The Other Side of Me - 6. Chapter 6

Thanks to jim for editing!

Frank bit into a fresh ham sandwich as he stood on his front porch and looked across the lake towards the red roof. Oliver had said he’d come over again today, but so far he hadn’t shown up, and Frank was getting antsy. For all he knew, Oliver could have told his parents what had happened yesterday, and they’d changed their minds about letting him come over. Then again, after yesterday Frank needed to give Oliver more credit than that, he decided. And he did. It was simply easier to concern himself with Oliver’s whereabouts than to think about his other problems. Like David.

It had been on the tip of Frank’s tongue that morning to tell Mr. Crook who he suspected of being responsible for yesterday’s unexpected events. He probably would have, too, if it wasn’t for the fact that he couldn’t actually prove that it had been David; and then there was the fact that he completely doubted Crook’s dependability, anyway. Even Frank’s mom pointed out that the man probably wasn’t fit to take on the responsibility of a dog, let alone the duties of an officer of the law. Frank had to agree with her. Although, Crook’s mention of the photography club had caught Frank’s attention, and for a good part of the morning he’d been wondering if he could seek out more information about the group in town.

“Frank?”

Frank glanced back at his sister, flashing her a welcoming smile. He’d been trying to be extra nice to her since yesterday afternoon.

“Hey.”

“Mom wants to know if you’re ready for lunch.”

“Already taken care of,” Frank replied as he held up the remainder of his sandwich before shoving it greedily into his mouth.

“Oh,” Rudy replied, but didn’t go back into the house. Instead, she stared out at the lake. Frank frowned. He couldn’t help being worried about her. She’d been afraid to sleep in her own room the night before, and hadn’t at all been comforted by the sheriff’s visit. “There’s a cat under my bed,” she said. “He hissed at me when I tried to get him out.”

“Be careful,” Frank warned. “Some of them are kind of wild.”

“Will you get it out for me?”

“Sure,” Frank agreed.

Rudy sighed as she moved to stand next to him. “I’m bored, Frank.”

He smiled at that. “You’re the one who didn’t want to go back to camp today.”

“I hate it there. It’s stupid. Is Oliver coming over today?”

“Maybe. I think so.”

“Can I go with you and Oliver somewhere?” Rudy asked.

Frank looked at her, stomping down the urge to say no. if Oliver came over, there was a lot that Frank wanted to say to him, and none of it was meant for his little sister’s ears.

“We’ll see,” he told her, just as his mom came outside to interrupt them.

“We have a phone, we have a phone,” she said in a sing-song voice. She was also hopping around like an over-caffeinated cheerleader, which had Frank rolling his eyes. She just grinned and ruffled his hair in response as she repeated herself one more time. “We have a phone. So, who should we call first? Grandpa? Uncle Chris? One of your friends, one of mine? Who wants to go first?”

“Daddy!” Rudy cut in as she rushed back into the house. Jessica sobered while Frank only scowled after his sister.

There were several moments of awkward silence before Jessica tapped her son’s arm and gave him an encouraging smile. “Do you want to go in and talk to him, Frank? It’s been a while. I’m sure he’d like to hear from you.”

Frank gave his mom a look that clearly stated his opinion on the matter, although he held back from expressing it out loud. “I’m gonna go take a walk,” he announced.

“Now?”

“Yeah. Now.”

Jessica frowned, looking pointedly at the scab blemishing her son’s top lip. “Promise you’ll stay close.”

Frank rolled his eyes and made a show being completely unconcerned with his mom’s worrying as he kissed her cheek and gave her a short nod. “I won’t be gone that long,” he promised, but then stopped halfway down the stairs to look back. “Hey, Mom? Are you going back into town today?”

“I’m not sure. Why? Is there something you need?”

Frank shrugged. “Not really. Just let me know if you do, okay? I think I’ll wanna go with.”

“Sure, honey,” she agreed.

Frank turned to leave once more, but paused again for a different reason as he faced the lake. Not far off a familiar little motor boat was headed for their side of the water with one dark-haired passenger.

“It looks like you’ll have company on your walk,” Jessica commented.

“I’ll see you later, Mom,” Frank said, and instead of heading off into the woods on his own, he started walking towards the low-lying bridge that Oliver liked to dock at. By the time he reached it, Oliver, with his messy hair and big crooked smile, was climbing out with a lightweight backpack strapped to his back as he waved to Frank.

“Hi, Frank! My mom said I could come over by myself today, but I have to come home at four o’clock. I brought your clothes back. Do you want them now?”

