With Simon as chief, things would have been different. He wouldn’t have just told the boys what to do—he would have led by example. Instead of demanding that shelters be built, he would have started building them himself, and the others, seeing his quiet determination, would have followed. “They’re no good on their own,” he would have told Ralph and Jack, gesturing to the littluns, who clung to him like younger brothers. He made sure they were fed, that the fire was always burning, and that everyone had a job. Jack, of course, wouldn’t have liked it. “You can’t lead by being soft,” he would have sneered. But when the boys willingly followed Simon instead of him, Jack’s frustration would have grown.

That frustration would have turned into something worse. Jack’s hunters, bored and restless, wanted more excitement. “We should be hunting,” Jack insisted, but Simon shook his head. “Meat won’t get us rescued.” Ralph, instead of being in charge, would have stood by Simon’s side, grateful to have someone who actually listened. Even Piggy, so often ignored, would have been valued. “We’re not just surviving,” Simon had told him one night. “We have to remember what it means to be human.” For a while, things might have worked.

But fear changes everything. When the boys started whispering about the beast, Simon saw the shift right away. “Maybe the beast isn’t real,” he said carefully, but the others weren’t willing to listen. Fear was easier to follow than reason. Jack, seeing his chance, turned on Simon. “He’s afraid to hunt it,” he said, rallying his hunters against their quiet leader. And just like that, everything Simon had built started to fall apart. Even though he had tried to keep them together, even though he had led with kindness, the boys still gave in to the darkness. Because, in the end, it wasn’t the beast in the jungle that was the real problem—it was the one inside them all.