Oh my goodness, thank you guys so much for all the views! 100+! That's amazing! It makes me feel special in a way. I'm trying to write as fast as I can because I know we all get peeved at those writers that take forever and a day to write a new chapter. Sorry...
Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Flies or the story that I tell near the end of the chapter.
Warning: This chapter is rated T for language.
Note: Please review. It helps more than you can imagine. Also, the story I tell at the end is not for the faint of heart. A guy friend thought it would be funny to tell me the story and I honestly haven't been able to sleep since September 28...go ahead and laugh but it terrified the crap out of me and I already have anxiety!
I would like to thank Pandora, specifically Disney, Wicked, Hairspray, and Glee radios, for helping me through this chapter. A WHOLE NEW WORLD...
R&R and I will love you more than I already do! Thank you!
Chapter 2
It seemed like an eternity, falling from that high. Behind us, we could hear the screams of some of the boys as they jump or are pushed from the plummeting plane. A few seconds pass before I hear a humming sound. What is-BOOM!
My thoughts are cut off as an explosion rings through the air. I wince as a shrill scream erupts from my best friend. I glance over to see a huge gash across her left arm and most of her chest. Seconds pass before we finally hit the cold, uninviting water below us. I kick my way up to the surface, bursting through to the humid air. I quickly gasp, thrashing around to find Gracie and Beth, who both surface soon after, gasping for the burnt air. I swim over to Beth and hook my arm around her waist to support her. I turn, looking for somewhere to swim to. My heart leaps for joy as I see a shore, only a kilometer or so away. I motion for Gracie to swim toward it and she nods, turning toward it.
As we reach the shore, I crawl, dragging Beth behind me. She coughs between her screams of pain. A few minutes pass before the screams stop, replaced by silent sobs into my shoulder. My stomach tightens with every shudder that ripples through her body. Her breathing finally calms and I sigh. Gracie tugs on my wet shirt sleeve and I turn.
"Avy, how are we gonna get home?"
"I don't-" My words are cut off by the loud, strong sound of a trumpet, or something very similar. When we heard the noise a second time, I stand up, holding out my hand for Beth.
"Where are we going?" she croaks, her voice ragged from her screams.
"That way. I want to find out what that noise was." I answer. She groans, but takes my hand and I help her up. We walk along the shore in the direction of the noise. As we reach the top of a hill, I see a head of familiar golden blonde hair and my heart leaps.
"Ralph?" I call, hoping he'd answer.
"Avy? Is that you?" he says, turning toward us. He runs to help me with Beth and Gracie grabs hold of my now vacant arm. He leans her against a tree in the shade. I remove my shoes and backpack, do the same with Beth and Gracie, and set them beside Beth under the tree. Over the hill, I see a group of boys approaching the spot we're standing in. At the head of the pack, I see a tall, red-haired boy.
"Ralph, who are they?" I ask, pointing toward the oncoming herd.
"Oh, that's Jack and his choir." he answers, looking back.
"Choir? I didn't know the academy had a choir."
"It's for any of the guys not in rugby or extra guard that want to get off campus. I think a couple of them can't even sing. Oh well, it wasn't my choice."
"Ralph, if I may-" suddenly says a short, large boy whom I hadn't noticed earlier.
"Addison! Was that you that blew the trumpet? Where the hell did you get a trumpet?" the boy named Jack shouts. He halts his choir, causing murmurs to erupt from the ten or so boys behind Jack. A small boy on the right side of the choir suddenly falls to the ground, earning an uproar from the boys.
"Oh, just put him against the tree in the shade. Always pulling a faint, that one." Jack orders, groaning. A couple of the older boys drag the unconscious boy into the shade, dropping him rather roughly.
"So, Jack, it wasn't a trumpet. It was this shell." Ralph answers.
"It's called a conch. My auntie says that if you blow in this end the right way, it'll make a beautiful noise-" the boy from earlier says, getting cut off by Jack.
"You're talking too much. Shuddup Fatty!" he taunts.
"His name isn't Fatty! It's Piggy!" Ralph shouts, laughing all the while. My stomach clenches at the sound of Ralph teasing such a seemingly sweet boy. I watch as he runs away in embarrassed shame.
"Stop it! Stop it all of you! I can't believe you all, how rude you're being!" I shout, turning to look every single boy in the eye. They all lower their heads in shame, except for two. Jack and another older boy laugh and Jack steps forward so that he is within centimeters of my face.
"Stupid bitch, you can't stop us." he growls, slapping me hard across the face. I hear everyone gasp and I turn to face Jack. I grit my teeth and bash the back of my hand into his cheek, making a louder noise than even I expected.
"I may not be able to stop you, but I damn well won't stand for it." I bark, not waiting for another response. I turn on my heel and follow the boy to talk to him. I finally find him sitting on the shore a couple meters away.
