NaNoWriMo Novel

Prologue

	He was sad, depressed, and alone in a dark alleyway, in the nighttime.  He was just kicked out of his very own house--to be left on the streets.  He didn’t even have a chance to get his money to support him.  Not that he had very much in the first place.  Others at the time would have called him Mason, but he was starting to not like that name very much.  It was always “Mason, you little poophead! Get back here and do your work!” The name had started to lose its beautiful sounding shine of a popular name.
	Since he was kicked out once and for all, he had to do something by himself, not that he didn’t do anything by himself before.  He couldn’t remember anyone who had ever helped him.  Would he go for the “Give me all the power because I never had any before!” or would he go for the “Let me help everyone because I don’t want it to happen to anyone ever again?” He was actually considering both of them.  Others would have gone straight for the power-hungry path.  He was different.  He would think of the best way to go about the situation this time to make a better future for himself.
	He couldn’t ponder what path he would take for too long, however, since he had to do something soon.  It didn’t even matter that what path he took would change his whole life--for the better or worse.  He was just like that--it didn’t matter how much time he actually had, he was going to go his own pace, shaping everything the way he wanted them to be.
	Knowing what to do and getting up to start acting upon it, he noticed a woman limping towards him.  He noticed how he looked like, and made himself look more orderly, though he sure didn’t feel like it.  He wanted to present himself with dignity, even though he had none at the moment.  He waited seemingly patiently.
	It took a while for her to get over to him, but he politely waited for her to come at her own pace.
	She started speaking when she just got close enough for her whisper to be heard.  “I heard that you were kicked out of your house.”  Surprised, he unintentionally took a step back.  But then he began to analyze the situation.  When he was kicked out, there must have been a lot of noise, with all of the shouting going on.  It was reasonable that she would know there was an argument, and she could assume he wasn’t able to get back in, having sat there in an alleyway for about an hour.  How she had “heard” about it, he would wait and listen to figure out.
	“What is your game plan right now?” she asked him.  He didn’t even know who she was.  He was surprised that she would ask such personal information about him.  Perhaps it isn’t that confidential information.  It is meant as comfort, he told himself.
	With a reason to say anything to her, he answered, “I think I will go out into the world, explore it, and do something good for it.  It’s all I can do, anyways.”  Yes, that sounds like it would be acceptable, he thought.
	“Good, good,” she replied.  “These are in good hands, then.”  She stuck her hands somewhere, and brought out a large, dark hand-held suitcase.  She handed it to him.  “Do what you wanted to do, good sir.” She limped away as he held the suitcase with startled hands.
	With no more company, he let his wall fall inside him, and let his curiosity run free.  Upon opening the suitcase, he found that it was stacked with cash--from top to bottom, from right to left, from the floor to the ceiling.  They weren’t even those one dollar bills that made them look like they had a lot of value--they were all hundred dollar bills.
	He took a step backwards, thinking about the situation.  This was a big turn from being kicked out and neglected.  What had the lady said? “Do what you wanted to do,” he whispered to himself.  He had said he would do something good for the world.  He had to stick with it now that he had taken the lady’s investment in him.  He never really knew her.  He wanted to call her back, to tell her his thanks, but, he couldn’t find her anywhere.  He was on his own again.
	Keeping his promise, he closed the suitcase and took it with him to the outside world he never knew, since he was always stuck inside his house doing work.  It didn’t seem that bad.  It turned out that it was almost dawn when he was kicked out of his house.  The sun was now rising, and the first people woke up and started what they did every day, continuing what they loved to do.
	As he strolled down the streets, he saw the fancy clothing shops opening up.  From the windows where they displayed their best items, he saw that their suits and ties were the best he had ever saw.  They didn’t make him want them, though.  He just wasn’t that kind of guy who would give himself anything he wanted just like that.  He had to work for it--and the money he just got wasn’t earned, it was given, donated, to him.  That wasn’t spending money.  It was money for the new cause he was going to make.  He was going to help everyone.
	As he prided himself by not spending his money on anything great in the shops that he had passed, he came across a delightful mansion.  It was huge, and it had a backyard as big as a whole field.  It was for sale, said a sign.  He told himself that it would be the headquarters of the thing he was going to start up, and bought all of it, in cash right on that day.  Sure, the man stared at him as he opened up his suitcase that was filled to the brim with cash, but he got the most important thing of all--a place he could call home.
	After signing the deed and everything, he went inside the mansion to inspect every detail of it.  He still had most of his money, even after buying the whole mansion.  He would hire some people to clean it up for him, to make it look even better--in all the places.  Going out into the city to hire some workers, he picked the best, since the new had to be better than the past, or else everyone would be doomed.
	Everything was on track.  The mansion was looking better by the second, and he still had savings to take from.  The only problem was that he didn’t know what cause to work for.  He wanted his organization to be unique, something that no one had done before.  He walked along the streets and thought.  He saw another that was sitting, sullen in an alleyway.  He seemed to also have a wife that was sitting with him.  He couldn’t let them live even worse than he was.  He had to help him get to a better place.
	He walked up to the man.  “Hello.”  The man looked up.  Yes, he did look very sad.  “Would it be alright with you if I would give you a place to stay and food to eat?”  The man looked at him like it was all a joke.  As if he wouldn’t do what he had just said.
	“I can take you there if you would like to go, sir,” I kept on pressing him.  I was sure that they would regret it later if they didn’t take up his offer.  “Come with me, please.”
	He started walking towards the street, and, sure enough, they started to follow him.  It was a long time of not talking as they marched to the mansion.  When he turned into the mansion, he looked slightly backwards, and saw their eyes widen.  They never would have known they would get to live in a house so big, he thought with pride that swelled in his chest.
	He took them to a room that was close to the middle of the mansion, to make them feel like they were in the middle of everything.  They would get to feel like the mansion was as big as big could be.  He hadn’t even picked his own room yet.  He needed to tend to himself soon.  But not quite yet.  He wasn’t done with his business yet.
	Soon, the couple was settled in, and they thanked him for his generosity.  Every time, he replied with a “No problem.  Enjoy yourself.  This money was given to me.  I now give it to you.”  He liked saying that--the way that he could sound like he was giving his money away, and didn’t care that much about it.  It made it seem like it wasn’t a big deal.  He felt like a big guy now.
	He liked it so much that he decided that he would help a lot of people out of their troubles by taking them in and giving them a place in his mansion.  This will be the cause I will work for.  I will help the ones in need, he thought.  He had first helped the couple called Nemo and Daisy.  Now, he was bringing in even more people who had seen the burning floor.  He helped them up and brought them under his wing that was lined with money.  He had as much as anyone could get.  There was also more funds coming in from a little business he had started up within the mansion.  The people had actually thought of the idea, so he had to give them credit for it.  They had already developed a really techy way to farm and manufacture.  Though some preferred to make some hand-crafted goods, the mechanisms that were invented and kept secret were used the most. They were the big fund raisers.
	There were metal shops, crop farms, and so many other industrious money makers.  He didn’t know how they did it, but it was there.  He had attempted to watch how the mechanisms worked so he could somewhat feel like he was part of it, but failed miserably.  He actually started to fell a little alone, up at the top.  But he didn’t want that to bother him.  He had to keep his promise and use the lady’s money for the good of the people.  The good of everyone.  The common good.  There were a lot of ways one could say what the cause was for, but only one thing it was describing.  It seemed confusing at first, but he got the hang of the organizing and recruitment missions.  Things were running smoothly as smoothly could be in his mind.
	The money from selling the goods were pouring in, getting more money for the future.  The future.  Sooner or later, there wouldn’t be any space left in the mansion.  Where would the new people go then? He supposed that he would have to figure it out later.  At the moment, he was waiting in his new little office to speak in a pre-arranged meeting with Nemo, the first rescue.
	I am really getting that big, he proudly thought to himself.  People are arranging meetings with me.  He knew that he couldn’t let himself get overboard (that’s how all the great people crashed in the end), but it felt great at the moment.
	Nemo came in the door.  “Hello, sir,” he greeted.
	“Hello, Nemo.”
	Nemo sat down at a seat.  “I just have one thing to say to you.”  He cleared his throat.  “I don’t know what I would have done without you.  Daisy and I could have been in a dumpster right now, or something.  I just wanted to say that I would do anything in return, since I owe you so much.”
	The man Nemo was talking to was flattered.  He liked this feeling.  He wanted to feel it his whole life; this “you are a great person” business.  In reality, he wanted to say something extravagant and beautiful, but all he could get out of his mouth was a stumbling “Th-thank you, Nemo.”
	Nemo was already getting up to go back to his own business.  Before he turned around, he asked the man.  “I’m sorry I never caught it before, but what is your name?”
	The man had thought about that question himself for many days now.  He had been thinking deeply about his identity.  His old name was not what he had thought of himself as for many days.  It seemed a little too--he didn’t know--bad.  It reminded of bad things.  Lately, he had judged people by what they did.  It seemed like the way to go--it made things a lot nicer.  He decided.  “My name is Merritt,” Merritt replied.  Merritt was someone now.

Chapter 1

	We turned a corner and hid, flat against the wall and breathing hard while our hearts pounded in our chests.  The baker won’t find us here.  Slowly, we relaxed and sat down with our reward--a beautifully delicious looking loaf of bread.  Joe and I both took a chunk of bread--our rations for this dinner--and started savoring fresh food.  Ever since we ran away from the torturous orphanage we lived in a month ago, we started having to get food ourselves.  Sometimes I thought it would’ve been better to stay just to not have to live on the streets.  No, I reminded myself, I have Joe and we’re best buddies forever and ever and ever.  We’re happy and jolly all the time.
	To attempt to prove what I thought, I thought of my most prized possession, my deck of cards from when I was with my mom and dad.  The back sides of each of them has a glowing smiley face inscribed inside a golden yellow sun.  I took the deck out so Joe and I could stall until it was time to sleep.
I showed Joe my favorite magic trick the tenth time today.  “Is your card… This one?” I pulled out the top card after many complicated folds and deck cuts.  I was correct.  His card was a King, 13.  After that, we played the evening card game, a somewhat modified game of poker.  I searched through my deck and only found single cards until I found a series--4, 5, and 6! It was better than nothing.  We played a heated game, and in the end, I won with those three cards.
	“Hey Jimmy, you know the winner gets breakfast tomorrow,” said Joe as he tried to stop me from jumping everywhere.
	“I know, but I won!” I exclaimed.  I hopped billion hops on a pile of autumn leaves I found in the alley, enjoying the crunch they made under my shoes.  Only after the pile was smooshed into a million flat pieces scattered everywhere did I realize it was nighttime.  It was time to go to sleep.  Though it was getting colder by the day, we still couldn’t find a warmer place to sleep than a drafty alleyway.  You couldn’t exactly get a job to work for money when you are thirteen even if you wanted to really badly.
	We settled down and closed our eyes, huddling together for warmth.  Someday, we are going to do something big and get a nice, warm room with blankets, I thought as I somehow drifted off to sleep, almost freezing to death.

	The next morning, I woke up mighty early to pick up some more food items for breakfast as I promised to.  Scouring on the streets, I tried to find either dropped money or some cheap food.  I didn’t want people to lose too much money because of me and Joe.
	“Hey! You there! Weren’t you the one who stole my bread yesterday?”  The bakery owner started screaming at people to catch me, the thief that didn’t want to be a thief.  A few of the violent kids of the neighborhood took up the call so they would have a reason to bully and hit someone.  They would be able to get away with it later, not me.
	They advanced on me as I stared, stricken.  Recovering my senses, I sprinted away as fast as I could, hearing their footsteps echoing mine.  What will they do to me? I didn’t want to take from him yesterday.  I am best buddies with Joe.  What if he had nothing to eat?
	I ran and ran and ran, but I still heard them behind me.  I was starting to get tired and I realized my hunger.  Joe and I never ate so much that we were full for hours on end.  We weren’t wasteful like that.
	To pump out the last of my energy, I closed my eyes and sprinted.  Maybe that wasn’t very smart because I smashed into a wall and crumpled to the floor.  They would have me now.  I felt a person’s hand squish me.  “Caught ‘ya.” Terrified, I squeezed my eyes tighter, trying--but failing--not to imagine what they would do to me and how I would look like later if I made it back to where Joe was still sleeping.
	It began with a slam, but then it became one big, aching blur as all of them started.  I didn’t know if they would ever stop.  An odd part of my brain was wondering if I would be a blob of jelly with little chunks of white bone floating inside after they were done.  It made me feel so much better about my situation that it didn’t.
	Finally, a million years later, it seemed like they were content with the shape and color of my body features and they didn’t really care about taking me back to the baker, and left me alone next to the wall.  Now that continuous cadence of thumps were over, I started feeling the lasting pain.  I still had to get Joe some food.  Too bad, my body seemed to say, as I passed out.

