I'm soo soo soooo so sorry about not updating for a while… I wasn't feeling well and I had lots of homework :( BUT THAT'S OKAY CAUSE OVER THAT PERIOD OF TIME I HAVE GOTTEN REVIEWS! Maureen… yours was just uncalled for… this is why no one was supposed to know I write fanfiction. Shannon… yours was tolerable. Haha just kidding I love you guys. Oh, and to the reviewers who I do not know: YOUR AWESOME! I love you just as much.

By the way, I wrote in the last chapter that Roy has brownish green eyes… well, I wasn't too sure so that was a guess. Later, I looked it up and learned it was a bad guess. Just pretend it says they're blue, kay?

Chapter 10- ROY

So, I might be crazy, but I just had to know. Where were this kid's parents? He had looked so alone, like he needed help. And I knew I could help him, if he'd let me. Sure, I wasn't too crazy about going back to the golf coarse, you know, the bump had faded but there was still the memory of it, but it was the last place I saw the barefoot kid. I knew he lived there, or somewhere near by. So I called up Melanie.

We met at the entrance to the golf coarse, and we dragged our bikes across to the bushes along its perimeter. While we talked, I had a feeling that there was something wrong. She doubted it. She thought I was crazy. But there was something else there. Hesitation? Uncertainty, maybe?

"You don't believe me, do you," I said, shaking my head. She bit her lip.

"It's not that it's just… I… never mind." I wanted to tell her to spit it out, but I decided against it. Let her think what she wants, because I knew we'd find him and prove my sanity.

"Whatever," I said, pushing open a section of the bushes for her. She slipped in and I followed. We had reached the back of a boat, a campsite, it looked like. "Hello?" I called. "Anybody here?" Melanie began coughing and waving away the smoke from a small fire pit in front of her.

"Well, someone was here, and not too long ago by the looks of this fire," she said, but still, she bit her lip, making me feel like there was something she wasn't telling me. I shook off the feeling. Next to the fire were two bags: a white trash bag and a tan sack. Melanie picked up the trash bag and dumped a pair of clothes onto a log. Looking at the clothes, I realized that it must be his campsite, the barefoot kid's. They looked about right. Then, I moved to the leather sack. A mistake. A big one, I now know.

Out of the sack came a bunch of coal black cottonmouths as angry as bees when you've shaken their hive. I heard a scream, though I couldn't tell if it was me or Melanie. Maybe it was the both of us. I pushed her away from me, into the bushes.

"This is not good," I said, staring down at the white bellies of the writhing snakes.

"I wouldn't move if I were you," came an unfamiliar voice from behind me. I didn't dare turn my head to look.

"Wasn't planning on it, not with cottonmouths," I said.

"I want you to step back, real slowly." The voice was calm. Too calm. "On three. One…"

"I don't think so."

"Two…" he continued. I shook my head.

"Nope. No way."

"Three." And with that, I felt arms grab me from behind, pulling me backwards. I knew it was him, the barefoot kid. I felt the sack that had held the cottonmouths being roughly pulled over my head.

"Wait! What are you doing?" I yelled.

"Who are you and why are you here?" the kid demanded.

"Name's Roy," I said. "Look, I saw you running from the school bus yesterday. I didn't come here to hassle you, I just want to talk."

"You're gonna have to get out of here, like right now. Let's go." He pulled me up, being far from gentle. And then it struck me. Melanie. Where was she?

"Alright. But there was a girl. Short. Brown hair. Big eyes. D'you see her?"

"Don't worry. I scared her away. Now get outta here!"

"Alright, alright. But why do you have those snakes in a bag?"

"That's my business and mine only. Just leave me alone," he said.

"Where are you taking me," I asked. The inside of the heavy sack was hot and smelled of what a cottonmouth must smell like, you know, if I knew how one smelled.

"Just walk and don't turn around until you count to fifty. If you ever come back here again you're gonna wake up one morning with one of them big old cottonmouths in your bed. Alright? Now start countin'" He gave me a shove and I could here him running back.

"One… two… three… four… five… six." By the time I got to ten I had given up and pulled off the sack. I wiped the sweat off my brow before hearing the all-too-familiar cries of golfers behind me.

"Fort! Move it, kid!" After that, all I could see were stars. Sure, I could feel Melanie's cool hand touching the spot where I'd gotten hit and, sure, I could hear her voice calling my name, but none of that is any good if I can't respond. Right then, all I could do was sleep.