3

3

 

"Get inside," I said, pulling on B.B.'s shoulder. He came in without a word.

     "B.B., do you want anything?" my dad asked him. B.B. used to come over a lot at night when he had a problem, and my dad got used to it.

     B.B. shook his head, no.

     "Dad, go back to bed," I said, pulling a beach towel out of the hall closet where Dad got the bat, which I took from him and put away. "I can handle this."

     He yawned and nodded, turning and heading back towards the stairs.

     "Take this and dry off," I said to B.B., handing him the towel. He stiffly took it and wrapped it around himself. He took off his glasses, and I took them, taking them to the kitchen and drying them off with a drying rag that was hanging off of the stove handle. B.B. walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table, and I handed him his glasses back.

     "What happened this time?" I asked him, getting a 'Fruitables' out of the fridge and handing it to him. I picked mine up from the counter and took a seat in the chair on the opposite side of the table.

     B.B. just absently stared at his juice box, sitting in front of him, with a rainbow tye-dyed towel around his shoulders. 

     "I hate it," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I hate it there. I really hate it."

     "It's okay, man," I said. "Anybody would hate living in a house like that."

     "Marie's gone," he said, in that same voice. "She left after dinner. She just grabbed her keys and suitcase and left. My parents haven't done anything about it yet."

     He choked up on the last few words and balled his hands, shoving them against his eyes.

     "B.B.," I said. "I'm sure she'll come back."

     "She's not coming back," he whispered, lowering his head. "She left a note. She left a note, Fisher!" He laid his head on the table. "She abandoned me! I can't stand living in the silence!"

     "It's going to be okay, Banjamin," I said, moving his juice box. "She'll come back. And if she doesn't, I give you total permission to slap me in the face as hard as you can, alright?"

     He didn't respond, but he was still shaking, and he started crying.

     "I can't stay there alone," he sobbed. "with the lifeless ghosts that haunt that place." That was how he described his parents. "I can't do it, I can't...!"

     "You can stay with me tonight," I said. "Stay here, I'm going to go get a few pillows and blankets, we're camping out in the living room downstairs." I stood up and patted B.B.'s shoulder as I walked past and headed to my room to get two pillows, and two fleece blankets. B.B. had a kind of depression, and he usually hid it well. But, sometimes he gave in to it. He even tried to kill himself once, a memory I don't like to linger on.

     Once I had the pillows and blankets, I made my way back down the stairs, and turned the corner, going down another six steps into our living room. I threw one pillow and one blanket on the couch for B.B., and dropped the last pillow and last blanket on the floor for me. I turned back up the stairs, flicking on the lightswitch for the living room as I went, and said, "B.B., come on. Let's go down--" I paused in the entryway outside of the kitchen. I almost couldn't believe it for a minute, but then my brain registered what was happening.

     B.B. was standing by the sink with one of my dad's big knives in his hand. He was going to try to kill himself again.

     "No!" I shouted, running at B.B. I quickly took the knife from him and threw it across the kitchen. It stuck perfectly in the wall.

     "Let me end it!" B.B. cried as he pushed me and tried to go after it.

     "Don't do this again!" I shouted, recovering from the shove and grabbing his arm, holding him back. "Don't do it, Benjamin, don't kill yourself!"

     "I can't take this anymore!" B.B. shouted, still crying. "I can't...!" He forced me to wrestle him to the ground. He was flat on his stomach on the kitchen floor, crying, cussing me out, staring at the knife in the wall, reaching his arms out as if he could reach it. I sat on his back until he calmed down enough to think rationally about what he was doing.

     B.B. didn't only have depression, he had heavy anxiety. Like I mentioned before, he hid it well. I was really the only one he confided in when his sister wasn't around. I had a pretty good feeling B.B. was going to be coming over a lot over the summer.

 

"I'm sorry," B.B. said again. It had been an hour and a half since his episode, and he was still apologizing.

     I sat up from laying on the floor and stared at the couch B.B. was laying on. In the light from the T.V. screen, I could see B.B. was sitting up and wiping his eyes.

     The background noises were of the movie 'Madagascar.'

     "I'm gonna kill you, Marty!" Alex the lion, voiced by Ben Stiller was saying to Marty the zebra, voiced by Chris Rock. "And then I'm going to clone you, and kill all your clones!"

     "Just forget about it," I said. "It's okay, you can stop apologizing, man."

     "How can you just say 'forget about it'?" he asked, looking at me. "I tried to kill myself again, Fisher." He looked and sounded like he was going to cry again.

     "I don't know," I admitted. There was a heavy silence except for the heavy rain still pelting the windows and Alex yelling at Marty in the movie. I stood up and walked to a door off to the right, by the stairs, which held another set of stairs behind it.

     "Be right back," I said, turning on the light and going down the fifteen steps. Once in the basement, I turned the light on again. It had been turned into a den over the years, a desktop computer on a fancy office desk with a printer/scanner. My dad's old papers were scattered around it, and there were some tubes of lipstick there, also. I looked around the room, realizing it had been forever since I had been down there. The shelves needed to be dusted,

the pool table was missing some balls, and the carpet needed to be vacuumed.

     I walked past the pool table and went to my dad's little bar area. I stepped onto the cold tile and went behind the counter to the fridge where the soda was kept. I had never liked the taste of beer, and my dad was proud of that. He never felt the need to lock up his liquor.