Chapter 2

	When became conscious again, I found myself lying on something soft and fluffy.  It was as soft as a cloud (if you could touch them, of course), as fluffy as beautifully clean rabbit fur, as evanescent as the morning mist, and as soft as a, my thinking stopped for a moment, bed.  That was interesting.  I was pretty sure I fell asleep on something hard and flat.  Yes, cement.  I reached my hand out to find Joe without opening my eyes because, boy, I hurt all over.  Not finding him, I sighed and opened my eyes to see, not a dark alleyway, but a brightly lit room coated with brilliant light yellow paint.  Even more perplexed, I couldn’t find Joe anywhere.  What happened yesterday?
	Suddenly, everything rushed back to me.  The escape. the crash. the slam.  But what happened after that? I struggled to sit up as I observed my surroundings; there was a comfy twin bed, a study table, a few squishy chairs, lamps, a window, and a bookshelf--as if I was ten and in a good house again.  I heard a door rattle, then open, and saw a man come in the door.
	He was tall and wore a polo shirt, a zip up jacket, and long pants that were mismatched colors, but he held his head purposefully and wore a confident smile that said, “We can do anything together.” He immediately struck me as a trustworthy person anyone could depend on.
“Hey, see who’s finally awake!” the man exclaimed, “My name is  Merritt.  I found you on the street unconscious and looking all bruised up.  That obviously meant something terrible happened to you, so I took you back to my house.  Do you have a home?”  The word “home” spoke dimly to me.  He continued, “Well, if you would like to, you can stay in my house.”
Somewhere to stay, I thought.  I would finally have a permanent place to stay after spending so much time on the streets and in that orphanage.  He smiled sympathetically at me as if he was able to read my mind and asked, “What is your name?”
“My name is Jimmy,” I answered.
“Well then, Jimmy, how are you feeling?” I persistently told him it I felt fine, but, instead of heeding what I said,  he insisted to check every single part of me to see if I needed more medical help.  I gave in after a while, and he found nothing extreme.  Merritt then firmly made me drink his warm beef stew that warmed me to the bone.
Joe would like this, I realized.  “Joe,” I spoke out loud, continually asking myself “How did I forget?”  “Did you see Joe?”
Judging by the polite confusion on his face, I probably should have added more description.  “Um,” I thought, “nice person, not that jumpy, was sleeping in an alley?” I noticed that I never really thought much about how I would describe Joe before.  I guessed I only concentrated on how great it was I had him as a best friend when we were on our own.
Merritt thought for a moment, then replied, “Sorry, I didn’t see him.  I could send a group out to look for him, though.”
That was enough to comfort me.  I felt better because Joe would soon be able to feel fluffy beds, be under warm blankets, and be in a room with no drafts.  I could then move my thinking elsewhere, and I realized another issue.  “Wait--you can send a group? There are more people here?”
He looked thoughtfully at me.  “There are many people I decided to help that are staying here.  This is a big house with a large ‘backyard’ if you want to call it that.  I don’t want to brag that much, but you might see that my ‘house’ seems more like a mansion.”
A mansion.  Those were gigantic.  I wanted to know every detail so I could give Joe a big tour when he came.  “Can I go outside to see?” He thought for a moment, as if scrutinizing me if I was able to walk so soon after I collapsed.  He finally agreed with an “Ok,” and led me to the door that blocked my view of the rest of the mansion.  Merritt opened the door to the outside world.  “You first.”

I was stunned by the simple beauty of everything; the few sun rays poking through the clouds made everything look even shinier, a white circle on a doorknob somehow made the door so much nicer to open.  Also, the paths were straight and obvious, so it was as if you could never get lost.  There were also many people playing games like capture the flag with others or doing activities by themselves.  There was even a metal workshop! It was as if there was a whole town in one mansion.
Once, a person approximately sixteen years old came up to us.  “Hey Merritt, is he a the new guy?” He ruffled my hair and started patting my back, a little too hard.  As I tried hard to keep my balance, Merritt steadied me and replied, “Yes, Owen, this is Jimmy.  Are you doing good practicing?”
“Oh, I’m doing great!” he replied, “So great that I have a senior’s meeting at--” he checked his wristwatch, “oh dear, one minute! Bye, Merritt and Jimmy!” He ran towards his next event with so much speed that even Usain Bolt would be amazed. Later, as I followed Merritt around, I saw a small farm that looked high tech and ready to feed everyone if there wasn’t any food from elsewhere.
“We are pretty self sufficient,” Merritt explained to me, “It creates this tight community where we all believe we will, together, do something great.  It feels nice.” I was sure he showed me every inch--every nook and cranny--of the mansion twice before he said, “That’s all to my little house.”  Boy, he could really understate something as big as his mansion.  He must have known how far off his statement was because he added, “No one should have that much when others don’t have anything of this kind at all.”
Since I learned things about what seemed to be just about everything, the tour was over,  yet I still went out to explore the mansion even more.  I had to really know this place to be able to explain everything about it to Joe.  Then, I would win another “game;” I would know more about this mansion than he did.
While exploring, I examined a curious-looking, artistically and neatly colored sword displayed on the wall.  Its dark blue jewels studded into the handle of the blade that looked like it would have fit someone’s hand perfectly.  The blade, though it wasn’t in use, looked like it could have cleanly sliced a rock in half even if it was only fell one foot to the floor.  I thought it would have expanded the word “sectile” to every object.  What was it, I thought.  It’s a pretty nice decoration if it is one. I forgot what it was for.  I think I have failed in learning to be a tour guide, I thought dryly.  Feeling bad again, I started to walk towards another interesting object.
“It’s a very honorable sword.”
Startled, I spun around and stared at the speaker for a few long seconds.  I might have overdone the staring because we all became startled.  I stumbled for words, “Oh… Um… Sorry… I didn’t know you were--”
“It’s all right.  I should have made my presence clearer before talking all of a sudden,” he apologized.  Still thoroughly embarrassed, I didn’t focus my eyes on anything as both of us searched for words to say.
Attempting to break the silence, he said, “My name is Luba by the way.”
But there was silence once more.
“Did you know this sword is called the Blade of Fire because the wielder back in its good old days used it to hack off the heads of a lot of people?” Luba tried to give the conversation another go, but I found the information a little disturbing.
Nevertheless, I forced myself to attempt to make this less awkward as well.  “Really? Why is this sword here, though?”
“People around here say this sword’s owner is actually Merritt.  I’m not sure why he hacked off heads, but I just know that because some said it was Merritt’s and others said the sword killed a lot of people,” Luba answered.
“I’m kind of new here, too,” Luba added.  This conversation started to creep me out.  I just decided to make a break for it when Luba said, “Can we meet together again sometime? I didn’t make many friends yet.”
With contradicting feelings, the part of me that said it wasn’t polite to say “no” won over the creeped out side.  I said, “Ok.  See you later,” and ran away as the sun set and the day was turning into night.

Since I had nowhere else to go other than the room Merritt gave me, I went there.  Snuggled in my comfy bed, I began to think about Joe again.  Was the Joe-scouting group out there looking for him yet? Even better, did they find Joe yet? The sooner he got here, the sooner he can get a room and we could be together.  It had only been about a day, and I already missed him.  No worries, I told myself, he’ll get here soon.
I took out one of my 52 playing cards to look at it’s shining smiley face again.  Whenever I got sad when I was alone, I took one out to think of the good days again, though I also did like Joe’s company.  The smiley face still had its brilliant and happy smile that had the hope of a better future.  Feeling slightly better, I put the card back into my pocket and turned off the light, hoping to be woken up in the middle of the night even though I was tired, and I started to feel my bruises again, though not as much than the morning.  Maybe Joe would be here tomorrow.

Chapter 3

I didn’t wake up with the news of Joe arriving that night.  Maybe he would get here during the day? I hoped.  I didn’t exactly know where to go--during the tour, Merritt mostly focused on the beautiful sites and interesting parts of the land.  I didn’t have much of a recollection of the places to eat or hang out with someone.  Deciding to wander until I found a kitchen or lounge, I walked in the hallways of the vast mansion, hoping it wasn’t all residential.
Walking in the main hallways, I saw many people going along with their individual tasks.  I wondered where they were all going to.  Are there clubs or something that I don’t know about? The day before, Owen was going to some type of senior meeting.  Maybe there were organized groups.
I heard a “Oh, hi there Jimmy!” come out from nowhere, startling me once again, and scattering my thoughts.  Why am I always lost in my thinking when Luba comes along? It was impolite to be scared every single time one person talks to you.
“Uh, hi Luba,” I greeted him, trying to regain my composure.
“I see you’re a little lost,” he observed.  Was it that obvious? “Here, I can help you.  Where do you want to go?” I’m pretty sure my stomach answered that question well for me when it made a loud grumble.
Luba grinned.  “I’ll show you to the cafeteria.”

I was surprised by how much food was prepared for everyone.  “It’s an all-you-can-eat buffet, Jimmy.  Do you expect a few hundred people to eat one plate of spaghetti?” Luba joked.
A few hundred people? That was a lot.  “Did Merritt prepare all of this?” I asked, confused.  How fast could he work?
Luba laughed.  “No, silly.  Some of the people here could cook, you know? Some help out from time to time and others cook everyday.  They could cook all day if they could.”
The way Luba said it, to me, it sounded like I was a little dumb.  Feeling slightly downcast, I turned my focus to picking the food I wanted to eat.  I didn’t think I saw as much food in one place ever in my life--and none of it was wrongly taken away from anyone.  Joe would certainly love it here.  In the end, I took a few pancakes (I poured a ton of syrup and stacked butter on top of the pile) and a slice of cake.  It was so sweet that I almost choked on it, but I liked things sweet.
Luba, on the other hand, chose the the spicy and salty sausages and the somewhat sweet and sour egg and ketchup.  The flavors of these foods probably leaked into his mouth like a table with a centimeter of water on top of it and a freeze-dried sponge.  The food also smelled better than I have ever smelled food.  I knew that that sounded odd, but it did.  It invigorated my nostrils as a dandelion--one of the most bee-attracting flowers--would to a bee.  It was as sweet as sweet could be--and it was amazing.  When we ate, we didn’t have much to say, so we finished breakfast quickly.  Not knowing what to do, I looked to Luba to declare something again.  He stared back at me, wanting me to decide instead.  After a few long, awkward minutes, he finally decided, “Ok. How about we go to Merritt’s?”
Having no other suggestion, I answered, “Sure,” and followed Luba to Merritt’s place.

	If the rest of the mansion was beautifully and extraordinarily decorated, you couldn’t even find a word for how Merritt’s part of it looked like.  None of the decorations were banal, even in the slightest bit--they were completely new designs.  I didn’t know how it was pretty, but I just knew it was.  Everything just fit together perfectly.  This section was also huge.  The only problem about that was that we had no clue where Merritt was.
	Wandering around the area, I noticed more swords, shields, and the such displayed on the walls.  I wondered how Merritt got them all and why they were displayed so proudly.  Were they all used in the same way as the other one, the Blade of Fire, yesterday? That didn’t make sense to me at all.  Merritt seemed like an honorable person who would never chop off millions and millions of heads for who knows what reason.  Who even has a reason to kill that many people?
	Pondering my many questions, I didn’t notice the voices of Merritt and someone I didn’t know until I was about one foot away from the door of the room they were in.  The only thing that stopped me from interrupting their conversation was Luba sticking his arm out in front of me, holding me back.  I fell forwards an inch, but used Luba’s arm to regain my balance.  Steady, I glanced at Luba and I saw he was already intently listening to their what they were talking about.  If he didn’t want to disturb them so he could listen to them, I guessed I shouldn’t interrupt them either.  It would ruin whatever Luba was doing.  Instead, I stuck my hands in my pocket and started listening in as well.
	“--say it all together? Do you think that would be wise?” the unknown person asked.
	“This is all about unity.  If we don’t have each other, we don’t have anything.  What are we fighting for, Carter?” said Merritt, turning the question back to him.
	“The people, sir.”
	“That’s right,” Merritt agreed, “and what do the people have?”
	“Each other, sir.”
	“Yes. So now that you know why it is so important for this to have the correct meaning, you can now organize this event, yes? Be quick--we must start this event soon.  You are excused.” There was a sound of a chair being slid backwards.
Luba suddenly pulled me backwards, making me stumble with my hands flying out of my pockets, and almost making me fall.  I was about to open my mouth to protest, but it was then that I figured out that the man was going to come out that door--and it wasn’t nice to see someone (or two people, for that matter) had been listening in on their conversation.
We had to run fast, yet not be heard.  Work our muscles hard, yet be afraid to pant even once.  It was hard.  Running disciplined was hard.  Somehow, though, we made it out to the regular areas again.  We could’ve looked inconspicuous if some people around us weren’t staring at us, the ones that barely ran a hundred meters for who knows what reason, yet were panting like a pack of hyenas, with hands on their knees and back rising up and crashing down.
After a while, though, we relaxed and sat down at a table (we ended up in a lounge), thinking about what we just heard.  What wonderful event would strengthen unity within the people in the mansion? Perhaps there would be a type of field day, like at school, where there were different team activities to play, and there was a rotation every ten minutes.  Or maybe a partner competition to see who the best team was and cheer for the others when you lost.  Better yet, maybe it was going to be a three-person team competing for the prize--that way, Luba, Joe, and I could be in the same team (if Joe came on time, of course).  With all these possibilities tumbling through my mind, I, yet again, jumped out of my skin when Luba spoke.  “Is there going to be a battle or something? It seemed like the thing they were planning was a big deal,” Luba darkly thought out loud.
That seemed ludicrous, preposterous .  Events, especially ones aiming to inspire unity, should be cheerful and happy right? Seeing that I had a very different opinion, I didn’t respond.
“Those swords on Merritt’s walls,” Luba continued, “are those really his?” Feeling a little out of place again, I started rocking in my chair.  “If that’s so, is he actually some type of violent guy who pretends to be nice? Everything has a reason.  He must be--” Luba was getting to some very deep conclusions.  Deciding I didn’t want know the big finale of dark things muttered out of his mouth because I was pretty sure nothing would ever be the same after that again, I started to make my getaway.
	“Um. Yeah, that’s nice and everything, but I think I have to go to the restroom.”  When he looked as if he was about to say he could come with me, I said, “Oh, no it’s ok.  I can find my way there.”  Without waiting for an answer, I slid off my chair and fast-walked to the nearest exit of the room.