"Hey." I say as I finally reach him. He glances up, then resumes playing with the sand beside him.
"Are you here to make fun of me too?" he whispers. My heart breaks a little as I watch a tear slip down his nose and into the sand below.
"Of course not. I would like to know your name." I say quietly.
"Haven't ya got ears? You heard them back there. It's Piggy." he answers coldly. I shake my head.
"No silly. That isn't your name. I want to know your actual name." I reply. He looks up at me and I sit down beside him.
"Nathaniel. Nathaniel Swinson. But it doesn't matter 'cause everyone is gonna call me Piggy anyway." he slumps.
"I won't. I'm Avy. And trust me, Ralph isn't going to get away with this without a little guilt trip and torture." I smirk. Nathaniel laughs and I get up.
"It was nice to meet you Avy. Thank you." he says.
"It wasn't a choice. I had to. It was what was right. And if it involved slapping that awful Jack in the face, I was on board from the moment I could." I chuckle.
"Pardon me, but I've got to go check on my friend. Bye, Nathaniel." I say, turning to go tend to Beth. She hadn't moved from the tree she was under. Gracie was sitting next to her, holding her hand. When she sees me, she sits up a bit straighter.
"Avy, she's still bleeding. A lot." Gracie says, concerned. She motions to Beth, who is breathing heavily. I bend down and take off her blouse, leaving her in her undershirt.
"What're ya doing?" she rasps, coughing.
"Making bandages. It'll help the bleeding. Gracie, please go ask Ralph if he has any water she can drink. You, stay still while I get salt water." I order, pointing at Beth. Gracie nods and scurries off to find Ralph. I find an empty coconut shell on the shore and fill it with ocean water. I wash the dried blood away from her wounds and dressed them with strips of her blouse. Gracie finally returns with two coconut shells full of water. She gives the first one to Beth, who happily gulps it down. She then offers the second shell to me.
"You drink it hun. I'll be alright." I say.
"I've already had one. Ralph said to give it to you." she replies, handing me the shell. I take it from her and drink the cool liquid, not realizing how dry my throat was. I thank her. As the sky began to darken, we decide to go find the boys. We find them in a circle around a fire. As we get closer, I see something on a rack above the fire.
"Ahh, the ladies finally decided to join the party. We were just about to slice open the catch of the day. Have a seat and relax." Jack says, conveying his apparent lack of anger toward me. Ralph pats the space next to him and I sit. Beth and Gracie sit in front of me on the surprisingly soft grass. Jack distributes the meat to everyone. As he hands me my portion, he hesitates to release the meat until I meet his eyes. I lift my head to look into his eyes. They were a deep, rich brown that looked black in the shadow of the fire. He mouths an apology to me, then hands me my food. I nod, thanking him for the apology and the food. As we near the end of eating, a younger boy asked if we could tell stories. An older boy replied that we could tell stories only if they were scary. I've got to admit, I clung to Ralph throughout most of them. But as soon as the twelfth story ended, Ralph announced that this next story would be the final story.
"I think Roger should tell a story. He can really get the adrenaline going." Jack suggests. Ralph shrugs, sitting down. An older boy across the circle clears his throat. He was one of the boys from the corridor when we arrived at the academy. He finds my eyes, staring at me as he begins.
"This is the story of Drip, Drip, Drip. I guarantee none of you have heard this before. It's a true story. There once was a little girl. Her mother was an Italian model, gorgeous as anything. Her dad was in the British army. The little girl was the spitting image of her mama with a hint of her daddy. At age 3, the girl's mother died of overdose. Her father took off from the army to spend time with his daughter. When she was 12, she got a puppy that made her feel safe and not so alone. She would have her dog lick her hand every time she wanted assurance and a safe feeling. A year later, one night, the girl's father was at a party and she was left alone at home. She left her dog on her bed and took a shower. When she returned, the dog was already under the covers, so she hopped in bed and reached under the blanket and the dog licked her hand. She had dozed off and suddenly she heard a faint drip, drip, drip. Confused, she got up and checked the bath and sink faucets in the two bathrooms. No longer hearing the dripping, she climbed back in bed, letting her dog lick her hand again. Not two minutes later, she heard the noise again. Drip, drip, drip. She got up a second time and checked the kitchen sink. Not being the source, she went back to bed. Once more, she let her dog lick her hand. She began to doze again when for the third time, she heard the drip, drip, drip. She gets up and goes to check the last possible place that the noise might have been coming from: the sink in the basement. She turned on the light and walked down the stairs. She checks the faucet to the sink. Still hearing the noise, she decides to go back upstairs and turns around. She once again hears the drip, drip, drip. She looks up from where she heard it and sees the bloody carcass of her dog, dripping blood. Drip, drip, drip. On the wall behind it, written in blood, read four words: PEOPLE CAN LICK TOO."