though, so for three months I didn't have to worry about my stepmother, or my dad, or anything really.

The only problem with sleeping in the tree house was that I didn't get the pleasures of bathing all that regularly. My hair was knotted up and caked with dirt. My face was covered in dirt too. I felt slightly ashamed. Maybe that's why it was awkward looking at Chris. I mean, what else could it be?

I looked up and realized Chris was still looking at me, with a bit more concern on his face. I once read a book that said people who go through traumatizing experiences can sometimes become slightly or extremely catatonic. Meaning they don't respond to anything. Ever since I told Chris about that, I think he started making sure I wasn't showing any signs of becoming one of those people.

I returned his gaze, my eyes saying, "I'm fine. Stop worrying." Then I dived back into the book I was reading. Less than thirty seconds later a knock sounded on the trap door to the tree house. I didn't even look up from my book. I could already tell it was Vern. He was the only one who wasn't already in the tree house, and he was the only one who could never remember the secret knock.

Slowly, Chris, Teddy, Gordy, and I moved the card table and chairs to open the door for Vern. As everyone resituated, Chris turned to me and whispered, "When was the last time you ate?"

Oh, so that's why he looked so concerned. That was another problem that came about from living in a tree house when you were too young to get a job. Food, or money for food, was difficult to come by. I looked up and whispered, "I dunno. I had something yesterday."

Chris sighed, but before he could say anything Vern started talking excitedly, even though he was out of breath. The idiot ran all the way from his house, which is about a mile and a half away from the tree house, during one of the hottest summers Castle Rock had ever experienced. The guys had to sing a few lines from "Sorry (I Ran All the Way Home)" just to piss him off a bit. I just stared at him incredulously. "Jesus, Vern," I said, "you're lucky you didn't die of heat stroke half way here."

"Will everyone just shut up! Sincerely, this is important," he yelled dramatically.

"What is it Vern? Did your balls finally descend?" I asked with mock curiosity. This inspired a nail screeching laugh from Teddy, a chuckle from Gordy, and a gentle punch of approval and a laugh from Chris. Vern just glared at me.

"Fine," he said defiantly, "if you guys don't care, I just won't tell you. It's your loss anyways."

Chris rolled his eyes and asked the question Vern had been waiting for, "What is it?"

Vern immediately forgot about all the crap we had been giving him and jumped into his story. Vern's penny search had lead to him hearing the location of a corpse. Ray Brower, a kid our own age, a kid we had heard about on the radio, was now lying lifeless somewhere on the Back Harlow Road. As soon as he finished his story I could see the gears turning in everyone's head. The lies we would have to tell parents, how long it might take to reach the Back Harlow Road and the possibility of becoming famous for finding the body were all discussed.

I sat listening silently. The more I heard about this little adventure, the more I didn't want to go. I mean, none of these guys knew what they were getting into. They only saw a foot in front of their faces. It was impossible for them to see how this experience might completely mess them up in the future.

Of course, I couldn't say any of this out loud without being called a pussy and proving I wasn't tough enough to hang with them. They'd just tell me not to go if I was so incredibly worried, but that wasn't an option. I couldn't stay cooped up in the tree house for the last few days of my freedom wondering what the guys were up to. Plus, I didn't like the idea of all of them being so far away. It made me feel unsafe.

Suddenly, everyone stopped talking and looked at me. Gordy repeated himself, "Ellen, are you gonna come?"

I sighed before saying what I knew I was going to say all along, "Yeah, of course I'm going."