“That’s okay,” Frank replied. “You can give them to me later. Wanna go for a walk?”

“You don’t want to go to your house?” Oliver asked, as if he were actually confused by that.

“Not really,” Frank admitted. “We got our phone hooked up so Rudy’s calling my dad. I don’t really wanna be around for it.”

“Oh. Okay where are we gonna go walking to?”

“I thought I’d ask you that,” Frank replied. “You’re better at not getting lost than I am.”

Oliver smiled. “Okay, Frank.”

They walked up the road, past the trails that Frank had already bothered to explore, and for about twenty minutes of that Frank felt guilty for not being the best of company. He’d used most of the time to vent about his father, something he normally wouldn’t have done, but he couldn’t quite seem to help it. Oliver was a good listener, and never gave any indication that he thought anything Frank had to say was boring, nor did he jump in and give Frank false reassurances or the well-intended but pushy advice that someone else might have. He simply listened. He also listened when Frank told him about Howard Crook and what the man had said, but instead of adding his thoughts to the situation as Frank had hoped he would, Oliver chose to remain silent.

“He said he’ll call if anything comes up, but I doubt it,” Frank explained. “I think if I want to figure out who was outside of Rudy’s window I’m gonna have to figure out who it was.” He paused, and studied Oliver out of the corner of his eye for a long moment. “I mean, I don’t know many people with a camera, except David. Do you think... do you have any idea who it might have been, Oliver? I didn’t see anything, but I thought maybe if you did...”

“I didn’t see anything, Frank,” Oliver said at the same time he reached over and took hold of Frank’s hand. Frank glanced down at the gesture, a reminder of the physical boundaries they’d crossed the day before. It took him a few more silent steps to realize that he was returning Oliver’s grip. He frowned at himself, more than towards the situation.

“Whoever it was could come back,” Frank said, realizing that he was sharing a genuine fear with Oliver.

“Maybe they won’t, Frank,” Oliver replied after some consideration. Frank stopped walking to face him, feeling irritated that Oliver appeared convinced.

“How would you know?” Frank demanded, sounding harsher than he’d intended. He couldn’t help it. He wanted answers, and it only aggravated him that everyone had something to hide, maybe even Oliver.

Oliver’s brow knitted and he frowned at Frank. “I just don’t want you to be upset, Frank. I said that to make you feel better.”

Frank stared at his friend for a long moment, and then choked back a laugh. To make him feel better. People told him things that were meant to make him feel better all the time. Like, his mom saying that everything was going to work itself out, or Rudy telling him that he didn’t look too bad on a hair day from hell. But, no one but Oliver, Frank imagined, would have pointed it out to him.

“Sorry, Oliver. I’m just stressed right now.”

“About your dad, Frank?”

“Among other things. Look, Oliver... I know you don’t want David to get in trouble, okay? But if you know it was him, then just tell me. I swear I’ll just want to talk to him. Maybe if I know why he did it... and then attacked us--you remember he attacked us, don’t you? If I just knew...” Frank stopped talking to take in a startled breath when he suddenly found Oliver’s mouth on his own, and with a gentle hand to the other boy’s chest, he pushed him away. “Oliver, stop, I’m trying...”

Oliver suddenly released Frank’s hand, looking offended enough to get Frank’s attention as he crossed his arms and looked at his feet. “Why not, Frank?” he demanded.

Because I’m trying to have a normal conversation , Frank thought. But, instead of saying that out loud, he considered the question and how he wanted to address it. It wasn’t like Oliver was asking him why he didn’t want to be interrupted. “Okay...” Frank said slowly, allowing himself to catch up with the situation. “Yesterday...”

“It was okay to kiss you yesterday,” Oliver cut in.

“Yeah, well maybe we shouldn’t have done that,” Frank replied. He reached out to place a comforting hand on Oliver’s shoulder, but Oliver only shrugged him off. “Oliver...”

“You said you liked me, Frank.”

“I know I did... and I still do, but I was thinking about it, and maybe I shouldn’t have... maybe we...”

“David said you were just using me,” Oliver said bitterly, surprising Frank as the other boy met his eyes again.

“What?”

“You don’t really like me, do you? You were just using me, Frank.”

Frank took a physical step back when faced with the accusing look on Oliver’s face and he shook his head, dumbfounded. “No, that’s not it. That’s the thing, Oliver, I don’t want to use you. That’s why....” Frank released a something akin to a growl that sounded rather grumpy, and stopped himself from saying what he might regret later when Oliver appeared confused. Frank didn’t think Oliver would like being told what had really been on his mind.

