My fight-or-flight response takes over, and I ignore the sharp pain in my rib as I move backwards into a fighting stance. Not like I stand a chance against so many grown-ups, especially including Mr. Sunderland, but you can bet I won't be going down without a fight.

"So this is a vendetta for Rude, isn't it?" I spit, trying my best to sound menacing. "This is why you lured me out here, to the middle of nowhere."

And then, the whole crowd of people exchange looks before exploding in laughter like a bunch of mad drunken pirates, Mr. Sunderland included.

"What's so funny?!"

"Ok, I'll go first," a tall and lean guy says, cracking his knuckles and taking a step forward.

Mr. Sunderland stops him by placing a hand on his shoulder. "Relax, Ajax. We're not fighting today." Then he turns an apologetic smile at me. "No offense, Mr. Foster, but you don't seem to be in any shape to fight anyone."

"Try me," I tell him, tightening my right fist. I can't close the casted one.

"Please, be at ease. This isn't what you think."

"Why should I trust anything you have to say?" I challenge, now more ready to jump at him than to get out of this farm.

"Do you really think I need to drag you all the way here and threaten you with a group of people if I wanted to harm you?"

"You tell me."

"I tell you, boss. Let me deal with this twig," Ajax pushes, trying to wedge himself in front.

Mr. Sunderland suddenly wields his usual frown, and his thunder-commanding voice echoes across the fields. "I told you to stand down, Ajax. Nobody is fighting today. And that includes you, too, Mr. Foster."

The short guy from before walks up to me and chuckles. "Actually the boss is right, pal. First of all, you don't stand a chance, no matter how tough you are. And even then, the boss didn't bring you here for a beat-up."

"Why am I here, then?" I say, not quite abandoning my stance.

"You heard about The Fist, and how we did unspeakable things and have the whole town in check," Short guy starts explaining. "But that dung is actually only half true."

"Thank you, Ralph. I'll take it from here," Mr. Sunderland says, and turns once again to me. "Please. Give us the chance to show you we're different."

"I will still fight you if you want, though," Ajax insists.

Mr. Sunderland rolls his eyes. "Are you done assembling the materials for the greenhouse, Ajax?"

"Uh. You asked me to take care of that an hour ago, boss."

"Then go make yourself useful and resume that task. Weren't you the one suggesting we should also try house plants?"

"I was."

"Then we need the greenhouse up and ready before spring. Now go." He raises his voice further to address the rest of them. "I want whoever isn't working the land helping him. You're all dismissed."

Color me impressed, the whole crowd disperses at that order, leaving me alone again with Zeus. Are these crazy-ass farmers really the feared Fist?

"Sorry about that. Ajax is a good man, but he's passionate about good brawls."

I stand straight, finally allowing myself to relax. "You're not The Fist, are you?"

"We are, and we aren't," Mr. Sunderland replies, motioning for me to walk with him. "The accurate term would be 'we used to be'."

"It's kind of hard to believe that the dangerous gang in town had a sudden change of heart and decided to grow veggies," I say, noticing I sound accusatory.

"It is very hard to believe when you put it that way," he acknowledges. "I have one question for you. Why do you think people commit crimes, John?"

"I don't know. Maybe because it's easier than doing the right thing."

"In general, that sounds true," he says, looking ahead. "In some other cases, they may see no other way. After all, very few people are ready to trust a delinquent."

I want to ask him what is his point, but I remain silent, letting him do the talking. I have a feeling I'll never learn what's going on here otherwise.

"Utopia Ranch didn't exist two years ago," he continues. "We all were part of The Fist you heard about. The ones who did all the things you told me about last week at the hospital. Bullying, extortion, stealing, nothing was beyond us."

"What changed?"

"The gang's leader," he says, his voice now searing the air in front of him, and for a while, he goes silent, letting out a frustrated sigh. "The previous leader had very clear plans for The Fist. He wanted to have the entire town at his mercy. He asserted that kind of dominance through fear. You were either with him, or against him. No grey areas. No in-betweens."

"Sounds like Rude," I sputter in a burst of honesty.