	Chapter 4

	I thought part of Luba’s dark speech lodged itself into my brain.  Whenever I passed one of those decorative swords, I shuddered a little on the inside.  I thought Luba got it through to me that those swords really did slice off peoples’ heads.  Well, Merritt said it was all about unity right? I reasoned with myself.  But is he a mercurial person who would change how peaceful he was in the blink of an eye? I refuted.  No, that means there must have been a good reason.  Yes, that was it.  It was for the battle of unity and equality.  It was like the American Revolution.  Something was bad, so, to fix it, the people had a war to write over the wrong.
Everything was fine in my little world--everything had a good reason and all the people were nice and happy.  Joe would soon be here and things were going to be peaceful for once.  I took a card out of my pocket to further expand this idea, but I, this time, I was frightened, not reassured when I looked at it.   Right through the jolly smile of the smiley face was a tear.  I tried to put its smile back together again, but it would never be the same again--there would always be a line down the middle of its smile, and it wouldn’t ever have a full-out jolly smile again.  Horrified that my most prized possession was broken, I stuffed it back into my pocket, and searched for another one--hopefully not torn.
Where were my other cards? Though I did have a big pocket, there still wasn’t a reason I couldn’t find a single other one.  But I can’t have lost my cards! I mustered up my courage, and began another intricate search through the only few pockets I had.  Failure is not an option, I thought to myself.  This is like that Apollo 13 space mission… sort of, but not really.  I couldn’t accept the fact that most of the things I had for most of my life disappeared.  All I had left was one torn, sadder smiley face card.  Feeling stupid, I slammed the wall I was walking along, only to be hurt more--this time in both ways, also hitting my bruise.
I wanted to hear someone say that everything was going to be alright, but Joe was nowhere to be found and I just ran out on Luba.  Merritt.  Maybe Merritt could comfort me.  He was comforting the last, last time I saw him.  With my mind made up, I starting walking a purposeful walk--until I remembered that I had no clue how I got to Merritt’s place in the morning.  I was looking too intently at the decoration to remember the route we took to get there.
I decided to wander until I found the place I wanted again.  As I walked, I searched for any sign that I was in vicinity of Merritt’s area.  Having no luck, I started getting side-tracked.  Where were all these people going? Almost everyone was walking in one direction.  Curious, I started following the river of people.  After what seemed to be a long time of people lightly bumping into each other and the constant forward movement of the crowd, the people walking in front of me suddenly stopped.  Unfortunately, I didn’t have Luba here to catch me this time.  I crashed into the person in front of me--hard.
“Sorry, I’m so sorry.  Sorry, sorry, sorry,” I stammered as I scrambled backwards, and bumped into yet another person.  Not very graceful of me.  I must’ve said the word “sorry” a million times, though the people I crashed into kept on saying, “Calm down--it’s alright.”  I felt out of place. I felt lonely.  I wished I had someone beside me--Merritt, Luba, the Owen from yesterday, Joe--anyone.  Why did I ditch Luba this morning? I pushed through the crowd, trying to find a way out of this blob of people that I wished would dissipate.
Just when I saw an opening to fresh air, I heard Luba shout, “Hey, Jimmy.  Glad to see you here,” from somewhere to the side of me.  Turning towards his voice,  I saw him right next to me.  If I kept on going, I would have elbowed him as well.  Grateful to be next to someone I knew, but embarrassed that he just saw me crash through a crowd like a walrus in a high speed chase with a cheetah,  I weakly smiled at him.  Did I want his company or not? I did not know.  All I knew was that I could now stand this blob of people.
“Do you know what this speech-meeting thing is going to be about?” Luba asked.  So this was a speech-ish meeting? I thought.
“Well, I guess not, then,” he answered himself as he saw the expression on my face.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” someone said with a microphone.
“Ooo, I think it’s starting,” Luba whispered to me.
“--please welcome the great man who helped us all when we were in trouble at least once--Merritt!”  Almost everyone whistled, clapped, or both--except me and Luba, of course, because we didn’t have a clue what was happening.
We were too far away (and the people in front of us were too tall) for us to see what was going on where they were speaking.  But we could pretty much tell what was going on.  “Thank you, thank you,” Merritt said, “Is everyone gathered here today? Great, because today is day I must talk about the importance of all of us being here, of our place in the world.  We, as people, all have our own basic rights.  We always can give up a few of our rights to form a group for the common good because, then, we could possibly live safer and happier lives.  Everyone has their own ambitions, and if the group does not allow one to have what he or she wants, one has the right to think differently.  It is their brain.  What would be a world where no one can think for themselves?”
“Something awful,” someone loudly shouted somewhere in the crowd.
“Yes,” Merritt agreed, “that is why people should actually have their rights.  It would be a terrible world to live in without anyone being able to think for themselves.  In this country today, there are still some people who do not have the same number of rights as others.  In this little area, you might not see the difference in number of rights because I have tried to make it as equal a possible.  But, think back to when you weren’t here yet--think of the life you had before.  Would you say that everything was great?”
I thought of me being in the orphanage--of being stuck there all day and night, being forced to clean this and that, and getting nothing in return.  I thought about living on the streets--of having to fend for myself and of being beat up just because I was trying to survive.  That wasn’t very great.
I heard some people muttering to each other in the crowd.  “My dear ones, it’s hard, but true,” Merritt continued, “But, it doesn’t have to stay this way.  Together, we could stop this hurt that is being forced into unwilling hands.  Together, we can make the change--we can be the change.  The Revolutionary Club is starting up tomorrow at the East Lounge from three o’clock to five o’clock.  It will be held once every week.  Good day, ladies and gentlemen.”
There was a total silence for a few seconds, then a big, booming cheer broke out from the crowd.  Luba put his hand on mine.  I didn’t notice I had been clenching them.
“Are you going to check out the Revolutionary Club tomorrow, Luba?” I asked him.  I didn’t want to go alone.  He thought for a moment--a really long moment.
“Ok I’ll come with you Jimmy.  Want to meet at the cafeteria if we aren’t together at three o’clock?” Where was the cafeteria, again? Luba smiled, knowing--once again--what was going on in my head.  “Come on, I’ll show you again.  Be sure to remember it.”

Chapter 5

Luba led the way to the cafeteria, and, this time, I noted down all of the “landmarks” of the mansion that we passed in order.  At least I would know one route through this giant maze.  But, I had to say, even though I payed a lot of attention to where we were the whole time, I still couldn’t remember every single detail of how we got there.  Luba has good memory, I thought admiringly.
“How do you remember all of this?” I asked him.
“I don’t actually know,” he replied, “I just do.” If he were a computer, he would probably be one of those supercomputers that could work on a myriad of processes at once, remember everything, and never freeze once.  I sort of had the feeling I wouldn’t be one of those if I were a computer.
Now that this order of business was done, we started eating our lunch, but we still had to think of something to do afterwards.  I wondered what everyone else did here.  Everyone walked with so much purpose that there must be something going on at every minute, right?  The only problem was that I never saw where everyone ended up.  Did they even end up somewhere? a silly part of my brain thought, Maybe they just walked and walked, and never stopped.  Nope, I had to help brainstorm an idea.
“How about we check out the capture the flag games, Jimmy.” Luba “jabbed” an ice pick in my brain because I was still thinking.
“Agh, um, I mean, sure, Luba,” I answered.  “Do you know where they play it, though?” I sheepishly added.
“Of course.” Luba stood up from his seat and elegantly, and sarcastically, swirled his hands in the air made them stop, pointing at the door.  “You first, Jimmy, sir, so I may lead you to your destination.”  We burst out laughing and walked through the door leading to the future together.

We found the huge field in the back of the wide expanse of the mansion.  There was already a heated game of capture the flag--meaning they were loud.  It wasn’t like the captain was shouting commands at the team.  No, everyone was shouting at each other, every single second.  The sounds were so loud that they pierced my eardrums and I thought that my brain would explode.  The shouts were coming from every direction at once, closing in on me.  Maybe I was going to explode, I thought oddly.  Yet, we did not want to interrupt, so we stood at the sidelines, watching the game.  I noticed that there were a few people that always scored the “treasure.”
“Shouldn’t everyone get a chance?” I asked, or maybe shouted at, Luba.
“Oh, Jimmy,” Luba replied, just loud enough so that I could barely hear him, “Everyone is contributing something even if it doesn’t look like it.  Those people who aren’t scoring are probably defending more than the ‘scorers.’”  He sounded like he knew what he was talking about.
“Did you play capture the flag a lot before?” I questioned him.
“Not really,” he replied.  “You can sort of tell when you see how they play.  You know those people near their hoop or the place they put their ‘treasure?’” He pointed towards the people at the edges of the court.  “They are in the best position to block anyone who tries to take the ‘treasure.’  The offensive players would have to run faster than the others to attempt to stop him or her.  If that person is really fast, that would be hard.”
With a new perspective, we watched the two teams tie, untie, then tie again.  Some people started shouting, “Nine to Nine! This point determines this--let’s do this!” so I guessed that they were playing for first to ten points.  This was the deciding point of the game.  Who was going to win? One team had more defensive players, so points for the other team weren’t scored easily.  But the team with more offensive players had more people to help score the point.  They both had a good chance.
The offensive team was going to make it! One player was sprinting to the other side with the “treasure,” but the defensive players of the other team were moving in.  They pulled his flag and he had to throw the “treasure” back to the hoop.  Meanwhile, a player from the mostly defensive team was sprinting towards the mid-line.  Everyone was focused on the player from the offensive team, and he made it to the other side.  Hm. Maybe this other strategy might actually work.  Luba was right yet again.
The teams did things differently than what I was used to.  After one team lost, they didn’t storm off and name how many ways the other team cheated.  Instead, they walked up to the opposing team and shook hands with them.  Maybe it was different because they showed good sportsmanship.  I saw that the people in the mansion weren’t like dry sand in a bucket--they were a pile of that kind of mud that sticks together and would have a hard time letting go of each other.  Unity.  We should have that everywhere--like what Merritt said.
The capture the flag players noticed us spectating from the sidelines, and one of them came over.
“You’re name’s Jimmy, right, Jimmy?” He somewhat greeted.
How did he know my name? Just after thinking that, I suddenly felt bad.  He was the person named Owen from yesterday.  I mentally face-palmed myself.  “Yeah, hi Owen.”
“Do you want to play on a team? You can if you know how to play,” he suggested.  I got the broad idea when I watched the game, but I didn’t know if I could actually do what I knew I should do if I was in the game.  I looked to Luba for an answer.
Luba, seeing that I couldn’t decide, replied, “Sure, we would love to play capture the flag, but would Joe and I have to split up?”
Owen immediately responded, “Of course, but that’s ok.”  He looked back at his team.  “We should start the game soon.”  He ran back to his team and started barking orders.
Luba had one glance at me and decided, “I’ll be on the team on the right.” He led me to the left team and ran to the other--the one with Owen.  Luba was on the other side.

The captain of this team was apparently a person named Carter.  Carter… I heard that name somewhere.  Anyhow, I listened to Carter’s game plan and pep talk.  We waited a while for Luba’s team to finish discussing items of importance, then got into our positions and started the game.
I could just say to you: these people ran fast.  I almost couldn’t catch up to anyone, so I didn’t play my part in the game that well.  I was supposed to pull the other team’s flags so that they had to go to the “jail” to be rescued (it took players temporarily out of the game).  That wasn’t working out that well.  Gasping for breath even harder than after running out of Merritt’s place, and not getting enough air, I got a cramp.  Great, that would totally make me faster.
One part of me was screaming, Why did I come here in the first place? This is torture! Run away from here!, and the other was the polite one in a bad situation.  Don’t you dare run away from this challenge.  What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.  It seemed like encouragement.
Leaning towards the polite side of me, I kept on running and gasping and sprinting, maybe getting one person’s flag pulled out of the twenty times an opposing player passed me.  Since I was pretty much defending, I was on my team’s side the whole time.  I was invincible--that is, my flag couldn’t get pulled on my side--but it sounded nice.

The game went by quickly.  Probably because I was too tired to pay attention, I hypothesized.  “Good job, Joey! If you were gone, our team would’ve lost!” congratulated Carter.  Everyone in my team went up and said something like that to the star player.
“Whoo, Joey!”
“Yay for the mighty Joey!”
“Joey, my bud, you did great.”
I didn’t do as much as he did, I thought to myself.  Joey did everything.  I could’ve felt pride for Joey, or I could’ve felt bad for myself for not being as good as him.  I felt bad for myself.  Luba came over and saw me looking at the ground and pulling at my sweat-soaked shirt.
“You guys won, Jimmy! Everyone contributed something,” Luba said as he tried to comfort me.
I didn’t want to respond, but I had to because Luba was looking at me expectantly.  “Well, I didn’t.  I was slow and didn’t do anything.”
“No, Jimmy,” Luba argued softly, “you did do something, even though it might not have looked apparent.  When you chased those people, you blocked their path, stalling time for other players to come in for the flag-pull.  You changed the game, whether anyone considers it big or not, you did something.”
Luba had some serious arguments.  But, I still wasn’t convinced that I did something big.  Not wanting Luba to waste his breath on me when he could’ve talked to one of the more jubilant players, I “agreed” with him.
He looked at me one more time, but changed the topic.  “Well then, Jimmy, what do you want to do now?” The next question.  I just wanted to take a nap, and maybe drop dead, so I didn’t have to stand up.
“Sleep,” I bluntly answered.  “To the rooms, we go.”

Too bad my room is pretty far away from Luba’s.  I either had to make Luba walk the extra length (I was tired, so how tired was he?), or walk alone.  I didn’t want to bother him, so I walked alone.  Too many choices for one day, and too many things in one day.
Once I got in my room, I literally fell onto my bed, and once my head touched my pillow, I was asleep.

Chapter 6

	The day was warm for autumn, and the gentle sunlight was peeking in through the window.  I, on the other side, had not eaten anything for about half a day.  I was starving because I forgot to eat dinner.  A nice thing to forget.
	I got up from my bed, maybe more sore than the day I arrived here.  How long ago was that? Two days? Boy, a lot of things happened in those two days.  Where did Joe go anyways? I just hoped that Joe wasn’t hurt or anything.  If he was, I would have failed to be his guardian as well.  Maybe I should’ve looked for him and left the first day I came here.  Maybe, then, I would have know if he was ok.  But, if I had left, I would have never met Luba, smart Luba.
	I felt torn.  I didn’t know what would have been better.  What would have been.  That is what people thought about a lot.  Would Luba give me his words of wisdom? But he was part of the argument.  People in the argument are always biased, whether they want to or not--it’s from their perspective, after all.  Yet another internal argument raged in my brain.  I wished I knew what to do.  Could I depend on anyone here to always be by my side?
	The next best option was to find Luba and have breakfast, so I tried to push my thoughts against him out of my mind.  I attempted to make myself look as spiffy as I could without having that many clothes or a sink because I probably didn’t look that good yesterday.
Walking out of my room, I noticed I didn’t know where Luba’s room was.  How did I not do so many things? I screamed at myself in my brain.  Time to wander yet again through these halls.

