Chapter 3! Boy am I popping out chapters! Haha, me thinks I need to watcheth the movie again, just because I want to (and that movie love.) I've been reading some really good fanfictions about the Goonies, though some of them involve making out with the guys! It's pretty funny, because I didn't even know what making out was in sixth grade. (If I remember correctly, they are going into either sixth or seventh grade, either way, who makes out that young anyway? Kind of creepy, I think.) Oh well, I'm sure you all have had enough of my ramblings. Erg, my brother says his friends are starting to make out, he's going into sixth grade. I didn't make out with a guy until...ninth grade, I think. Still scary. Oh well. I should probably just shut up now.

"Data, you IDIOT!" Mouth yelled, standing up roughly from his hay bale and nearly overturning it.

"What did Data do?...Oh, S-H-I-T!"

I was suddenly aware of a sharp pain in the area around my collarbone. Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god, I could feel warmth. I could feel warm liquid. I could feel blood, my own blood, dripping down my shoulder. Oh my lord. I reached up and fingered the area. I found not skin, but a jagged tin pinwheel that felt like a ninja star.

Data's can opener.

Bleeding.

I was bleeding, and it was killing me.

I was going to die.

I was going to die here on the train and nobody would find my body and my parents would look for me and no one would ever know what happened. I was going to die and there was nothing anybody could do about it.

I was bleeding, and it was killing me.

"Oh my god!" yelled a voice from outside. Chunk. "She looks so terrible, maybe, maybe if I feed her something..." My vision was blurred, but I pictured him rummaging through his backpack and pulling out a Baby Ruth. I could see him cramming it into my mouth. I could see myself die anyway.

"Get Brand!" Mouth called. "Right NOW! Someone get Brand!"

I could feel myself falling off the hay bale. I was going to hit the ground and die. I waited to hit the ground. But I never did hit the ground, I simply kept falling and falling and dying and there was nothing I could do about any of it.

p i "The little one's alive." /i /p

p i "And the parents: /i /p

p i "The man made it, the woman didn't. Come on, little girl, let's go to the hospital." /i /p

p i "Oh, Mildred, you can be more sympathetic than that. Let's go, sweetie. We're gonna go get you fixed up, ok? /i /p

p i "But I can't leave Mama, you can't leave her here. She has to come too, you need to help her!" /i /p

p i "Sweetie, you need to come, we're here to help you. You'll be fine as long as you come with us." /i /p

p i "I'll be back, Mama. You'll see, and you'll be ok, and wake up, they can make you wake up, you can make Mama wake up, can't you? /i /p

"She's coming about."

That was Brand's voice.

I wasn't dead. It didn't kill me, I didn't die.

I opened my eyes slowly. I was lying down on a hay bale. Someone had removed the can opener, because Data was standing there, looking shocked and a bit green, with the bloody piece of metal in his hand.

That blood was my blood.

I turned away, I was unable to look at it. I felt like if I saw my own blood I would spiral again, I would surely die this time. How did I know I wasn't dying right now?

"God, Luna, I thought you were having a seizure or something," Chunk said. "What happened?"

"She had a panic attack," Andy explained. "She'll be ok, it's all ok."

Brand went over to Data and held out his hand. "Give me the can opener."

Data just stood there, shaking and looking straight ahead.

"Can opener," Brand repeated, his voice shaking a little. "NOW."

Data gave him the piece of metal and collapsed onto another bale of hay, looking very much like he would pass out himself.

Brand pulled the door of the boxcar open and hurled the can opener as far as he could. He watched it until it was just a piece of shrapnel, then slammed the door shut and sat back down next to me, running his fingers through his hair. Andy rubbed his back soothingly, and his face relaxed a bit.

"Is she going to talk to us, or what?" Mouth asked, looking kind of annoyed now that the initial shock was over.

I sat up and propped my head against the rim of the window. I realized that someone had also ripped up bits of cloth from a piece of clothing and wrapped it around and under my arm as a tourniquet. Wait. That wasn't any piece of clothing.

"You used my velour pants?" I rasped. "Those were the only pair of pants I had!"

Mouth breathed out, looking a little guilty and relieved at the same time, but his quickly recovered and looked humorously tough-guy again. "Like we'd soak our own clothes!"

"Show's over," said Brand, standing up. "Everyone back to their respective boxcars."

"We are in our respective boxcar," Mouth told him.

"Er, right," said Brand. "I'll, uh, come on, Andy." So they left.

And I was left alone.

God, was I uncomfortable.

They were all looking at me. Except Data, who had his back turned and was facing the window on the other side of the train car.

I noticed Mikey hadn't said anything throughout the entire fiasco. I made my way to the hay bale upon which he was sitting. "Erm, Mikey?"

He turned away and said something inaudible.

"What?"

"Are you going to die?"

My blood chilled. "Why would you think that?"

"Because you were screaming, 'I'm going to die! It's going to kill me and there's nothing you can do about it!' You're not...are you?"

I sat still for a moment, thinking. "Well, Mikey, let me explain something to you. It's something I've had since I was very small, I am afraid of blood. Because when I was little, I..." I paused, not wanting to relive the moment, but I couldn't back out now. "My mother...was killed in a car crash. My father and I lived, but it was a while before the paramedics could get us out of the wreck. Initially my mother was still alive, but she bled to death. I watched her die. I watched her life pool beneath me, she was gone, it was just...I'm so afraid that..." I stopped talking, I was getting choked up.

For some reason, I turned around. All eyes were on me now, even Data's. "So that's why. Please, don't ask me about it anymore, ok?"

All were silent.

That is, until Chunk got off his hay bale and stood up. "I i really /i need to go to the bathroom."

Ahh, angst. So fun to write. And so hard to figure out what to do afterwards. I'll figure something out, I bet Data can figure out a way to use the bathroom in a train car. Hmmm. I wonder if the cows would mind if...