It wasn’t that Frank didn’t like kissing Oliver. In fact, it seemed to him that he’d liked it too much. He liked a lot about Oliver a little too much, he was beginning to realize. He liked the smell of lemons, the soft messy hair, the often-laughing hazel eyes and the big, crooked grin that seemed more charming every time he saw it. Physically, he saw Oliver for what he was. An appealing young man who Frank could see himself doing a lot of things with. The problem was the fact that when Frank talked to Oliver, he often felt as if he was speaking to a boy much younger than himself. Not a stupid boy, but one who might not completely understand what those kisses meant. Of course, there was no nice way to say any of this to Oliver. Frank was definitely smart enough to realize he was walking on thin ice over the subject, and was forced to do the best he could, hoping that Oliver would understand.

“I do like you, Oliver... and I wouldn’t use you, okay? I just thought that maybe we shouldn’t do that anymore because I don’t want... I don’t want to take advantage of you, because I care about you. Make sense?”

“No, Frank.”

Frank ran both hands through his hair, wishing that he could rewind the entire conversation and start over while Oliver studied him searchingly.

“You can’t take advantage of me,” Oliver finally said, and when Frank looked at him questioningly, he smiled. “And if you take advantage of me when you kiss me, then I like it.” Oliver reached for Frank’s hand, taking him off guard again when he suddenly sat down, seeming unconcerned with anything that might be on the ground beneath him before he looked up at Frank expectantly. “I like you a lot, Frank. I don’t want David to be right.”

Frank forced himself to sit on the ground because Oliver was still gripping his hand, and became annoyed when the moisture from the recent rain soaked through the back of his jeans, but tolerated it. “He’s not right, Oliver,” he insisted. “You are my friend,” he added sincerely, only to find that Oliver was no longer paying attention to him. “Oliver?” Frank paused when he realized that Oliver was removing the backpack from his back and opening it in his lap. He glanced inside at the contents, and then at Frank.

“David says he’s my only friend,” Oliver said in nearly a whisper, as if he didn’t want to be overheard, despite the seclusion. “It’s because we’re the same, Frank. He says we don’t have friends. Were not supposed to... but you’re here now, and I want things to be different. I don’t want David to get in trouble anymore. Here. Here, Frank. Don’t be mad at him anymore.”

Frank watched, curious and somewhat nerve-racked as Oliver removed a plastic bag from his backpack containing a thin stack of what were obviously photographs. He held the bag out for Frank, and forgetting the meaning of patience, Frank all but snatched them from Oliver’s hand and forced himself to look down at the first image. It wasn’t the horror he’d been expecting.

“David took that one for me,” Oliver explained. “But I don’t want it if it makes you angry, Frank. You can have it. You can have all of them. I tried to find them all, Frank.”

Frank unzipped the plastic bag and removed the photo he’d been aware of. The picture Oliver had told him about, where he was on his bike. What startled Frank was that the photo seemed to have been taken at close range, since there weren’t many trees obstructing the image, and the idea of David getting so close without Frank realizing it was unsettling. But, other than that, the image seemed rather innocent. That’s probably why Frank found himself holding it out for Oliver when the other boy seemed nervous over his reaction.

“It’s yours,” Frank said. “Keep it if you want.”

“You don’t care?”

“I don’t care,” Frank insisted, and turned his attention to the next photo as Oliver quickly took the picture of Frank, as if he thought it would be snatched back at any moment. It nearly was, too, but only because Frank was startled by the next one. He recognized it as the day they’d moved in. He was standing with Rudy, both of them looking rather depressed and disappointed in front of their new home. And if Frank hadn’t known any better, he would have thought they’d posed for the picture. Facing the camera, their eyes seeming focused on the lens. It didn’t seem possible. The next picture was the same, only Frank’s mother was the subject, looking tired, but still more cheerful than her offspring. Her eyes were looking right through the picture at Frank. He frowned, wondering how none of them knew they were being photographed. “How did he do this?” Frank demanded, without looking up.

“David knows how to use a camera, Frank,” Oliver replied, as if it were obvious.

Frank continued to flip through, deciding that most of the pictures had been taken his first week there. There were some of him exploring the trails either alone or with Rudy, and one where he was kissing his mom goodbye as she got in the car to head to town. And the more he looked the more it became apparent that he was the main focus in the images. The photographs were decidedly unsettling, but there weren’t any taken through the windows of Frank’s house. He was disappointed, feeling that he still lacked the proof he’d been hoping to find. Frank was beginning to realize that he didn’t just think it had been David. He hoped it was.

