The Author (Chapter 1)

Emmett shut the kitchen door behind him and started down the cobbled walkway. He turned the corner and followed the sidewalk until it collided into the back alleys that he traveled everyday on his way to the park. He had made a custom of going to the local park once a day, using the free time to write his daily journal entry. He liked being outdoors, it helped him to feel at peace (at least, temporarily) and made writing down his thoughts much simpler.

He'd been keeping his journal logged ever since his ninth birthday. It had been one of his presents from Mr. Mckinzie; one that he?d unwrapped at the restaurant. At first, Emmett had thought it a pretty lame gift. The book was nice-leather bound with bronze linings and his name inscribed into the cover-but the idea of a journal sounded kind of stupid to him at the time. But when Mr. Mckinzie passed away the next day, Emmett decided that he would honor the gift and write in the book everyday without fail. And to his surprise, he actually liked doing it once he'd got into the habit. In his little book, he could bitch about all of the things that bothered him in his life. And sometimes, just complaining about it really helped him feel relieved. It was a way for him get things off of his chest.

But lately, even writing his journal entries, he couldn't seem to lift his spirits. When Emmett put it into words in his mind, he could honestly say that he no longer had anything to live for. Living was just a tedious chore that he carried out because he didn't know any other way to go about it.

Sitting at the park on the bench that rested underneath an enormous pine tree, Emmett put aside his feelings and filled his diary with another day's events; telling of how he was jumped at school for no particular reason, and then moving on to his wonderful and enlightening conversation with Hank. After he finished writing out his entry, he sat and watched the children chasing each other up on the playground, silently envying their happiness.

After a time, something caught his attention. He heard someone shouting his name. He turned to see the last people he would have ever wanted to meet here.

Over on the basketball court, not too far from where he was sitting, stood the gang of bullies that had jumped him up earlier in the day. He noticed that the ringleader-a boy by the name of Stuart Fisher-was pointing in his direction, drawing the attention of his lackeys to Emmett's retreat.

Emmett knew better than to sit and hope that they'd leave him alone. He tossed his diary into his knapsack and made a dash for it, heading for the back alleys that he?d gotten here by. Emmett was remarkably quick for a boy his size. It was a skill that he had acquired from his years of being bullied. He was very short, but he could make those legs move like lightning when he needed to. And so he did, fleeing like a flash towards the alleyways. He was sure that he could lose them in the tangle of passageways, he knew those alleys a hell of a lot better than they did. But as he looked back to check his progress, he felt his stomach drop.

They had bikes.

He was outnumbered five to one, and there was no way he was going to make it to the alley in time. Not slowing in the slightest, Emmett kept on running, keeping his eyes open for something-anything!-that might be of assistance. Scanning the grassy floor, Emmett spotted a large stick over to his left. He took a turn off course and grabbed the fallen branch, knocking it against his shin to test its durability. He then turned and started running slowly in the direction he'd started. But he was careful not to run too fast. He wanted the boy in the lead to catch up. He had a plan.

The fastest of the boys pulled up beside Emmett and attempted to grab him by his backpack. Emmett ducked the boy's attempt and slammed the stick into the spokes of his front wheel. The branch held, stopping the wheel with a jolt and sending the boy over his handlebars. The boy slammed the ground with a dull thud, landing on the flat of his back and knocking the air from his lungs. Emmett took the offer of a free blow and kicked the boy in his stomach as he ran past. He figured that if he could disable even one from the fight, then it would be one less person to pound his face.