{Buddy Ledwidge Tale} Chapter 4: After Freedom

I was finally free, but i felt... lonely.

I was halfway home and yet , i have had a huge target on my back . Collage drop outs think it is really funny to try and hit a stray kid. I was flushed in the face and body reeked of the smell of sweat. I guess it was a great thing that i got water at school. If i hadn't , i would probably have to reduced to drink my own urine (which is the best thing to drink if you have no water an no other liquid.) and don't think "Eww!" as i just explained, it is dead helpful. But... nasty taste.

Would you rather die or drink your own urine if you knew that you were about to die and not very far away from a place were water is always there? Yeah urine would be best. (Sorry, talking about it is kind of freaking me.)

I had to stick close to the highway to navigate my way home. But i was sure i had made one mile, being on the track team and running five miles everyday. My house was three miles away and yet i have been out of school for one hour. Ugh. This was going to take forever!

I arms were hurting from the weight of the bag. I stopped to relax. Why did this have to happen. I barely even remembered why i left school. What was everyone i left behind thinking of at this time? Probably, Where's Buddy?

I took off the bag and laid it one the ground. Then i sat on it. It wasn't cozy like furniture from Lazy-Boy or Rooms-To-Go. But it was still something. I felt what i was sitting on. It was regtangular and hard.

I pulled the bag out from under me and reached in to what i was sitting on. My hand made contact with the object and i pulled it out.

It was (it always was) a book. Richard's book. A stab of pain hit me and without even forcing it. A tear fell from my face. Or maybe it was just sweat.
I opened the book to the first page and in ink was signed "Dear Richard, Hope you enjoy my book and beware of Dark World. H.J. Ralles."

Here in my hands was proof that richard did live.

I bent my head shaking. There was a whoosh! Then a breaking of glass and some liquid made contact with my face. I looked ahead of me and saw a broken beer bottle. I looked around for the scource. A car was near me and a man rolled down his window.

He must be in his seventeens or something like that. But he was grinning and luaghing. I looked at him with confussion and words came from the Drivers side and the driver's head popped out of the sun roof.

"Ronnie? Did you get him? Did you hit the runaway?" he asked with amusment in his voice.

They were trying to hit me? Why?

"No! You move the car to fast! How am i suppose to hit him at sixity miles per hour?" said the guy Ronnie, anger in his voice.

"I was driving only thirty-five! So don't yell at me!" snapped the driver.

I picked up a rock from the ground. I stood up, anger filling my veins. Being hit by cars was one thing but beer bottles? They are dead!

The driver and his buddy didn't miss my movements and i heard the guy named Ronnie yell to his friend to "MOVE!" and the car roared to life.
I took aim. Then chucked it. I turned around before i heard the sound of glass breaking and shreiks of anger peirce the air.

I looked around and saw the truck turn around and seem to charge at me.
"Oh shit! Son of a Bitch!" i groaned.

I ran with book and instrument in my hand. Leaving the bag behind.