     I grabbed two cans of Coca-Cola and closed the fridge, making my way back upstairs.

     "Here," I said, throwing one of the cans to B.B. when I made it back up the stairs. After turning off the lights and closing the door again, I opened my Coke and took a big drink. Soda was like my alchohol. If I was stressed, I would go and get a can or two. I hadn't been stressed in a long time, considering it had been a while since I had gone down there.

     "Thanks," B.B. said halfheartedly, holding his can but not opening it. In the movie, King Julien, voiced by Sacha Baron Cohen, was singing 'I Like To Move

It' while dancing around.

     "So," I said, sitting next to B.B. on the couch. "what do you want to do tomorrow?"

     "I dunno," he replied, setting down the unopend can of Coke on the coffee table next to his glasses.

     "We could ride bikes," I suggested. "or we could get Kat and Chugga and do something. What do you want to do?"

     "I don't know," B.B. said again. He yawned and rubbed his eyes.

     "I'll let you sleep, then," I said, patting his shoulder. I got off the couch and went back to my spot on the floor, laying down and staring at the ceiling, trying to block out the noise of the movie.

     "They are just a bunch of pansies," King Julien said in the movie. I grinned.

I used to quote that line all the time.

     "Fisher?" B.B. said, his voice a bit quiet.

     "Yup, still awake," I said, sitting up. "What is it?"

     "Do you think...my parents would care if I just disappeared?" he asked, staring at the pop can.

     "Do you see them everyday?" I asked. "Or do they see you?"

     "Yeah...?"

     "Then they'd probably notice you were gone and start to worry," I said. "My dad panicked when I didn't come home today right after school, he even called the police."

     "My parents woldn't do that, Fisher," B.B. said, sighing and rubbing his eyes again. "They don't worry endlessly about me for no reason like your dad."

     "Good point," I said, sighing myself. "I give up. I really don't know, man."

     There was no more talking between us after that.

     "All hail the New York Giants!" King Julien said. I covered my head with my pillow. I think B.B. did the same.

    

"Morning, sunshine," I said, tapping B.B.'s forehead. It was almost ten thirty. My dad had made bacon earlier that morning, and the aroma of it made my stomach rumble.

     B.B. groggily opened his eyes and sat up, leaning over and reaching for his glasses.

     "Feeling better?" I asked him "The sun is out and shining, it's almost eighty degrees, and we have the whole summer ahead of us. We can't waste it!"

     He looked up at me and grinned. "Yeah, we can't waste it."

     We went upstairs, and sure enough, there was a big plate of bacon on the table with a note next to it.

     The note was from my dad:

 

Fisher--

     Here's some bacon for you boys. I called Benjamin's house and left a message with his parents that he's with us. I'll be home late tonight, around six-ish. And Denise is coming home with me~!

     P.S. Why was there a knife in the wall?!

                     Dad

 

"What's it say?" B.B. asked, taking a piece of bacon and sitting down.

     "Here's some bacon for you boys," I read in my impression of my dad when he made his voice higher. "I called Benjamin's house and left a message with his parents that's he's with us. I'll be home late tonight, around six-ish. And Denise is coming home with me! It's be just FABULOUS!" I added the fabulous part just because he used to say that all the time. "By the by, why was there a knife in the wall?!"

     Benjamin glanced down at the bacon.

     "Relax, man," I said, now in my normal voice. "I'll just tell Janice that I accidentally dropped it."

     "That doesn't make sense, genius," B.B. said.

     "I dropped it once and got it stuck in the ceiling," I said, remembering how hilarious that incident was at the time. "Trust me, Janice'll believe it."

     "If you say so," B.B. said. "Can I use your shower?"

     "Go ahead," I said, motioning upstairs. "just don't take longer than ten minutes or I'll assume that you're--"

     "You're disgusting," B.B. interrupted me, standing up and leaving the kitchen.

     "I was going to say that you were going to strangle yourself with a towel, but if you want to keep your head in the gutter, that's totally fine," I called as he disappeared upstairs.

Author's Note

Meeeeeh sorry this took so long. >_<

Reviews

[compositionc]

Awesomeness. It's still funny and light, but takes on a more serious tone as well. BB sounds like a real person. They all do. AND WHY WAS THERE A KNIFE IN THE WALL?!?

[TheKaylaPup]

I loved it, totally sucked in thats why This is the first review.

[TheKaylaPup]

I really like it, Totally sucked in thats why i didnt respond to chapter 1.

[Anonymous]

Oh, God, I love this. I love BB so much. He reminds me of myself sometimes (not the suicidal part lol), and I think it's awesome that you're opening up some back-story and emotions from him. I can't wait to find out more about Kat and Chugga's past, as well as Fisher's. I'm sure you have lovely details planned. :D

_Cloud

[Imara]

"Just don't take longer than ten minutes or I'll assume that you're..." heheh my favorite line of this chapter. :3

[castargirl]

I really liked it, it was really sad though when B.B tried to kill himself. Good job though! Can't wait for the next chapter!

[M Garcia]

This was good. I suggest adding some dividers or something to differeniate (probably spelled wrong). Anywho. I liked hearing a little more background on BB and its sad that his parents just don't care. Keep writing!