He knew it was a switch from thinking that David was a victim of his parents, and it wasn’t that Frank had completely ruled that out, either. He remembered the unsocialized boy who’d been suspicious of an ice cream cone, and still felt sympathy. But, after hearing his mother mention that David might be responsible for mistreating Oliver, Frank found himself developing a quick bias against him. For Frank, it would make sense that David was the one sneaking around his house, especially now if Oliver was right when he said that David believed they only had each other. Maybe, Frank thought, David was jealous of his friendship with Oliver. It would go to his mom’s theory. And, as Frank thought of the attack the day before, recalling how their attacker had targeted Oliver first, he couldn’t help wondering if it really was Oliver’s brother. Jealous and angry brother. It could all make sense, if only Frank could prove it. If he proved it, then... well, Frank wasn’t sure what was supposed to come after that. Maybe he could help Oliver, because he was convinced that Oliver was in need of some sort of help. And if anything, he’d sleep easier at night.

Frank suddenly became aware of the cool breeze striking his face, and the hair at his nape prickled as he looked up, feeling crowded by the towering trees. He quickly slipped the photographs back into their bag and then placed them in his pocket as he got to his feet and held a hand down for Oliver. “Come on,” he insisted, realizing a strong urge to get out of there. “Let’s get back to my place, okay?”

Oliver took Frank’s hand, accepting the assistance off the forest floor, but seemed put off when Frank placed a firm hand on his shoulder to guide him back the way they’d come with a noticeable amount of force. “Is something the matter, Frank?” he asked, looking around curiously when Frank began to look over his own shoulder.

“No... I mean... I just get the creeps out here, you know?”

Oliver shook his head. “No, Frank.”

Frank sighed. “Let’s just go. You have to be home at four, right?”

“Yeah. Four o’clock, Frank.”

“Okay, well, maybe we have the time to watch a movie or something before then.”

Oliver smiled. “Okay, Frank.”

.....................................

“Frank! Dad wants to talk to you!” Rudy called through the house, her voice nearly fading before it reached Frank’s bedroom where he calmly pushed back his bed sheets, walked barefooted across his bedroom floor, and slammed his door so hard that he was certain that the people in town could hear it.

That should get the point across , Frank decided as he yawned, stretched, and headed back to bed for another hour of sleep. It was another Saturday morning, and for days now, ever since their phone had been connected, Rudy had been making a point of calling their father. He’d even called them a few times, which made Frank rather eager to avoid answering the telephone. He didn’t want to talk to his dad, and the fact that the man suddenly wanted to talk to him didn’t make a whole lot of sense to Frank. It wasn’t as if the man had wanted to talk when they’d been in the same city, and there was no way that Frank was willing to set himself up for more disappointment by allowing his dad to think that he wanted to talk to him after all that.

He’d just crawled back into bed, pulling the covers nearly over the top of his head, when there was a soft tap on his door. His mother didn’t wait for him to answer before she stepped in to check on him, and Frank was forced to open his eyes.

“Are you alright?” Jessica asked.

Frank frowned and wiped some more sleep from his eyes. “Why do you let her talk to him? She’s just gonna get hurt.”

“I think he’s trying, Frank,” Jessica replied. “I’m not saying that you have to forgive him if you’re not ready to, but maybe...”

“I’ll never forgive him.”

Jessica sighed. “Okay. Listen, I’ve got to go to work pretty soon. There’s some more pancakes out here if you’re hungry, and you don’t have to worry about Rudy today. I’m taking her with me so she can meet a friend from camp.”

“I thought she didn’t have any friends.”

“Well, I guess she does now. Seems like a nice enough girl. Do you want to come, too? You’ve been asking to go.”

“No. Oliver’s coming over again today.” Oliver had been coming over just about every day, a small fact that had helped ease Frank’s mind. It was reassuring that Oliver’s parents were allowing the visits, and Frank had no intention of missing one.

“Well, you guys have fun, then... just remember, if you go out, or even if you’re here...”

“We’ll lock the doors,” Frank promised. “Can I use the car tonight when you get back?”

“I guess so,” Jessica replied, leaning back on the doorframe as she regarded her son. “Where do you plan to take it?”

“I don’t know,” Frank said grumpily. “I just wanna get out of here for a while. I’ll probably shop or go to a movie or something.”

“You’ll let me know before you leave?”

“Fine. I’ll let you know before I leave,” Frank agreed with all the hostility of a seasoned teenager. Jessica just smiled, loving him anyway.

