by Michelle N. Broughton

Created on: July 19, 2008

"Help me!" screamed Bobby Harris. "Help me. I'm drowning!"

Earlier Bobby had been playing by the gully in the woods behind his house, a favorite hangout for him and his friends. The day before a rainstorm filled it with deep, fast-running water. He could barely see the old tree stump lodged in the bottom of the ditch further down, its one ragged branch rising above the water. Bobby played alone since no one else was outside.

As he left the house, his mom warned him to stay in the back yard. She knew he and his friends liked to wade in the ditch, but the storm water made it a dangerous place to play. Bobby grew bored with tossing the basketball through the hoop alone. Looking to be sure his mom couldn't see, he hurried through the fence gate. Minutes later, he stood beside the ditch. Watching the angry water, he wondered how deep it was and if he could wade across to the other side.

Spurts of dirty water splashed into his face as he sat on the wet ground and stuck his right foot into the rampant flood waters. Still, it didn't seem so dangerous. Moving closer, an inch at a time, he eased both feet in deeper and deeper, until the grass ended and the dirt turned to mud. The mud acted like a sliding board, sending him into the water and under the raging stream.

Struggling to the surface, Bobby used all of his swimming skills to keep his head above water. Carried down the ditch so fast, it was impossible to stand up. Bump! He hit the tree stump. Grabbing onto the strong wood, he grasped it for dear life and screamed for help.

When it seemed he had been in the water for hours and had given up hope of anyone hearing him, he saw a boy walking along the ditch toward him. When the person got closer, Bobby's heart sank. It was Greg Wyman, who wouldn't be any help at all! Greg the Keg, that's what he and his friends called the fat boy. Not only was he overweight, he was retarded. How many times had he yelled out, "Greg the Keg, whatcha using for brains? NOTHING! Nothing at all, 'cause you ain't got any!" All of his friends laughed. Greg didn't laugh; he tried to smile, but it turned into sobs as he ran away from the bullies, his strange lurching gait added to their laughter.

When he got nearer, Greg saw Bobby in the water. Running over to him on short, stout legs, he stopped on the bank across from him, recognizing the person who always made fun of him and called him names.

"Help me, Greg. Please, help me!" Bobby begged. The other boy turned his back and ran away. "Greg, come

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