Only one more real chapter left, guys! Chapter 12 is just kind of an epilogue, and I've already written it. It's pretty short. But anyway, everything's going to be all sorted out in the next chapter, so it might be a bit long. Hope you guys have enjoyed reading it, I've really enjoyed writing it!

--melancholyXdreams

Two weeks after the treehouse incident, the guys and I hadn't seen hide nor hair of Ace and his buddies. Even Billy had become unusually compliant at home, and hadn't laid a hand on me or Vern since I'd gotten my head hurt by Ace. Mom and Dad didn't' think anything of this different behaviour, but then again, my parents never really noticed much, which was usually why Billy got away with his shit in the first place.

On a Friday afternoon, when it was so hot, you felt like you were gonna choke, Vern, Gordie, Teddy and I headed to Chris's to see if he wanted to go swimming at the river with us. It was going to be a long walk, but the end result would be worth it. We walked up the dusty side street to Chris's house, kicking up rocks and sipping from our Coke bottles. I put mine up to my forehead to give me a quick cool-me-down.

Heaving a big sigh, I said, "Seriously, guys, I think it's hotter this summer. And we all remember how hot THAT was!" They all nodded fervently. Out of all of us, Teddy seemed the most miserable. "This hair," he grumbled, taking a swip at his heavy bowl-cut mop. "And these glasses," he said, pushing them back up on his nose that was slippery with sweat. I gave him a sideways grin, and he gave me a quick punch on the shoulder.

I pulled my messy hair into a ponytail, and let me tell you, it felt so instantly good not to have hot, sweaty hair on my neck. We eventually came up to the Chambers's house, and his younger brothers and sister were playing quietly("Too quietly," I thought.)on the front lawn.

"Hey, guys. Where's Chris," I called out. Little Deobrah gave her big brothers a scared glance. I got a nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I saw my friends give each other looks that told me they were afraid too.

The middle boy, Emery, said in his soft voice, "Ma went to visit Aunt Mary, and Chris was suppos' to watch us, but...," he trailed off, and looked towards the small shabby house that those kids called home. "When was the last time you saw him," I asked, the fear inside growing every second. There was something very wrong about this whole situation.

"Chris gave us lunch about an hour ago, then we went to Johnny's house, and we just got back," Emery recited. "You haven't gone inside," I said, rushing for the front door. I also noticed that Mr. Chambers's old Ford truck wasn't in the gravel driveway.

"Oh, shit!", I shouted. "Chris!" I threw open the door, where it fell of the hinges with a shriek, and bounded up the stairs to Chris room like a scared deer. His door was open, and the room was pitch dark, but for a bit of faint sunlight entering the window from the backyard.

I saw him. He was beside his small cot of a bed, crumpled in a heap under the window. I immediately started crying. "Chris! "Oh, God. Chris," I sobbed, running over to him and flipping him over on his back. My tears started falling thicker and faster, landing on Chris's dirty white t-shirt. His face looked like mashed hamburger, and there was a bloody gash on his right arm. I sat down hard on the floor, frozen in shock, not knowing what to do except hold my unconcious friend's head in my lap. Gordie took over, feeling for Chris's pulse. "He's still breathing!", he announced. "Vern, go call Dr. Parker's for an ambulance. We gotta get him fixed up, and get him to the hospital."

Three days later, the guys and I were finally allowed to visit Chris in the hospital up in Portland. Gordie's mom drove us all up in her Corvette, insisting the whole way that Chris was going to be just fine. It seemed like she was trying to reassure herself more than us. I guessed this accident brought back memories of the previous year when Gordie's older brother died. I gave Mrs. LaChance a quick squeeze on the shoulder from my spot in the front seat, and she gave me a watery-eyed smile in return.

Portland General was huge. My friends and I weren't used to such a large amount of people around at once, so we huddled together in a tight group while Gordie's mom told the receptionist who we wanted to visit.

"He's down this hall," she said, ushering us all like a mother hen. "Room 128." I was scared to see what he looked like. "Gordie!", I whispered frantically. "He's gotta look better than when we found him, right? I mean, he looked really bad." Gordie shivered, remembering, then said, "Of course, Alice. The doctor's would've put bandages and stuff on him to help his face and cuts." I sighed. "Poor Chris. I want to kill that bastard for doing this to him." Gordie eyed me. "Now we don't know it was his dad that did this." My voice grew louder. "Oh, come on LaChance. Who else would've?" He shrugged, and followed his mom into Chris's room.