 When I found Luba, he was walking towards my room.  He technically found me, I thought sadly.  Why couldn’t I do anything right?
“Aw, Jimmy, don’t let yesterday get you down.  You did the best you could,” Luba “comforted” me.  He reminded me of yesterday.  Great.  Nothing was actually doing great.
“Come on, Jimmy.  How about we go eat and study or something?”
“Study?” I asked, surprised.  There were classes here?
“Do you think everyone here would get better without learning? Let me show you.”

After eating, we headed to a room with what looked like a billion new computers shining on tables. even more tables to study on, and the books in the room could’ve lined a few of the longest pathways in the mansion.  Studying here must be more important than a lot of other things.  Or maybe everything here is important.  I thought of the capture the flag, and how big the field was.  I thought of the pathways, and how they were so clean and orderly.  This place really does represent the equality Merritt talked about.  I was looking forward to what was going to be said in the Revolutionary Club.
Luba and I sat down at one of the numerous tables, but then decided to look around.  I started to look at the title names at the beginning of the rows of books (if you can say there was a beginning in a circle).  I started at “A.”  I would work my way through the books.  For every book I looked at, I also read a few pages from the middle of the book.  You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.  I didn’t like the ones with dragons, fairies, and unicorns everywhere in the book.  Most of them were too cliched to be fun to read.  Too banal.  A princess is in mortal danger.  The prince comes to help and meets fantastic friends along the way that are dragons and unicorns.  The prince is almost too late.  The princess is saved.  Or maybe switch the prince and the princess. Overused.
I looked around for a great book to read, not settling for the average ones.  Why read a book if you don’t like it? I thought.  A long time later, I found a book worthy enough to read with joy.  I got back to the table Luba and I sat down at earlier and found that Luba was already thirty pages into his book.
	“How’s your book, Luba?” I asked.
“Not that great,” he replied.  “It’s readable though.”  He attention went back to his book.
Luba didn’t pick the perfect book, yet he’s still reading it? But, I decided that I shouldn’t tell Luba what to do because it was my personal opinion, so I started my book, as well.
The little sneak peek I had in the book was really exciting.  The beginning--not really.  I almost just put down the book to look for a new one because I was that through with it when the inciting incident occurred, and things just got real.  The way the author described the scenario, it was as if I was actually there.  Everything was crystal clear.  The character was running for his life, looked back for one second, then was trapped because they had surrounded him.
“Hey Jimmy, I think we should go eat lunch now.  It’s about twelve-thirty,” Luba suggested.  I looked up from my book.  Twelve-thirty? Boy, I took a long time picking out my book and carefully reading it.
“Sure, Luba.  If you’re ready.”  I shut my book, but hesitated.  “Can I bring this book to my room to read?”
“Just check it out first! I’m going to check this book out, too,” he answered.
After legally taking responsibility of our books, we took them with us as we went to the cafeteria to satisfy our hunger.

Today, I wanted to eat that spicy and salty spaghetti to combat sour.  I made sure to add tons of tabasco sauce and pepper.  I placed my book on the table, and we ate and ate and ate.  It tasted too good to be true.  I had a lot of favorite flavors in the extreme: sweet, spicy, salty--all that good stuff.
After eating, I noticed splashes of tomato sauce everywhere.  Oopsie daisies.  I was trying to count how many splashes I made when I found one on my paper-back book.  Suddenly leaping into action, I sprang up and ran to the condiments section of the cafeteria.  Spaghetti sauce, don’t seep into my book.  Don’t seep into my book.  Frantically searching for a napkin, I heard Luba saying something soothing, but I pushed it to the back of my mind because I needed to focus on finding a napkin.
“Luba! Napkin!” I shouted at him.  He asked me what was wrong, but I was so distressed that I could only point at my book and jump up and down anxiously.  I would look odd to everyone else right now, I suddenly thought.  I stopped jumping and felt everyone’s stares burning into my back.  I turned around, but no one was actually staring.  Everyone was still doing what they were doing before, but I somehow still felt self-conscious.  Trying to look inconspicuous, I “calmly” looked for a napkin in the condiments section this time.  Hands shaking, I somehow found the pile in about a second.  Somehow.
I walked back to the table Luba and I were sitting at, and wiped off the sauce on the book.  I had forgotten that paper-back books have a layer of plastic over them.  The sauce wouldn’t have seeped in since it was splattered on the top.  Embarrassed, I folded my arms in my lap and attempted to look dignified, while looking even less.
“Jimmy, you ok?” Luba asked me, worried.
“Yes,” I quickly answered.
Luba looked at me, then sort of changed the subject.  “Do you want to wipe those spots on the table as well? Here, let me help.”  He used my napkin and wiped all the spaghetti spots off of the table.  “There.”
Since there was a disturbance, and we were already technically done with lunch anyways, I started thinking about what we were going to do after lunch again.  Are we back to reading after lunch again? Not wanting to do that for all of the day, I just wanted to burn time until the Revolutionary Club meeting.  How to burn the time was the question.
“Do you want to look at the metal shop? It’s something to do,” Luba suggested after a long pause.  Something to burn time with.
“Sure.”  Luba led the way to the metal shop.  There has to be something else that is interesting here, right?

	It was pretty quiet outside the metal shop, even right outside the door, but inside, it was a different story.  There was the screech of metal scraping against metal, the banging of hammers, and the shouts of people trying, but failing, to communicate through the ear-splitting noise.
	Luba smartly gestured to me to follow him to look at what one person was working on.  I didn’t want to get even closer to the noise, but I figured that things couldn’t get any louder.  My ears were already taking in their full capacity.
	The metal shop person was working on something long, slender, and pointy.  What would that be? I saw Luba making small swinging motions with his arms together on an imaginary grip.  Oh, it is a sword.  I should’ve guessed that from the start, with how it looked like.  It just didn’t occur to me.
	After a while of observing the crafter, I noticed that he was making strong, yet precise, strikes with his hammer.  He must be working for perfection.  But who would need a perfect sword? No one was going to battle or anything.  No one would want to slice off a person’s head these days.  Why make a sword? Is this where all the decorative swords come from? I thought, thinking of the experiences I had with Luba.
	About the sword encounters with Luba, he was saying that Merritt would have used those swords to kill.  Are these people--I didn’t want to jump into any conclusions.  I wished I could make a getaway from my own brain.  That wouldn’t turn out so great, the logical and serious part of my brain thought.  Agh, my brain.
	We examined his work for a little longer, and moved to another crafter.  His area was even less bearable than any of the others--he was using a furnace.  I felt like I was being baked in an oven and was going to catch on fire any second.  Luba didn’t show any sign of his discomfort--if he had any.  The crafter poured melted metal into a mold.  It was also in the shape of something pointy, sharp, and slender.  Why were everyone making swords?  It made no sense to me whatsoever since I was trying to push Luba’s thoughts about it out of my list.  No, there must be another reason.  It might just be a little deep.  Luba’s thoughts were also deep, but I ignored that fact I had in my head.
	We looked through many-a-crafters, and, finally, Luba suggested to leave by pointing his thumb at the door.  I gratefully nodded, maybe even too much so since Luba grinned at me.  We got out of the metal shop, but I still had a high-pitched ringing in my head.  But it was still freedom!
	I asked Luba for the time.  He checked his watch and told me it was half past two.  It was almost time for Revolutionary Club.  Yes! I wanted to get there early to have a front row seat.
	“Let’s go to the East Lounge, Luba!” I exclaimed, then added, “Where is the East Lounge, again?” I really needed to remember every single place in this mansion so I could find my way around.
	Luba sighed and said to follow him.

	Chapter 7

	I had to say, the East Lounge was huge.  Maybe I had thought that for everything here, but this time, it was actually gigantic.  How many people are expected to show up if they picked this lounge to hold the club? It was a good thing we came early.  Merritt was just off-stage discussing something with Carter, the captain of the capture the flag game.  Carter surely did a lot of things around here.  He must love this place a lot.
	Luba and I picked one of the seats that was close to see the stage, but also far back enough to be able to see it from a good angle.  The good angle part was actually Luba’s idea.
	It really was a good idea to come early to the club because there were barely any choices to sit in when the club started.
	Merritt was on the stage.  “Hello my dear revolutionaries, and welcome to the club.  Though anyone may either join or leave the club if they see that they want to, may I ask everyone here, today, to print their names on this clipboard? It will start over here.”  He jumped down the stage and handed it to one of the convenient people in the front.  “Make sure everyone gets the clipboard!”
	“Anyways,” he continued, “this is Revolutionary Club, not Sign-up Club.  We are here, today, to discuss the pressing matter of how much equality there really is nowadays, and if the amount needs some help boosting it to a helpful level.  The US was founded on the idea that every man was equal and should, at least, have the basic rights anyone should have.  Is that true today? That is the question that brings us together in this room right now.  During this meeting, we are going to make a group chart on how there is equality, and how it lacks in some places.  Every row is one group.  Since there are eight rows, there will be eight groups.  The first row is group one, the second is group two, and so on.  We will make a clockwise circle of groups from that corner.”  He pointed towards the front-right corner.  “After about ten minutes, we will pull ourselves back together and make a group consensus.”
	Merritt hopped off the stage, and everyone dispersed.  Luba and I went to the group three area.  They were already “discussing.”
	“The government sucks.  They took my house, my family--everything! They were even about to take me.  But, no.  Merritt took me here.  I’m not going to take this opportunity for granted.” a man ranted, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
	“Don’t be so negative.  Your family wanted you to leave the country with them--you were the one who refused! You told me so the first time we talked.  By the way, the government was paying you even though you weren’t working when you were alone,” another person refuted.
	“Why are you even here, Daisy?” he asked her, sad that he didn’t win the argument.
	“You were the one who dragged me here!” Daisy protested.  “I didn’t actually want to come.”
“Um, hi guys.  Is this group three?” I wanted to get some actual discussing done.
They both stared at me, startled.  They didn’t notice us before I said something.  That was oddly familiar, yet it was backwards.  I smiled.
Daisy was the one who recovered first.  “Yes.  Sorry we started without you two.  Boy, you two are really young.  This is Nemo.”  She pointed at the man who shouted.  “And I am Daisy.  Please don’t try to scare us.”
I didn’t know how I had tried to scare them, but I noted that down in my personal internal notebook.  Not that I used it a lot--I forgot things anyways, I couldn’t help it.  I introduced myself and Luba introduced himself.  We better get down to business now, I thought, but I suddenly noticed that I didn’t actually have any ideas to start up the discussion.  Why didn’t I think this through? Don’t shoot an idea down if you don’t have one to replace it.  I hit my head with my palm.
“You ok?” Daisy asked me, slightly worried.  “Is your head hurting or something? Why does Merritt have kids in this place? The people here have very strong ideas.” She was looking at Nemo again.
“Hey, why are you blaming me?” he looked slightly confused, but even more ready to fight back.  “I didn’t do anything, Merritt--” He stopped.
“Yes, Nemo.”  Daisy continued.  “Are you suggesting that your hero is good and bad? Aren’t heroes all good?”
Nemo looked a little dejected again.  “But--”
“No “but”’s.  You know what I’ve been telling you about for all these years.  It’s not always black and white, but your heart always knows what’s right.  There are even these amazing shades of grey, as well.”
Nemo looked more confused than before.  “Are you suggesting that nothing is ever going to be neat and orderly and equal? Again, why are you here if you aren’t on the side of the argument that wants change? It’s called Revolutionary Club for a reason.”
“Why shouldn’t the opposite side know why they are arguing in the first place?” Daisy easily refuted once again.  I heard Luba suck in a lot of air, but didn’t hear him breathe out.
“Why do you make my life miserable and hard, Daisy?” he grumbled.
“Then why did you marry me?” Daisy asked.  I noticed Luba was breathing again.
“You make good arguments--in the broad way,” he replied.
“Why, thank you,” she said sarcastically.  She finally turned her attention back to Luba and me.  “How are you two doing?”
That was a really big change of topic, and I was caught off guard.  I was tuned to all hearing, and not speaking.  While I was still grasping for words to say, Luba replied, “Quite fine.  Shall we start on the topic we were given?”
I could tell Nemo was just about to say something when Merritt said loudly from the stage, “Is everyone done?”  There wasn’t much time to respond, but he continued.  “Ok then, let’s begin our group chart.”

