Disclaimer: I own neither the Underland Chronicles, nor any miscellaneous tidbits or references I may use in this piece.

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All proceeds go to no one, because there aren't any.

Chapter

3

Gregor lay on his back in the shade of a tall tree. He had recently taken to this during lunch period. He would shovel down his food and just walk outside. It was better than having to deal with the noise of the cafeteria.

He studied the clouds passing by overhead. In the Underland, the clouds had been the last thing on his mind. In a way, they still were. He simply stared unfeelingly at the shifting masses of wet fluff as they drifted along at the behest of the winds.

Gregor closed his eyes, almost nodding off until he heard three boys approaching from the direction of the cafeteria. The noise of the grass being disturbed by their feet alerted him to their exact size and temperature. His echolocation was still good, at least.

He kept his eyes closed even as they stopped right next to him. There was a large one, a small one, and one somewhere in between. The in-between guy seemed to be leading the other two, almost as if they were a gang.

"What's wrong, Gregor?" the small one said sarcastically. "Why don't you go in there and join all those friends you don't have?"

The other two chuckled at this amazing insult. Gregor suppressed the urge to scoff.

"Hey, maybe we should find him a dead bat. Make him faint again!" The big one said.

"No need to be rude, man." The leader said. He returned his focus to Gregor. "We thought you looked lonely, so we decided to, y'know, hang out with ya."

"That right?" Gregor asked. "Don't you have an image to maintain? Why would you three want to tarnish that by being around someone like me? We all know I'd make you look bad." He opened one eye and peered at the three as their expressions shifted. "Or are you not the village idiots you make yourselves look like?"

They were still smiling, but not as wide.

"Now that wasn't very nice, Greggy-boy." The leader knelt down, bringing his face close to Gregor's. "Why don't you say it again?"

"Gladly." Gregor launched to his feet, nearly head-butting the leader on the way up. The three flinched. "You three don't scare me. You're just a bunch of petty jackasses who don't measure up," he tweaked his pinky, "so you take it out on me." Gregor lifted his arms to his side. "So go ahead. Take out your frustrations."

"You little bitch!" The big one took a swing, which Gregor easily blocked. He stepped back and kept an eye on his three opponents. They flanked him, and Gregor felt some hope. Maybe they weren't completely stupid.

They all came at him at once. Gregor mostly dodged and blocked the assault, but he could feel the rage welling up inside him. It was strange; this was the first emotion he had felt in two weeks.

It dawned on him: since he had used the rager side to eradicate his emotions, anger was all he could feel anymore. If he were able, Gregor would have felt fear and worry.

The rage engulfed him as a kick came seriously close to his face. All he could do was watch as his limbs became instruments of torment. He hammered the three boys into submission with quick, imperceptible strikes.

Finally, someone caught him from behind and put him in a hold. Gregor almost flipped the mystery person, but the grip was strong. He could feel his rager side subsiding, and he realized that the person holding him was Mr. Langford, the track coach.

"Gregor, what the hell are you doing!?" he shouted.

Gregor could not respond, mostly because of the hold but also because the anger wasn't gone yet. When it finally disappeared, he went slack and nearly blacked out.

"Hey, hey, hey!" the coach said. "Keep it together, Gregor!"

He was half carried into the school. He could feel dozens of eyes on him, dozens of voices relaying their own stories as to what had happened outside. The trip was a blur until he heard the sharp voice of the principal in his left ear.

"Explain," she said shortly.

Gregor heard three other voices crop up immediately, accusatory tones from each. He lifted his head in time to see the principal raise her hand, silencing the three boys. He finally got a good look at the gang of misfits he had pummeled. It was bad, but not bad enough.

Gregor shook his head vigorously, trying to get rid of the murderous thoughts in his mind.

The same hand that had quieted the others came down to point at Gregor.

"You. Explain."

He had no words. Nothing to say to this person who was glaring at him venomously. He locked his eyes on his shoes and steeled his face.

She sighed and motioned for everyone else to leave. One of the delinquents looked like he wanted to protest, but a single glance from the principal stopped him up.

Once they were alone, the two simply stood there for a long while.

"What happened, Gregor?" she finally said. "I've never had so much trouble from you. What did they do?"

"Nothing," Gregor said. He had no intention of prolonging this conversation.

"Did they attack first?" she asked.

He did not reply.

"They did, didn't they?"

Nothing.

"Gregor, I can't help you if you don't pipe up! Come on, I'm just trying to-" she stopped short. "Oh, Gregor."

Her hand came up to brush a tear from his cheek. The contact made him jumped. He almost slapped her hand away. The strain had been too much for his mind. He had cried from the sheer amount of hatred.

After another moment of stillness and silence, she spoke. "You know I can't condone this, Gregor. I'm afraid I may have to expel you."

Gregor tried to feel outrage. Injustice. Fear. Anything. He could not. He simply met the principal's eyes and held her gaze. She seemed sad and uneasy. "I understand," he said.

She looked concerned, almost as if this were the last thing she expected to hear.

Gregor's mother was talking. Words were definitely being said, some less friendly than others. His father chimed in here and there, too. None of it made it to his brain. He could see Lizzie and Boots peering in at him from the living room. He could not meet their eyes.

After a long pause, he heard his mother sigh deeply. He had caused her undue stress. He should feel bad about it. Horrible, even. But he didn't.

"What will we do now?" she said.

"I don't know, Grace." His dad replied. He looked terrible. Almost as bad as the day they brought him out of the Underland. His sickness was gone, but sometimes the frailty came back.

Gregor had thought about this since he saw that bat on the science table. No, since he left the Underland.

"I don't belong here," he said. "But I don't belong down there either. Wherever I go, I cause suffering. Everything I do, I end up destroying something. Hell, I even 'killed' myself back in the arena." He met his parents' gazes. Even as the words formed in his mind, he knew he should never utter them. But they surfaced of their own accord. He had no control over the words that left his mouth next. Like he didn't know the pain they would cause.

"Maybe I should do it for real."

As it happens, this chapter wasn't as good as the previous. But hey, you know how it is.

I think I have an idea of what to do next. I am still open for suggestions, though.

Hope you enjoyed. Run like the river, yo.