So…I've decided to make a sequel. I wasn't too sure at first, but eh. The first chapter doesn't include much of the boys, but the next chapter kind of reintroduces them, I promise. Chapter number one is more about Charlie's life at home, so bear with me. It's not the greatest, but it's only chapter one. Reviews? Yes, please.

Most of the crew aboard the ship treated us like we were five. "Are you alright, sweetie?" "Dear lord, you're bleeding?" "Gasp! Is that dirt?"

Yes, lady, it is dirt, haven't you seen it before? I tried my best not to snap at them (and usually I don't try to stop myself), but I couldn't help roll my eyes and insert a snarky remark every once in a while. I calmed down once they brought out the food, though.

The naval officer sat us all down at a long table, assigning us all seats. I got to sit across from Jack, lucky me. The nurses aboard had him wash his face hard with soap first, seeing as how he had the most paint on. He resisted, but only for a few seconds, turning into a prissy school boy. "Yes, ma'am," he mumbled, shuffling over to the bathroom.

Jack couldn't even look me in the eyes. His sight quickly switched back and forth from the crew to the food being given out, passing my face too fast to see. But I made sure he knew was there by giving him a sharp kick every once in a while, followed by a quiet, "oops."

I, admittedly, put loads of food on my plate. Pregnant teenage girl who hadn't seen a real meal in weeks, what do you expect? Anyway, the crew kept mentioning how we all were devouring the food quicker than a pack of wolves and how they were surprised that no one even touched the pork. I think it was safe to say none of us kids were shocked.

After the meal, the crew took us each one by one, asking us for our names and phone numbers to inform our families that we were found. The staff apparently heard of our disappearance and explained to us that we were a big hit in the newspapers and on the internet. About a third of the kids, mostly the younger ones, had forgotten their telephone numbers and their number had to be searched for manually through the directory with only their name.

I had remembered my telephone number, but I pretended that I didn't. I didn't mind if I never saw my family again. "Name?" asked a man holding a pen and notepad.

"Charlie Emerson."

"Is that your full name?"

I sighed, hesitant to give my real name, but decided that they wouldn't be able to find my family with it, anyway.

"Charlotte Jane Emerson."

The man began scribbling my name, and then stopped midway. "You're Charlotte Emerson? From Ohio?"

Crap.

"Yeah, that's me."

"You've been on the news! Oh my gosh- Hey, McKinney! We've got Charlotte Emerson!" he called over to the naval officer that rescued us.

"I thought you looked familiar!" the officer named McKinney said, walking over to us. "Maybe if you cleaned yourself up a bit, I'd have recognized you sooner. I can't believe you survived that plane fall!"

I tuned them out as they babbled on about how many times they'd seen me and my family on the news and all that crap. I just nodded the whole time; I lived the story, I didn't need to listen to how the newspapers portrayed it. After a while, they finally picked up the phone and began dialing away at a news station. I mentally scolded myself for not giving a fake name.

The sailor informed me that the news station was scrounging through their database to find my mom's phone number, for they talked to her numerous times, and he'd put me on the phone with her as soon as possible.

I left the crew surrounding the telephone and wandered around the ship. I passed Ralph getting nursed by one of the babying women, and a littlun on another phone crying to his mom. When I walked further, I saw Roger, sitting alone, sulking in his darkness in a corner. I walked up to him, taking a defiant stand over him.

"What do you want?" he muttered.

"My life back."

"I never took it."

I sent a punch flying across his cloudy, murky face. He was in a secluded area of the ship, so no one saw or heard me. "You took everything from me, son of a bitch."

"Jack took it first."

I punched him square in the face.

"Knock it off!" he yelled, jumping up from his seat and whipping out a knife he was apparently carrying in his pocket. How handy dandy.

"What? What are you gonna do with that?" I asked in a tone that said I didn't believe he'd hurt me. "You gonna kill me, just like you killed Piggy? And helped kill Simon?"

He raised his knife a bit, his hand trembling only slightly, but it steadied almost immediately; he breathed roughly in my face, fire flaring in his beastly eyes. Obviously, he wasn't quite ready to let go of his hunter side. "I didn't kill anyone."

Roger lowered his knife and placed it safely back in his pocket, not taking his eyes off of me for a second. "And that kid's not mine."

"It could be."

"Then get an abortion."

He said it like he was choosing what he wanted for dinner.

"It's not your choice."

"I thought you said it could be mine." I said nothing. "It's not like you want to keep it anyway."

Roger then left, not giving me the opprotunity to beat him up, but I didn't feel like following. I simply walked the other way, fuming.

"Charlotte!" called an officer.

"What?" I snapped, whipping around.

"Control your temper, missy. Your mother's on the phone."

"Please, call me Charlie," I said with fake kindness.

I reluctantly followed him and snatched the phone one of the crew members was holding out.

"Hello?" I mumbled.

"Charlotte!" cried a voice on the other side. My mother burst into tears, sniffling and choking on her own breaths. I waited until she could form human words. "Oh, Charlotte, how are you?"

"Fine."

This was obviously not the answer she was hoping for.

"Charlotte, we have a lot to talk about when we see you. Oh my gosh, I can't believe this! We're still in England, we never left! Oh, I'm so glad we found you! We're going right now to meet you at the docks, okay?"

"Alright."

"Charlotte," she choked out. "I want to talk to you."

"I'll talk to you when I see you in person," I muttered, peering around at all the people watching me eagerly. I hated this mushy crap.

"I love you," she said in an uneven exhale.

"Yeah, okay. Bye, mom."

The phone clinked as I hung up. The whole crew was looking at me, completely flabbergasted and even a bit offended.

"That's all you say to your mother, when you haven't spoken to her in a half year?" one of the women asked, armed with a tissue who was apparently upset that there was no tear-jerking show.

"Wow, a half year, has it really been that long?" I asked in an ill tone and marched away from the crowd.