Chapter 8

The whole discussion of the different ways to look at the situation only included a few pieces of evidence, but I was surprised at how many ways it could support one topic or another.  One person spoke out the most.  When he talked, I was pretty sure he could convince anyone that even water was an extremely dangerous hazard everyone should get rid of.  He was too convincing.  I was actually a little afraid to even listen to him as he talked because I was imagining I would tear out of the room, blast through the wall, grab a sword, and start stabbing people.  Silly me.
After a while, though, I mentally shook away my fear and started to listen to him as he spoke.  Everything he said was reasonable and clear.  After each of his mini speeches, I started to feel more and more that the Revolutionary Club was doing the right thing.  Those other people taking away the little things the unlucky had was horrendous.  They had to be stopped.  I even saw Merritt nodding his head and smiling whenever the man made a good point.
As everyone was discussing as a large group, Carter was on the stage filling up a chart as fast as he could.  I felt sorry for him; it would be hard to keep up with all of the persuasive man’s different points on the topic.
During much of the time, Luba was bumping into me every minute.  He would then mouth a sorry, and get back to rocking in his chair in about ten seconds.  I thought that the speeches must have made him want to do something about this crisis.  I’m not rocking back and forth.  Does that mean I don’t care about the cause that much? I wanted to show that I was devoted in this room; I wanted to speak up.  But what to say? My thoughts didn’t sound as orderly and clear as the other speakers in my head.  The ones that seemed a little better than other ideas in my brain were already said before.
Mentally digging around for a new thing to say, I finally found one.  It seemed somewhat logical, and it was something new.  I had to wait for a good moment to jump in and start speaking.  It was hard because “persuasive speaker” was hopping in every time there was a slight, half a second pause.  Now I knew why he was one of the only ones speaking.  I kept on trying to find a break big enough in the discussion so I could jump in, but not cut anyone off.
Much too soon, Merritt stated that it was five o’clock and the meeting had to come to a close.  I still didn’t get to say my point.  I felt Luba rocking and bumping into me even faster.  He must’ve really wanted to speak as well.  The meeting was sadly over, and Luba jumped up in the air, looked at me, then regained his composure.
I asked him, “Do you want to come to the next meeting?” Maybe I would have a better chance next time.
Luba paused for a second.  “If you want to.”
That decided it.  We came to the Revolutionary Club meeting every week, and studied and did capture the flag in our freetime.  We also did some miscellaneous tasks, like member recruitment, every once in a while for the Club.  The only thing was that I had a feeling that I had to pull Luba to the meetings.  He wasn’t usually that shy.  In fact, he was the one who started talking to me when we first met.
I didn’t let that bother me too much.  The club members had pretty strong feelings about how things were going in the topic of equality.  That was probably why.
We got through the days and gained more valuable experiences.  Somewhere along the way, the Revolutionary Club decided as a whole to take action in what it was doing.  There was a voting stand in the middle of the campus that was only there for half a day when it got a two-thirds vote for “yes, do something about it.”
We first came together to write up a list of grievances for the people like Thomas Jefferson and the Declaration of Independence, except we didn’t want independence, just a slight change.  We were going to send it to the government, press, and organizations like those.  We checked, thought, and checked some more for a few meetings before we deemed the document worthy to be given to an outsider to look at.  We, the members of the Revolutionary Group, each signed our names at the bottom of the document--in the given space under the writing.  After checking the document one last time, we sent it in a neat envelope to their destinations.
Merritt was looking happier than usual these days.  I thought it was because what he was talking and hinting at for many years was being taken seriously now.  The people’s suffering might end sometime.
It took a few weeks to get a reply from the anyone, but, once it came, a meeting was called for at once.  Everyone would have the chance to see the first opening of the letter.
Carter was the one who read it to everyone in a loud voice.
	“The Revolution Club,

	From this letter, we have seen that your group strongly believes that there should be a change in the ways individual rights are protected, but we will pass for your request for the change.  For this to occur…”

	This wasn’t the reply I was expecting.  I first guessed that no one was really expecting that from the gasps of surprise and the mumbles from one person to another.  But, I looked at Luba.  He was just calmly listening to Carter.  He was the one smart enough to expect this.  Before sending the letter out to the world, Luba had said that it might not work.  No one really believed him, but I remembered it.  Maybe we just didn’t want to believe it.
	We tried a few more times in the coming months, but it always came back rejected.  The latest reply also included that we should stop requesting, that it would not be changed.
	“We can’t stay here and do nothing!” one of the very devoted members exclaimed.
	There were a few shouts agreeing with her voice.  There was a heavy discussion--even more serious than any of the last.  By the end of the meeting, it was decided that we were going to fight for the freedoms of others (no one can fit the whole world in Merritt’s mansion).  We might have to use force.
	Merritt started the end of the meeting.  “Thanks to previous miscellaneous projects by our metal shop-ers, we have an abundant supply of utilities to use.  They are strong, and look beautiful.”  Some club members chuckled.  “We will start a ‘Training Camp,’ as you can call it.  It will be on the field every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”
	In the days afterwards, through the summer and spring, my days were filled with training, meetings, capture the flag, and studying.  The “Training Camp” was actually pretty fun--with the sword-play and everything.  It didn’t include that much plain running or exercises that were done far too many times.  There was a goal involved, with a strategy as well, so it would be a whole new game every session.
	At first, we practiced technique, though.  Each of us were given a foam sword that looked like a sword--with the blade, and handle, and everything.  Their training was serious.  We stood in a line and copied the instructor’s moves a few times.  After that, we kept on doing it and the sword teacher came around and told us how we could be even better.  I needed to get better in a lot of ways.  When he told everyone else one thing about how they could get better, he told me ten.  I needed to improve.  I watched Luba swing his arm with a gracefulness I would never be able to muster.  I knew it.  I had tried.  When I swung my own arm, it looked like it splattered everywhere.  “You need more balance, young Jimmy.  Control yourself,” the sword teacher had said.  “Pretend this is a real battle.  You have to keep on going in a battle--keep trying.  It will work out someday.”
	Attempting to believe what he said, I practiced harder than I had ever practiced before.  My day was filled with getting better for the good of others.  I’m helping them, I thought, train for the common good.  I wanted the Revolutionaries to win in battle, so there would be equality in the world.  With this motivation, I got better and better at what I did.  I was going to be ready for the worst, I had thought.

I had to say that since I had started continually playing capture the flag, I had been getting better at it.  For example, once, I caught up with the fastest player and pulled his flag.  There were cheers from my team going all around me.  I especially heard Luba happily shout my name.  It felt good to get better at something.

Chapter 9

	We were ready.  The plan was to first move into the area, then make a public protest.  The more people joined, the better.  They would have to notice us now.
	It had already been a few days, and I was next to Luba when someone came to stop us from disrupting the public.  We were disrupting the public.  Weren’t we supposed to be helping them right now? Luba didn’t seem like he was as into the change as the others in the group.  Why he was still in the group, I did not know.  Why was I here? I listed my reasons in my head.  I was surprised how little motives I had.  No, but they are all important.  I convinced myself that everything had a good reason.
“Halt!” a man with a megaphone commanded us. “We do not want to hurt you.  If you stop in peace, we will not need to go the hard way.  We have more men than you.  Give up now, and all will be well.”
	I thought they should’ve chose their words a little more carefully, since a few shouted back, in one way or another, “All will be well? Nothing is going to be well if things don’t change.”
	Over the shouts, the man with the megaphone attempted to create order again.  “We all want peace.  Do not disrupt the little we have.”
	One of our group lifted up his beautiful sword--with engravings, jewels, and everything that made it look nice--and ran towards the man, so angry that he wasn’t thinking very well.  The beautiful art of a crafter is going to be used for murder.  It chilled me to the bone.  I never really thought of the rebellion as a blood and slashing, even though we were practicing using swords.  It never seemed that people were actually going to get hurt.  I didn’t even see how much the members of the club meant what hateful things they said.  Maybe I didn’t belong here.  Maybe I should’ve stopped coming to the club that I dragged Luba to in the first place.  Things got too serious for me.  I needed to back out, but where could I go? I was blocked in from every side and everyone here was devoted to the cause.  How would they think if I backed out? There’s no going back now.
	I snapped back to reality.  The “peacemakers” took the club member’s attack as a forceful reason to start fighting.  It started.  People were slashing at each other.  There were dodges and there were blows.  I can’t look at this.  I’m not meant for real battles.  Though I trained hard, probably harder than most, I couldn’t do it in real life.  A rubber sword in a practice was fine.  A full on sword that was pretty to stare at, but sharp enough to slice a hair on a so-called enemy was not.  Where was Luba? I searched the crowd for him.
	“Look out, Jimmy.  Don’t doze off now!” Someone pushed me forwards, and I almost toppled.  That someone caught me and held me still for a second while parrying blows from an assumed enemy.  I looked up.  Luba had protected me--here to save the day again.
I suddenly realized that I should help him.  I mustered my courage.  I took a deep breath, and took out my sword and sliced in a rapid succession.  He backed away a little.  I helped Luba, and I was happy--even though I was helping him help me.  Looking for a glow of pride, I turned towards him.  All I saw was disbelief.  It was then that I noticed that “enemy” would be hurt for many-a-days just because of me.  How is this battle going to help us again? Having no time to ponder that question because I had to stay alert, I left it hanging there.
I didn’t want to hurt any more people, though others in the club might ask me why later.  That didn’t matter.  All that mattered was right now.  This was the time of action.  Luba and I weaved through the crowd together, just distracting, and not attacking, because it was still useful in its own way.
We zapped through the mass of slashing people like a harmless lightning bolt.  We blocked attacks from the other side, saving pain for our side.  Why can’t everyone just get along? Then, Luba and I wouldn’t have to block any slashes.
I couldn’ let myself think about that now. I had to focus.
Yes, focus, I thought to myself later when the battle was still raging.  Even though I tried as hard as I could to predict where and who would try to hit whom, I still missed a myriad of times and people got hurt.  I didn’t get to know that many members of the Revolutionary Club that well, but I still recognized their faces.  That man was the one who was the most persuasive.  That was Nemo.  That was the one who taught how to sword-fight.  That person was the one who tried to cheer everyone up when our letter was rejected.  That person was the one that--
“Jimmy!” I heard Luba shout.  For a moment, I wondered why he shouted my name.  Was there a splendorous thing that was going to end the battle somewhere up ahead? The second after that, I had my question answered.  My right leg suddenly seared with pain.  I wanted to clutch it and cry for hours.  There probably wasn’t going to be something good just up ahead.
When I was just about to give in to my misery, I remembered the first thing the sword-fighter teacher had said to everyone.  “Keep on going in a battle.”  My brain was almost beyond caring for what anyone had said; it felt like it was stretched to the breaking point, trying to decode how my leg felt.  But the words echoed in my mind, and started to make a little sense. This is a battle, so what should I do? Keep on going.  How I did it, I did not know.  I sprang up to see Luba parrying all of the attacker’s attacks, but I could see that his strikes were slowing down in speed.  Limping quickly towards the place I needed to be, I should’ve paid more attention to everything.  But, as usual, I didn’t.  Someone slammed me to the ground.
“Luba! No!”  I squirmed to get up from under my attacker’s firm grip and sheer body weight.  This guy must have eaten a lot.
In the end, I accepted that all of my attempts were futile, so I peeked through a tiny hole from under my attacker and tried to at least see if Luba was alright.  What if he was hurt? It would all be my fault again.  Joe.  I hadn’t thought about him for a long while.  How was he doing? I didn’t even try to find out for such a long time.  I actually felt like climbing back into the area under the person on top of me, to crawl in a hole to wallow in my miseries.  But I can’t do that, I still have to help Luba.  I squirmed with renewed strength, startling my attacker.  I caught a glimpse of Luba being safely carried away by someone from the Revolutionary Club--Nemo.  That guy is good, I thought before I got slammed on the head and blacked out.