"Rudolph seems to share the same traits, yes," Mr. Sunderland agrees, allowing his mouth to curve into an easy smile. He really isn't the same unbending individual giving classes at Maple Heights High, but I don't point that out. "His father is in jail right now following the orders of the previous leader of The Fist."

"So he actually murdered Scarborough's mother."

Mr. Sunderland swallows hard. "He did. And that's as far as I tolerated where the gang was headed. It was the first time such an order was issued, and I made sure it was the last."

It doesn't take a genius to realize this is how Mr. Sunderland became the new leader. I wonder if he has actual blood on his hands, too. And also, I wonder to what extent that would be a bad thing.

Assuming all of this is true and not just a big pile of dung, that is.

"And I knew that I wasn't the only one against this. Not the only one wanting out. And when I took over leadership, and also acquired control of the gang finances, Utopia Ranch became a reality. Our way out of crime. Our way to turn the page and make things right. After all, most of the people you met today just needed a chance. The majority of them were pushed into crime out of necessity. People need to eat and procure shelter. Some of them also have families who depend on them. Most of them jumped right in when I offered them a way out of crime, even if it meant tilling land every waking hour for months."

"Most but not all?"

"Unfortunately, crime is easier than doing the right thing. It took us months of hard work to get our first harvest. None of us knew how to work the land. The gang's funds were not only spent in building Utopia Ranch, but also for securing financial stability for those working in it. And that was only half the work. We also had to sell our products. Quickly, too. Can't have months of hard work rotting in the barn. And trust me on this; it's easier to deal with drugs than it is to sell carrots, Mr. Foster. And profit margins are also way lower."

At this point I only have one question left for him. "What happened with those who didn't want to work on the Ranch?"

"We try to convince them, even to this day. Some of them had to see results to actually make the choice."

"How many people left to bring here?"

"We have four people to convince. Three now that Mr. Riggs will be out of town," he replies, giving me a hopeful smile. "Or maybe two. We've heard word that one of them actually found a nine-to-five job in Preston."

Utopia Ranch. A place for those who want out of the crime path. A chance for those who don't fear doing the right thing. The idea sounds great on paper. "I want to help."

"With what, exactly?"

"I don't know. I've never done any kind of work like you guys do here. But if I can do anything to help, I'll be glad to."

"We certainly can use more hands," he says, turning on the brightness of his smile. "I'm afraid the pay won't be great, though."

"I'm not in it for the money, sir."

"Please, call me Eugene. We're all equals in Utopia Ranch. Even though everyone else like to call me 'boss' around here."

"That would mean I'm just John from now on," I tell him, offering a handshake.

"It is settled then, John," he says, accepting the hand and shaking my entire skeleton in the process. "But you have to make sure your wounds heal first."

"I don't think my mother would have it any other way."

"In the meantime, you can come whenever you want. I'm sure you'll learn a thing or two watching what everyone else does around here. And there's a more immediate issue I'd like to tackle, and I believe your presence would be invaluable."

"What would that be?"

"I understand Mr. Newton and you are friends, from what little I managed to speak to Mrs. Newton. I believe it's in his best interest to be able to go back to school, as soon as possible. He already lost last year, and I want to do everything I can to make sure he doesn't also lose this one. Do you think we can do something about it?"

My eyes grow wide in expectation. I can't believe my ears. Could it be possible? It would be awesome if Newt could come back to school with Lyle and me. "I sure hope so!" But then realization hits me. "But I don't know for sure... He does resent The Fist for what happened. It will be tough to make him come out of it, let alone forgive."

"I thought we could show them a sign of good faith. Repair the damage to their property. Help his mother get her business running again. Of course, we have funds to spare if it's something affordable."

"Newt is not unreasonable. It's worth a try."

"Great. I'll get a team ready as soon as we sort out the details. I'll let you know when."

After that, Zeus and I exchange phone numbers (I have freaking Zeus' phone number now!), and decide to get this done tomorrow. This day was absolutely surreal. Rude kicked out of school and town, The Fist actually turning into a bunch of good-hearted farmers for the most part, and a chance to get Newt back to high school? Man. Nobody is going to believe me. It all sounds like I fell into a completely different dimension, pretty much overnight.

If only Abigail picked up the phone to hear the news. But, alas, all three of my attempts that night go straight to voicemail.