Chapter 10

	“Don’t you think that there are lots of people that look the same when their heads are smooshed and there’s blood leaking all over them?”
	“No, this is him.  I know it.  Let him stay, Adriana.  You’ll see.”
	I floated into consciousness hearing two voices discussing someone.  The last time I felt this bad was the time I smashed into a wall and Merritt saved me.  This time was probably worse, considering the deep wound made by a sword and the way that person sat on me.  I wasn’t sure if I should move--or if I could, for that matter.  Were they the one that sat on me? That wasn’t nice.  But, I figured that two people couldn’t be one, so I stirred and attempted to sit up.  Yup, I didn’t feel as great as when I was at Merritt’s.
	With herculean strength, I opened my eyelids, and was yet again surprised by what I saw.  I first registered a warehouse-like room, then I moved my focus to the people staring at me.  It couldn’t be true.  It just couldn’t.  My eyes grew round.  Was that Joe? He looked so much stronger, somehow.  He turned towards the other persons standing there, and gave him a “I told you so” look.
	“Joe!” I blurted out.  I struggled to get to my feet.  I almost got to him, but tripped on my own feet.  My face hit the floor.
	“Whoa, Jimmy.  Don’t hurt yourself even more,” Joe warned me.  He came up to me, and gently flipped me over.  He turned towards Adriana.   “Now, with this proof, will you please fix him up?”
	She grumbled about how she was probably helping an enemy, but treated me with care.  If I hadn’t heard her mutter out loud, I could’ve thought that she thoroughly cared about me.   Seriously.  While Adriana was fixing me up, Joe started up a conversation with me.
	“So, how has it been going? That day, you just disappeared--never came back.”
	Never came back? I was stunned that I didn’t think about Joe’s point of view before.  When he woke up, I was already gone.  Just “poof,” no one here.  It must have been distressing.  Where I was, he didn’t know.  I knew where he was, but I didn’t go look for him.  Despicable me.  “Sorry, Joe.”  I meant it.  “These people came and they did this thing, then I went to this place, then--”
	“Jimmy,” Joe cut me off, “tell me from the beginning.  Every detail.  To catch up.”
	There wasn’t any harm at all.  Why wouldn’t I tell him? How did he doubt me? I started from the beginning.  He listened intently, not interrupting me the slightest bit, until I got the the time when I joined the Revolutionary Club--and that was only because Adriana was grumbling about traitors again.  “Stop it!” Joe commanded.  She stopped talking.  He turned towards me again.  “Yes, keep going.”
	That was a little forceful, but I kept on going with my story anyways.  I described the early club days, with the discussions, the writing club days, and the training club days.  We had gradually moved to stronger actions, I discovered as I told my story.  I ended with Luba and I in the battle and a person squashing me flat.  I looked to Joe.  He looked embarrassed, but I found no reason why he should be.  He had saved me from that person somehow.  I imagined what he might have done.
	He pushed through the mass of fighting people, ignoring them because he was searching for the voice he had known so well.  Why the voice had cried “Luba,” he did not know.  Perhaps Jimmy had made a few friends along the way as well.  He couldn’t see him anywhere, but he knew it was the right place.  He knew Jimmy was probably under that man because--
	I couldn’t think of how someone would have been able to find me under that ginormous man.  I looked towards Joe for an answer.
	“You see,” he started, “I sort of thought you were a soldier, since they didn’t have uniform.  And I sort of attacked you.”  It made some sense to me, and I started nodding--until I started analyzing what he said.  Why was he in the battle in the first place? Why would he usually attack one of the “soldiers” as he called them?
	I was confused.  “Wait, what?”
	He sighed and explained even further.  “You probably know that there are two sides in the battle, since you were there.  One was the the side--”
	Adriana interjected, “--that supported the reasonable answer to the debate, and the other was the so-called ‘revolutionaries that are saving the world’ that really are trying to take over it.”  She shook her head in a disgusted manner.  “They don’t want peace, they just want their power, by what I see,” she added.
	Joe looked crossly at Adriana.  “You know, that was slightly biased.  When you describe a situation, you are supposed to provide the overview, not your opinion.”
	Joe turned back to me.  “Anyways,” he continued, “there were people there that were fighting, and I was on the, ehem, first mentioned side.”  My eyes grew wider every second as he explained why he was on that side of the battle.  It was pretty much the whole story from when I had left, to where we were now.  Joe woke up alone, and was alone for many days.  He was so alone that one of the usual, wandering people asked him to go to her house.  That was Adriana.  I was surprised that she would ever want to help anyone by herself--she only fixed me up because Joe wanted her to.  I guessed that everyone had a good side.
	Eventually, Joe was introduced to many people who strongly opposed the revolutionary side, and, “one thing led to another, and now I’m here with you, again, Jimmy.”  Adriana glared at him.  “And with Adriana, of course.”  So that was why Adriana was mumbling about helping an “enemy.”  I had supported the other side.  I, for the first time ever, felt out of place when I was with Joe.  Adriana knew I was uncomfortable, and it looked like she didn’t mind it.  Why is she here again? Oh yeah, she healed me.  I couldn’t push her away--she just saved me.  Because Joe hurt me, the dark side of me added.  Why couldn’t things just be simpler?
	For a moment, I didn’t want to say anything.  I had just spilled my guts about the side he was opposing because he wanted to-- No.  Joe would never be that cruel and calculating.  If he wanted to know the story, it was because he was worried about how I was getting along before.  How had I doubted him? Why would I ever doubt?
	I felt good, yet bad.  I had stopped Joe’s worrying by telling him about things that had gone on when he wasn’t there, but also told all of the secrets of where I had been.  Who did I want to be the most happy? I had already picked side-Joe by telling him everything.  Why was there not a way where I wouldn’t hurt anyone? If I was to move on at all, I had to push those thoughts away.  I almost fooled myself into thinking that everything was still alright.  But not quite.
In the meantime, I settled in with Joe and Adriana in the “warehouse” that I learned was a safehouse while the battles were raging outside its walls.  Every side has a safe place, I thought to myself throughout my days there.  Every day or so, a wounded soldier in the area was brought to Adriana to heal.  She worked worked her magic on them, and every one of them were healthy and happy again in, at most, a few days.  She was actually a good person.  Probably everyone was, once you get to know them, I concluded.
	Every once in a while, Joe and I goofed around, breaking Adriana’s concentration and making her frustratedly shout, “You little children!” every few minutes, but there were even more serious times.  Joe was into military planning and strategy.  He could pore over a map with all the troops depicted by chess pieces forever.  Believe me, I even got bored after waiting for him to make a move so I could see his strategy.  Me.  He would then make one move, then switch it back.  He must have made a hard move every time, I decided.
	I also filled my time by thinking about how it was going with Luba.  Was everyone treating him well? I thought that he was probably ok, but I would never be sure, me being here.  The super Jimmy who never saves the day, I thought to myself.  I always glumly ended with that conclusion.  I didn’t know why I even thought about it in the first place if I knew I would be even sadder afterwards.
	“How’s it going, Joe?” I asked him as I walked towards his table after thinking about how Luba was doing.  If he wasn’t immersed in his work, he would be able to cheer me up.
	“Good,” he quickly replied.  He still kept his eyes glazed on the board, as if it would move by itself, sneaking to a different place, when his intense gaze left it.  I sighed.  He wasn’t available.  The chessboard must have been really interesting to him.
	“What’s going to be your next move?” I asked him.  Maybe it would be more interesting to me as well if I knew what was going on or what was going to happen.  I wanted to see what was so fun about it.  I wanted to enjoy it if Joe liked it so much.  He didn’t reply, so I guessed he didn’t know.  He wasn’t as great when he wasn’t actually “with you,” if you could say that.  He was concentrating on finding the best choice in his own realm.  It was as if I was a nonexistent dust particle--he wouldn’t really notice me even if I was there.
	I thought about Luba and how we were almost always together, and when we were, we were interacting.  Thinking of the past as that wonderful world where everything is perfect once you get to the future, I observed.  Sighing, I drifted over to the medical area to see what Adriana was doing, trying to waste some time.
	She was also busy, as usual--sticking new bandages and medicine on her patients.  I didn’t want to bug her, but I didn’t know what else to do.  I watched her from a few feet behind her, observing how she slapped that band-aid on so gently, yet quickly.  She must’ve had a lot of experience, I concluded.  How long has she been here? That was yet another question to be answered.  One of the many.  When I was going to check off all of the questions on my mental list, I was not sure.  Never grow up, just keep growing.  I was pretty sure there wasn’t going to be an end to my list of unanswered questions--and that was good right? I was actively listening to and watching my surroundings.
	But I was doing nothing about it.  My list was growing longer and longer, with no end in sight.  I needed someone to answer my questions.  The only problem was that it seemed that I couldn’t depend on anyone to stay with me forever.  They always disappeared somewhere in time--either literally, or into their own imaginary world.  I sighed yet again.  Where was a person that would stay forever?
Chapter 11

	Time passed even slower in the safe house slower than a snail could crawl, yet it did pass.  There came the day that held the climax of the clash between the two sides.  Though it was a relief that people would soon be able to go outside and not see or hear the violence of the battle, with the cries of pain that would make you shiver in a dark corner all day, I didn’t know which side I wanted to win in the decisive battle.
	I did get one thing out of boredly watching Joe fiddle with his chess pieces; Merritt had mustered more than twice the amount of soldiers as the other--perhaps with his amazingly persuasive speeches.  Where he spoke to the people, I was not sure.  Where there’s a will, there’s a way, I decided.
	I was standing in the midst of a an army gathering for the final blow--good or bad.  I guessed that most of them thought that they were going into a bad battle, since they had grim faces.  They must have seen Joe’s chessboard.
I was not sure where to go.  Joe had gone off to tell the others about the plan he had been working on throughout the whole night, and Adriana was still working on her patients because there was always an ongoing flow of injured soldiers.  Everyone seemed to have a task, but me.  I had pretty much done nothing this whole time except feeling bad about the past, and how I could have changed it for the better.  That can’t even begin to be useful, I had thought.  What was there to learn from moping around?
“Jimmy, my man! They accepted my plan!” Joe excitedly jumped all over me.  “It’s going to be amazing.  Amazing.  Amazing! Interests finally put to use, I’m not useless!”
“Great, Joe.”  Honestly, I didn’t actually care much about how his plan for the attack was accepted.  I didn’t want to think about it at all.  It was the great divide, the deep chasm between two beautiful necessities, like water and food.  I knew that I couldn’t live without any of them, Luba or Joe, however bad they seemed at the moment.
“Come on, Jimmy,” Joe told me, “ let’s get to a good place so we can see if it all works out.  They would never see what hit them!” He dragged me towards the front of the lines of soldiers, and stopped at a seemingly random line.  “We should be right here, by my calculations--one...two...three...four..five! Yes, we’re in the correct position.”
Joe finally wasn’t preoccupied and he was here with me, yet it wasn’t the same as before.  We were surrounded by others following his plans, and he wouldn’t move an inch because this was the precise place we were supposed to be.  He seemed more distant than before.  I didn’t know if anything would ever be the same again.  I wished for Luba.

After a torturous amount of time waiting for the correct moment (though it would have probably been like that in an ordinary day), the army started moving as a whole.  As a second thought, I suddenly didn’t want the army to start moving--it would bring us closer to the battle.  But I couldn’t stop.  The ones behind me were marching forwards with an intensity that I couldn’t describe.  I would have usually thought, “Marching? Psh, how would that be intense? You’re just walking!” but, today, I had a different opinion.
Some of what the others were thinking about seeped into me.  I marched along with them, and kept my mind busy studying the storm clouds that were gathering.  It was as if they knew something big and violent was going to happen, I thought, slightly amused.  I was about to tell Joe about what I thought, but I noticed he was concentrating on what was up ahead--and I shouldn’t disrupt his thoughts about what he planned so carefully.  He, the strategist, was to observe the battle as a whole, and not take part in the little things.  He was to stand out this time, and I was with him--on the sidelines.

We reached our destination, and the army reorganized itself.  Joe and I stepped out of the center of the group, and stood close enough to see, yet far enough away to see the whole picture, and it was Joe’s idea.  I didn’t want to see the whole picture.  I imagined the battle to be as gruesome as gruesome could be.  I could picture it vividly; the blood splattering in every direction possible, the shrieking of voices in excruciating pain.  It was too much--I wanted to sneak away, but it wasn’t possible.  I couldn’t leave Joe again, yet I also couldn’t leave Luba in this mess.  Was life just one hard dilemma?
The battle started, and I was glad that I wasn’t completely correct about what was going to happen.  Not everyone got splattered from head to toe, but there were shouts from determined ones hungry to stab others.  Joe noticed that I had shivered.  “Are you cold?” He examined the clouds with dark eyes.  “These conditions are terrible for an easy battle.”  After somehow taking out a fluffy blanket from inside his jacket and placing it over me, his eyes strayed from me and were, once again, glued to the battle.
After a while, the screaming and shouting and cries all blended into one sound.  I couldn’t take it, but, somehow, Joe was still calmly examining “formations.”  All I saw was a blob coalescing with another and the new blob getting smaller.  Were they trampling them? I thought with alarm.  But, then, I noticed the stream of medics carefully lifting hurt soldiers out of the mess of stomping, active ones.  Adriana must be there.  I guessed that it would be more interesting observing something smaller than hundreds of people at once, so I told Joe I was going to visit Adriana.  He replied with a quick, “Sure,” without his eyes losing track of anything going on in the fighting mass of people.  Is he really thinking about the pros and cons of me leaving? Nope.
A little less happy about it, I picked my way down the slight hill Joe and I were standing on, towards a place closer to the “action,” as some may have called it.  But, to me, “action” sounded too happy for that place--“death” would be more like it to me.
I found Adriana in the crowd of heads right away.  She was at the center of the group of soldiers laying down on the grass.  I couldn’t help noticing that some had covers that went over their heads.  Nope, it’s not what you think it is, I kept telling myself.  Adriana was treating one man for once second, and another in the next.  She looked really stressed out.
“Adriana, I need you over here! Heavy bleeding!”
	“Yes, yes, I’m coming!”
	“Adriana, emergency!”
	“One second!”
	Adriana ran from patient to patient non-stop for as long as I watched her--which was pretty long, judging my boredom levels.  I felt like I could just stand and stare forever at nothing in particular.
	But I didn’t since I spotted something in the corner of my eye.  At first, I didn’t know what I saw--I just knew it was significant.  Turning towards what I saw, I, wide-eyed, recognized Luba parrying sword blows like the last time we were together.  He was up against a tough match this time.  He was barely blocking his opponent’s blows.  I could tell that things would turn out differently this time.  I also thought about how I didn’t go find him or Joe when I had disappeared.  This time, things would change.  I had to help him.
	Someone watching could have said I “stole” a sword, but I borrowed it.  Reaching down to the closest soldier, I grabbed his sword and ran towards Luba, parrying attacks along the way.  No one shouted, “Stop, Jimmy!” No one shouted, “No, that’s dangerous!” Luba had been the only one that cared that he was doing something dangerous, and tried to stop me.  I had to rescue him.
It seemed that Luba was farther away than I had, at first, thought.  I couldn’t count how many blows I had slashed away, and I didn’t want to.  Slash to block, and keep on going, I thought to myself.  Everything I was passing so quickly in a blur, that I didn’t even notice who I had passed.  Had I seen Nemo, Carter, or Merritt--or anyone else from the Revolutionary army, for that matter--I wouldn’t have recognized any of them in this mess.  It was incredible that I made it to Luba at all.
“Luba!” I sprinted the last bit, not wanting to be late, and found that he was just standing there, frozen mid-swing.  I looked around.  In fact, everyone was just standing, frozen, and staring.  Even in the same direction.  I tried to pinpoint where, or who, they were all looking at, but it wasn’t possible they would stare at me.  Why would they even notice me? I checked if my clothes were on and whether or not and found them, even orderly.  I decided to check my hands, and my eyes stopped at my sword.  When I was blocking, my sword couldn’t get covered in blood, right? That means, I concluded, this sword stabbed someone.  I stood stock-still.  But I didn’t stab someone, right?
I frantically searched through the crowd.  Was there anyone who seemed like they just got hurt? I was about to say “No” to myself, but I spotted Merritt laying on the ground with his hand painfully covering a bleeding wound in his side.  No, I couldn’t have done that.  I was just blocking.  I never, ever, hit someone with my sword to hurt them.  It was suddenly dawning on me that sloppy blocking would lead to slashing--and what I was doing was sloppy.
There was a staring contest between everyone who was there.  It went on forever--but now people were turning their heads from me to Merritt, and Merritt to me.  It was as awkward as awkward could be.  I wanted to run to Merritt, screaming his name, but would he want me there since I was the one who made him that way the first place? The dark clouds in the air brewed, getting ready to release its anger as well.
“AHHHH!” Someone from Merritt’s army charged at me.  Startled, I didn’t start moving fast enough, but someone gave me a hard shove--causing me to fall flat on my face, but saving my life at least at that second.  Groaning, I turned onto my back and blinked my eyes open.  There was screaming, shouting, and anguished cries once more--except it somehow seemed even less bearable for me, and it was starting to rain.  Who saved me? As I was struggling back up, I spotted no one there to hold my hand.  The mysterious man has disappeared, but I looked around to spot anyone who might’ve helped me.
Luba.  He winked at me when I spotted him.  I started to shout to him, “Than--” but he had already turned away.  Slightly hurt, I gazed at the floor.  There was even a bubble where no one was there around me.  People really hated me.
Someone patted my shoulder.  “Hey, you should get back to safety, li’l Jimmy.”  I turned around.  It was Adriana.  I was going to respond, but she went back to helping others carry a wounded soldier to the healing spot.  Everyone was turning away from me--and I didn’t like it even though it was me who did it.
As I slowly walked to the so-called “safety,” I thought.  I did it, I thought.  No, don’t think about it.  How Merritt was getting along, I was not sure.  If he would even like me the slightest bit after this, I didn’t think so.  I imagined how Merritt would talk about me to the others later, “Oh, why yes, that traitor called Jimmy that almost killed me.  I remember him very well.”
I didn’t feel very good when I got to the “safe zone,” but Joe was there, and he looked extremely happy for some reason.  “My Jimmy! You are amazing! You defeated the leader, so they cannot hold their formation for much longer.  Give me a hug!” He hugged me, but my arms just hung loosely at my sides.  How was Joe so excited about his? It just wasn’t possible to feel great when you just hurt someone.  Joe made a smooching sound.  “This is great! We are going to win the war after all--and it’s the first battle that I planned.”
Joe started to dance around singing “Promotion! Promotion! Promotion!” in a very un-Joe-like manner.  Perhaps I didn’t know this side of him before.  I inched backwards, getting farther and farther away from Joe.  I only stopped because Adriana came up and said, “Phew! They don’t need me anymore in the medical department.  That was hard!” She paused for a moment and continued, now somber, “So many soldiers were wounded--and even more never to be healed again.”  Her eyes turned as cloudy as the clouds in the sky, and teardrops as big as the rain started running down her cheeks--mixing together.
Boy, she cried really quickly.  I didn’t think hard people who saw so many wounded a day would be able to cry at all.  I knew I wanted to comfort her, but I didn’t know how to in a manner that wasn’t cheesy.  I couldn’t think of anything better to do, so I patted her back and let my sad face show through.  We would cry together to make each other feel better.  After a while, I vaguely wondered why Joe wasn’t here sharing the pain as well, but then I remembered that he didn’t seem to have any regrets about this battle at all.  He didn’t seem to care about the people lost.  But he must care at least a little.  He is a human being--after all.  I decided that it was only because Joe was thinking about the biggest single thing that he didn’t feel anything about the hurt at the moment.  When he that wore off and he thought of the many smaller things, he would feel the bad as well.
“Why did we fight this war, Jimmy?” Adriana asked me.  “It doesn’t feel very good, even now that we won.”
“Everything has a reason,” I replied, quoting Luba.  Luba.  Where are you? Are you getting along well? Had they found out he helped me? Were you fitting in well? I doubted it, and it was my fault yet again.  When would there be a time when I could actually help one of my friends?  So far, I had only dragged them into dangerous situations and left them for one reason or another.  I wasn’t a very great friend.
We stood there, mourning the dead and hurt, while Joe was jumping around, yelling his head off, for a while.  We were thankful the war was over, but the cost was too great.  “Come on, Jimmy,” Adriana said.  “We can’t stand here forever.”  We walked towards the center of the group and disappeared into its mass.

The army trudged through the downpour of the first rain of the year that I had seen as we got back to our camp.  I kept myself going looking towards the sun rays ahead, in the hole in the dark clouds.  We’ll get there sometime.  Sometime later, things are going to be ok.  And, in a while, we did.  The sky was mostly clear above us, but it had somehow lost the beautiful sky blue I had pictured it with.  I looked back at where we had been.  There was a rainbow painted on the clouds, as colorful and beautiful as anything.  We were leaving it behind.

Chapter 12

	It had been a month since the battle that squashed the Revolutionary Army once and for all, never to rise up again in my lifetime.  The articles on the newspapers that spoke of the brave “hero” that won the battle were slowly being superseded by the regular hot topics again, and the number of random interviewers popping up at the door of my new house was dropping down to zero a day, and now a week.
	I had gotten a free house after the battle.  It was nice to have a house, yes, but I wasn’t in love with it because of what it had cost to get it.  Today, I was sitting in my fluffy chair thinking about everything that had happened before and after the Revolutionary Wars.  Joe.  He lived with me now, but he was immersed in writing political articles at the time.  He even had his own daily column.  I couldn’t say that I was proud that he worked on things of that topic, but he enjoyed it, and I wasn’t someone to discourage something he liked.  Adriana was studying to get a medical degree.  She had said that she didn’t want her experience, as stressful as it had been, to go to waste.  She wanted to help people get better her whole life.  She was out in university.  For some reason, Joe hadn’t smiled much, and instead worked even more, since she had left.
	My thought process stopped at the time when I was with Merritt again.  All those people involved were now either wounded and still in the hospital or in this specific set-out area just for them.  Some of the people who had justified this idea said that they were providing comfortable homes for them (because most of them were very poor or had bad homes before Merritt had taken them in).  But I knew that it was a containment site, so they couldn’t start up a new rebellion.  I imagined guards to be stationed at every doorstep and electrical fences 20 feet high surrounding the whole containment.  Luba could even be bullied by the others if they knew he had helped me, the traitor to the revolutionary cause.  I had told the opposing side how they had trained, so they were put into a disadvantage, but I had helped Joe in his career.  Career.  Joe is already into his career.  All I was doing was moping around, I realized.  I had to do something.  But what?

	My days were filled with worry and regret and guilt.  I hated being the “hero” of the war.  I never wanted any side to win in that way.  Killing the leader to create disorder wasn’t a very honorable thing to do.  I didn’t like it one bit.  Merritt was a good guy--it was just that some people hated what he did.  I never thought things would end this way.
	During one of my days, I had this brilliant idea on how I could fix everything.  It was so brilliant that I knew it wouldn’t work.  It was idiotic, suicide, but I had to do something or else I wouldn’t ever do anything ever.  It was nighttime because I couldn’t sleep.  I climbed out of bed and quietly dressed, careful not to wake Joe.  I went into the kitchen and wrote a note:

Dear Joe,
	I may be gone for a long time.  But don’t worry about me.  I’m going to come back safe soon.
Best Buddies Forever,
Jimmy
I stuck it on the refrigerator, eased the door open, and ran out into the darkness, heading towards the place described so often on the news.  I was going to save Luba.

	I had a bad feeling about my rescue quest once I got about a mile away from the house.  I wasn’t very prepared for a long trip.  I was going to get hungry because I had no food, I had no money, and I only brought a light jacket.  It was getting colder by the day.  The leaves that were once a beautiful red had already fallen, leaving the branches of the trees bare.  It was winter.  Why didn’t I think this through? I tortured myself.  I couldn’t head back anymore, though, I had set my goal, and now I had to complete it--or else I would be a failure in everything.
I didn’t take a look backwards as I sprinted with renewed strength into the new night.

I knew the trip would be long, but I didn’t expect this long of one.  I believed it was about a month since I had left Joe to go on the hunt for Luba.  I had to do a few odd jobs in between to get enough money to buy some food.  I didn’t want to steal any food from anyone ever again--that had led to a very long chain of troubles in the past that I didn’t want to repeat.
I ran through the streets throughout the whole day, and mostly all the night.  That training for battle must have made me a lot stronger than I had thought.  My endurance was building up, but it was still being stretched by the sheer amount of time I was running.  I must have run more than a marathon runner in training.
Along the way, I found a little baby pig lost on the street.  I went around looking for a farm or something of the such to know where to return it to.  Finding none, I decided it was going to starve soon if I didn’t give it something to eat.  I gave him a little of the food I had just bought, then a little more, and then a little more.  In the end, I was only left with a crumb of bread, but I still felt good.  Luba Jr., as I called him, was then my travelling buddy as we ventured through the cities and mountains.  Sure, he was something to carry, but he also looked at me and grunted every once in a while when I was tired.  He was so cute.
There was then a day when I noticed something exciting--there was something I recognized around me.  I didn’t know what it was that was familiar, but I just knew something about the place was.  At first, I thought that I had gone in a circle, and, having not been there for a long time, didn’t exactly recognize the area I had gotten my house.  Looking around, I decided that it wasn’t the house--I was at the other place that I would recognize.  I was near Luba.
	I had my first great idea in about a century.  I was going to sneak in and not attract so much attention.  I was brilliant, yet it was hard to do once I got there.  First of all, I couldn’t just leave Luba Jr. there on the path where he could get lost and hungry again.  Second, there were guards positioned outside every entrance I spotted thus far.  Things weren’t looking great for the “Luba Rescue Team,” as I was calling Luba Jr. and I to make it a little more playful.
	Holding Luba Jr., I crawled around the fence surrounding the whole encampment area.  I was at least a little right; there was a fence around it, but I was not sure if it was electrically charged.  Better not find out.  I searched with him for the longest time ever, and I still didn’t find a hole in the security bigger than one of those regular diamond-shaped holes in the fence that were there because the walls weren’t completely solid.  There must be a way in.
	About an hour later, I hit my head with my hand.  I should’ve dug a hole.  I could make the hole big enough to get in.  Feeling stupid because I didn’t think of the idea earlier, but not so much since I thought of it at all, I selected a stick with a relatively good length from the ground that was also strong, and started to dig close to the fence.  I had to put Luba Jr. down so I could use both of my hands to make it go faster.  He was poking around in the dirt.  I suddenly plopped him on the hole I had been making with my stick, and, as I hoped, he started digging.  He was way faster than I was, and I could somewhat help as well.
	It looked really fast at first, but, by the time we had finished, it was already nightfall.  The sun was gone, and we were sore from laying there all that time and cold.  I debated with myself if I wanted to just go in for the action right away, or if I should risk the extra day where I could be spotted but would get more information about the area.  I was being a Luba, considering all the choices before I acted.  He was good that way, and I needed to rescue him.
	In the end, I decided to risk more time, so I could consider more choices because I had my mind set on how Luba was great.  I wanted to prove it in every way possible.  It felt good to have something set in mind to do, for once.  It felt concrete.  I leaned on the idea, and moved forwards with it.
	I stuffed the hole with a pile of twigs so they would be less likely to be seen.  Yes, I sarcastically thought to myself, this gigantic bundle of twigs stuck directly in the ground wouldn’t be conspicuous at all, since there was an average of one twig per twenty-five square feet in this place.  But, it was better than having a big gaping hole in the ground where a nonexistent rabbit must have dug in the middle of winter.
	Luba Jr. and I slept in a bush because, then, we would be covered and safe until the morning.  I had to say, bushes were good insulators if they didn’t have any holes in them.  The only thing I had to complain about was that the bush we slept in had holes everywhere, so it was not warm at all.  Like any other night sleeping in the wilderness, I thought of Joe back at the house, and also the house itself.  Was he taking my sudden leave well? Was the house warm? I wanted the house to be warm.  He shouldn’t have to be cold as well.
	I don’t have to be here freezing to death, I thought all of a sudden.  No, I shot a counter argument back to myself, I have to be here--for Luba! Luba the great guy.  Luba the guy I betrayed.  Luba the guy that is suffering because of me.  He didn’t have to help me, making his situation worse.  My brain was in ruins again, debating with itself.  I didn’t know what to do, but I tried to make the “Save Luba!” side win.  It had to be right, since it involved saving a person.  I couldn’t bear thinking about what could be happening to Luba at the moment.  He could be crying in a corner because I didn’t come to save him earlier.  He could be--
	I finally decided I shouldn’t make up these stories that probably weren’t real.  No, Luba wouldn’t ever sit in a corner and cry--he was stronger than that.  It seemed to put my mind to, at least, power-saver mode, and everything turned into a blank nothingness as I fell asleep.

Chapter 13

	I woke up still slightly tired.  I guessed it was because I was thinking too hard for too long last night.  Luba Jr. was still curled up in a ball and sleeping.  I wasn’t going to let anyone hurt him.  I was going to bring him back to the house to Joe with Luba--that was the plan.  I took out the last of the food from my pocket.  It wasn’t much, and that was it.  I hoped that Luba had some food in there.
	Feeding Luba Jr. half of it, and gobbling the rest myself, we were ready to go in for the final stage in the “Saving Luba” quest.  I pulled out the bundle of twigs I stuffed in the hole from yesterday, and placed Luba Jr. into it.  He crawled through the hole and came out of the other side.  It was my turn.  Head-first, I squeezed myself into the tunnel barely enough to push my head through.  I twisted and turned my body, and, somehow, stuck my head through the other end.  There was beautifully clear air, but I was stuck.  My feet were still on the other side of the hole with nothing within reach to use as leverage.  Also, my hands were basically glued to my sides.  Why did I literally go head-first?
	I used my middle-body strength for a while, getting a tenth of a centimeter closer to getting my hands out every time, while Luba Jr. was oinking motivation.  I wasn’t getting anywhere soon.  I was thinking about giving up and just laying there until my hands magically burst out of the hole, or something.
	That was when I heard a sudden boom of laughter.  Someone was close.  What if it was a guard? I thought.  I panicked.  And with a sudden burst of strength, I broke out of the hole that had trapped me and sprinted into the groups of houses, jumping in to the part that involved me searching for Luba.
	At the time, I didn’t think about how there would be more people looking in the highly populated and popular areas, but I wasn’t exactly thinking that much at the time.  Perhaps waiting the night wasn’t a very good idea, seeing that there would be more people during the day.  I had planned only to scout that day, but I had jumped into my full-out hero mode.  I was either going to save Luba that day, or I was going to get caught trying.  It was the day of action--and there was action, indeed.
	All that was running through my mind was an infinite loop of “Where’s Luba? Where’s Luba?” He had to be somewhere.  So far, I hadn’t seen anyone on the streets since the people I heard when I was struggling out of the hole I made.  I decided it was a good sign--I wouldn’t be spotted.  I started looking through windows when I couldn’t find anyone out and about.  I couldn’t say that I was proud of peeking into whatever people were doing in there, but I had to find out where Luba was.
	I finally spotted him in a bed.  Finding the door of the house he was in, I tried the door handle to see if it was unlocked.  It was, surprisingly, so.  Taking the chance, I opened the door and tippy-toed into Luba’s room.  He was actually snoring, and didn’t look stressed one bit.  I took a step closer, and the floor creaked so loud that I figured that the whole camp-like place would be alerted of my presence.
	It turned out that only Luba was, after a while.  He grumbled a little and peeked open his eyes.  They turned wide as they focused on me.
	He suddenly sat up.  “Hey, Jimmy, you’re here!” he exclaimed.
	“Yeah, I’m here to rescue you Luba.”  It now sounded a little silly, since I saw him laying so comfortably on his fluffy bed.  It seemed like I had woken him up from his peaceful dreaming.
	“Do you mean you want me to go to the house that was given to you? Well, at least the newspapers said they gave you a house.”
	Luba even had newspapers to read.  I had probably disturbed him from what was a pretty easy life.  A little more awkward now, I replied, “Um, yes Luba.  Want to come live with me and Joe? You didn’t meet Joe before, right? He’s this guy who…” I had just realized that he was on the opposite side in the war that was just fought.  Luba had probably heard of him.  The news reporters had covered him a lot.  “The little teenager that had turned the tides of the war” they called him.  He was a star--who wouldn’t notice the start, especially when that person had access to the outside world? I was beginning to doubt that it was good that I had come.
	“Anyways, Jimmy, if you want me to come, I would gladly go.  I think I just have to check out in the residential desk.  Some of the others might get to have a little more space if I leave.”  Luba looked like he was listing all the things he had to do.  When he was doing that, I decided it would be good for me to think a little myself.
	Luba had mentioned checking out in the residential desk.  That meant that someone here did control the leaving and staying in this place.  But it didn’t seem that harsh here; Luba thinking about others getting even more space, and his bed, and others.  Perhaps it wasn’t in total lockdown as I thought it was.  Also, this place might not be a containment site as I had thought before.  It could genuinely be a spot to house the homeless revolutionaries.  There was only one problem.
	“Luba, why are there fences surrounding this place?”
	“Oh Jimmy, those are to keep all of those big, hungry wolves out.  You know how much wilderness surrounds this place, right? No one wants those tearing us up.” He responded a little blandly.
	“But how about the guards blocking all of the entrances?”
“Ooh, did you meet Carl? He’s one of the ones authorizing entrances to this little town.  There are a lot of things that are pretty precious in this little town, and it isn’t fun when they are stolen.”
That just wiped out all of the logic I was thinking up.  Perhaps it was actually a nice little town the government had made that was for the good of them.  Perhaps I had thought wrongly.  For another time, I doubted myself.  When there would be a time where I was not wrong, I did not know.  I could be wrong for the rest of eternity, I joked with myself, making me feel even worse.
“Well, uhh, if would you like to come with me, Luba?” I asked him.
“Sure, Jimmy.  I’ll go wherever you want me to go.  I just have to tell a few people.”  He then suddenly changed the topic.  “Do you want to shower?  You look like you crawled through a muddy hole!”
Was I dirty? I examined my clothes, and found that they were.  My face might have had dirt on it as well.  I agreed to shower and dress a little nicer.  Luba showed me his closet where he kept a few snazzy clothes.  He told me that I could take any to wear, and left to do what he had to do before he left.
After he went out the door, I started cleaning myself.  I noticed that I hadn’t for more than a month already.  I was surprised Luba didn’t say much about it.  I must have smelled very, very bad.  Probably like that manure.  Pig man--I suddenly remembered Luba Jr..  How did I forget about him? At first, I was searching around the house, but, a few minutes later, I literally slapped my head with my hand and face-palmed myself.  I had left him when I burst out of the tunnel I was stuck in.
“No, no, no, no, no.” I burst open the door, and almost stepped on Luba.  He was crouched down to the ground.
Luba looked up at me.  “Isn’t this little piggy so cute?”  Luba Jr. was there nuzzling Luba’s hand.  They had met.
“Luba Junior!” I shouted and scooped up my little pig.  I might have startled Luba because he flinched a little, but then settled down.
“Is his name Luba Jr.?” Luba asked, looking amused.
“Yes, his name is Luba Jr. and he is my buddy that I traveled with to get here,” I replied, a little sheepishly.
“Did the news reporters give you a pig as well?” Luba was joking, but I wanted to answer it anyways.
“I found him along the way.  Do you like his name, Luba Jr.?”
	“It’s sort of ok to me.  Can we make his name a little different than mine, though? How about Lub.  And add a Fat Pig at the end.”  He wanted to make a name that would be funny.  My little piggy was supposed to be named for Luba, I reasoned with myself, so he should have a say on his name.  I decided it was ok, but a straight out “fat” was a little offensive, even if Luba Jr. was a little chubby since he was a pig.
	“How about, when we spell it, replace the ‘a’ in ‘fat’ with an ‘o’?”  Luba agreed, and Luba Jr. was then named LubFotPig.  It was a little long, so we shortened it to “Lubby.”  We all liked the name--Lubby even oinked his approval.
	After a some petting--and ooh-ing and aah-ing--, Luba continued going out and doing things that needed to be done for him to properly unregister from the town, and Lubby and I cleaned ourselves.  He was squeaky clean after I was done with him.  When we looked great, me with nice clothes and everything, Luba came in the door, and we all headed through the door to the exit gate.  We were going home.

Chapter 14

	After we had walked for about an hour, Luba asked me, “So, do you have a ride to your house?”
	Was Luba expecting a ride home? But I didn’t tell him that I had ran all the way to him in hopes of saving him from a treacherous land that would torture him forever and ever.  I was slightly off from the real situation, but I got there and was getting him hone.  “Ride?” I asked.
	Luba looked slightly confused.  “How did you get here?”
	Here would be the long and odd explanation.  “Um, so, you see, I sort of ran here to get you home sooner because I thought you were in trouble, and--”
	Luba held his hand up with his palm facing me.  He looked like he was trying to hold down his laughter, though his mouth was still curving upwards.  “It’s alright, Jimmy.  I see you had fun getting here.”  Luba reached into his pants’ pocket.  “It’s a good thing that they gave us a little money for a goodbye gift.” His pocket produced a wad of pure cash that was a few inches thick.
	I was dumbstruck by the sheer amount of paper in his hand.  Luba continued, “Too bad it’s all in one dollar bills.”  He cracked up by himself, but I was still there staring at the biggest pile of money I had ever seen.
	After a while, during the trip, I got over how big the pile was, and we used it to buy more food and other supplies on the walking trip.  The walk home actually wasn’t as long as I thought it would be, considering how long it took me to run it.  It had taken me a month of running and basically not sleeping, but I guessed I was running in circles.  It took us a few days less than a month to get to the house.  It’s a wonder how much planning could do for you.
	At first, when we were walking, we were talking a lot about what had happened and the such.  Luba described his wonderful stay in the town in the middle of the wilderness.  He hadn’t made that many friends, he had said, and he had also said that none of them were as good of a friend as me.  Luba was my best buddy as well, I thought.  Suddenly, I also thought of Joe.  What would I call him, then? Did I just forget about Joe again? No, I said to myself, Joe is my best buddy. I had found a loophole to put my two favorite people on the same, highest spot.  I noticed that it was my first argument that made sense.  Because this is true, I noted.
	I had talked about how great Joe was.  He was always there, but I had left him.  It was all my fault, yet he was still there for me.  In fact, I noticed, I had left him again to pursue another goal--find Luba.  He was still right at home.  Waiting for me while Luba was right ahead, so I could move forwards.  I noticed how I had such great friends.
	Nearing the end of the trip, Luba and I had taken to examining the wildlife if we were in the wilderness, and listening to the bustling traffic if we were in a city.  It wasn’t as if we were tired of each other.  We were listening to the life around us, and seeing how we fit in.  We fit in just fine.
	The last day of our walking trip came one day.  It was actually morning.  We could have gotten here the day before.  Instead of bullying myself for not getting back to Joe sooner, however, I thought of how this part of the journey was ending, and how a new one would begin soon.  We climbed up the stairs and onto the high porch.
	Once we got to the doorsteps of the house, though, I was suddenly nervous.  How would Joe react since I was gone for such a long time? I pretty much didn’t tell him anything when I left.
	While I was debating to myself whether or not I should open the door at that moment, Luba rung the doorbell.  “I’m finally going to meet Joe! I like all those stories you told me about him.  He seems like a really caring guy.”
	Luba had decided the moment I would meet Joe again.  This time, I couldn’t decide if I wanted his help deciding.  I didn’t exactly leave on a good note.  But, I sighed and readied myself.  He was going to come now, whatever I did.  My fate was decided.
	The door opened without a single bad sounding creak.  I shouldn’t have been surprised--the house was new--but I somehow was.  Joe peeked out.  “Jimmy! Where have you been? And--” He sort of whipped around to face Luba, and then Lubby.  “who are they?”
	I could see that Luba was surprised.  Yes, seems caring and gentle at the moment, I sarcastically commented to myself.
	Luba recovered from his shock pretty quickly.  “Hi there.  I believe your name is Joe.  My name is Luba, and this little piggy’s name is LubFotPig or Lubby.”
	Joe, probably finding no other thing to do that would make his outburst nicer, greeted, “Hello there, Luba and Lubby.”
	The beginning was mighty shaky, but, after some time, we got along well.  The awkwardness faded away, and we were all buddies.  We even bought another pig to be Lubby’s pal.  We lived in the house, and went out to buy some things every once in a while.
	Every weekend night, we had a “game night.” Though we should have moved away from those litle kid toys a long time ago, we all still enjoyed playing with them.  We were all these “old teens” but we could also have fun.  It was the weekend, and we were sifting through our growing pile of games to find the perfect one for the night.  I got all the way to the bottom, and found a deck of cards.  I thought it would be a good difference if we played a non-board game for once, so I took them out.  The print on the back of the cards was a smiley face.  It looked far too familiar for me to forget it.  It looked like an exact copy of the deck I had lost so long ago--when I had just been taken in by Merritt.
	In fact, it looked like it was actually mine.  “My deck of cards! How did it get here?”
	Luba looked up at me.  “Those were yours?” He was embarrassed for some reason.  I didn’t know how he would get my cards.  “I found them one day on the ground all scattered on the ground.  I think it was the day we found Merritt talking.”  He squinted his eyes, as if it would help him remember it better.  “Anyways, I just thought that it would be bad to let them stay there.  I picked them up, and put them in the box that was also on the floor and kept it in my pocket.”
	I still held it up to my eyes, not believing the impossible.  It really was here--my most prized possession.  “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I repeated my thanks, jumping up and down with the deck of cards in my hands.  It was beautiful.
	We played a card game with the cards that day.  When we were playing  the game, however, we noticed that one of the cards was missing.  It wasn’t that important of a card--just a four that was a spade--but it was a card that was missing.
	“Hm, maybe I forgot to pick it up after it dropped?” Luba questioned himself.
	“Or maybe it fell onto Mars,” Joe joked.
	It was then that I remembered that the card that was missing was the ripped card I had found that day--the card with the ripped smile.  I told Luba and Joe about it and, when we continued our game, I thought about it.  It would have hurt more if it was one of those whole cards, but it still hurt nonetheless.  Something I had had disappeared, but the game had gone on.  The night went by, and the new day came.
It was on one of those days where the temperature was perfect.  I was sitting in my fluffy chair again, and there were happy thoughts going along with it this time.  I thought of all of the things I, Luba, Joe, Adriana, and all the others I had met along the way, had gone through together.  There was a lot of confusion  involved, yes, but we got through being even better.
There were times that I felt utterly alone, but those times now weren’t just sour--now they were kind of sweet as well.  I remembered how I almost jumped out of my skin when Luba had first come up to me.  I smiled to myself.  It was the best thing that had happened to me--Luba.  I remembered the beginning of it all--when Joe and I were still in the alleyways sleeping when we were freezing.  I had wanted to do something big.  I had thought that “Someday, we are going to do something big and get a nice, warm room with blankets.”  I guessed that we did do those things, though it was already summer.


Merritt’s Diary--the Final Pages

Dear Diary,

I haven’t written for a while now.  I guess I was a little wrapped up in the war that was going on.  Was this all my doing? The bombs and gunshots and hatred.  It’s all too much for me, though I try to hide it when others are around.

What would the lady who gave me my beginning fund think about me now? I really don’t think that she would have thought it would have brought this much violence.  From all of what the others were saying and doing, apparently, this fighting is supposed to bring peace.  Perhaps it would be stunned peace, but that isn’t the peace that I would think of when I thought of the word.

On another note, even though some that were lost were not found, they were known to be… dead.  Oh how I shudder when I even think about that word.  Anywho, back to what I was saying, I believe that dear Jimmy was taken into the opposing group.  I do so care about him, like any of the other people I had taken in.  I can’t imagine what kind of terrible things may be happening to him.  I wouldn’t want anyone to be in any more pain.  That was why I started this cause in the first place.  Who knew that this would happen…

There were also these canards speaking of this “murderous killer” called Merritt.  I wouldn’t know who would come up with an idea so far from the truth.  I had never...killed...anyone in my entire life.  Those swords on the wall? Did anyone know of high-class decoration? Who would need a hundred swords anyways? No, I’ll calm myself down.  I’ll keep my cool.  This is all for the people--them.  They’ll know the truth sooner or later.

But, I still hope this will be over soon--for the better or worse.

Merritt