Frank stared at the cracks in his ceiling as he waited for his mother to leave, and then he reached into his nightstand drawer and removed the plastic bags of photographs which had been there for nearly a week. Frank had done a lot of staring at them lately, and did some more after removing them from their plastic bag. He’d become quite familiar with the eight images over the last few days. They were beginning to frighten him less and less, only because he’d been walking around his property every morning attempting to discover where David could have hidden to take some of them, and had come up with a range of possibilities. That at least convinced Frank that David didn’t have some mutant ability to turn invisible. Very reassuring. Other things, though, were not.

Frank abandoned the idea of getting more sleep as soon as he heard his mom’s Subaru drive away from the house, and twenty minutes later he was dressed and outside, staring across the lake at the red roof of Oliver’s house with a pair of binoculars borrowed from Rudy. There was too much in the way to get a good view of anything other than the roof and the barn, but when a flash of yellow moving somewhere along the road leading to the house caught Frank’s attention, he focused on that. A yellow truck. It appeared that Oliver’s parents were leaving, so Frank looked back towards their property, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Martin children. Their boat was visible where it was docked, and he watched it for a few moments, knowing that it would be there for at least another few hours. Oliver usually came over after lunch. That meant that if Frank left for a while, he probably wouldn’t miss him.

He went to the shed, and a moment later he was on his bike and on the road, hoping he remembered the easy way to get to the other side of the lake.

......................................

The Martin house was quiet, the curtains drawn shut, no light coming from within. Frank frowned, wondering if anyone was home at all. It was possible that Oliver’s parents had taken him and David somewhere, but Frank doubted it. From his short conversations with Oliver he already knew that it was Mr. Martin who was most likely to go to town for work. Mrs. Martin worked from home, but on occasion the two of them went out together; but according to Oliver, they usually left him and David at home.

Frank felt hesitant as he climbed the steps and approached the door, and found himself tapping rather than knocking. A moment later he was lifting his fist to try again when he decided that no one would have heard him, but his hand paused in midair as the doorknob began to turn. Frank took a step back, his eyes lifting to a familiar face that made it possible for him to relax, and he smiled back at it. “Hey, Oliver. I know you were gonna come over later, but I was wondering if you wanted to come over early. It’s just about warm enough for swimming,” Frank observed. “But, uh, since I’m here, I was wondering if I could talk to David before we left.”

Oliver looked back at Frank, his smile slowly fading until it didn’t exist at all, and as he leaned back against the front door he crossed his arms in a defensive posture. “So what do you want with David, Frank?”

Frank’s eyes narrowed. “David?”

One of David’s shoulder’s shrugged. “Present. Come to give me grief about my hobby? What’s wrong, Frank, don’t like to get your picture taken? Personally, I think you’re pretty photogenic.”

“I just don’t like it when someone takes my picture and I don’t know about it,” Frank retorted. “Especially when they have to sneak around the bushes and peek through someone else’s windows. Did you learn how to do that in your stalker’s handbook, David?”

David pushed off of the door and took a step forward that Frank interpreted as somewhat threatening, but held his ground.

“You think it was me?” David demanded, sounding incredulously offended.

“Why not?” Frank replied. “Seems like you like sneaking around, and I’m pretty sure I owe you for this, too,” he added, indicating his lip, which was still visibly bruised.

David smirked. “If I’d hit you your teeth would be stuck to my knuckles about right now.”

The arrogance of the comment aggravated Frank, and suddenly all his frustrations were aimed pointedly at David as he blindly moved forward and gave David’s chest a shove. “Wanna prove that, asshole? Go the fuck on. You like pushing people around? Like pushing your brother around? Go ahead. Try me.”

Frank didn’t get the attack he’d expected, and even wanted. Instead, David made a point to step away as he looked at Frank like he’d lost his mind.

“You think I hurt Oliver?” David sounded as if the very idea was hilarious. “I’ve never touched him!”

“Then who did?” Frank demanded. “And don’t tell me I’m imagining things because a few days ago I saw him! And I don’t know what the hell’s going on around here but I know it has something to do with you!”

“And why not?” David snapped. “Everything is my fault--but I never touched Oliver!”

“Then who, David?”

“Who do you think?” David growled.

“Are you saying it was your parents?” Frank asked.

David fell silent for a long moment before he shook his head. “No. They wouldn’t hurt Oliver. And I ain’t got nothing more to say to you, Frank.”

David turned and reached for his door, but didn’t get it open before Frank grabbed his arm and spun him back around.

“Do they hurt you, David?”

David’s eyes met his guest’s suspiciously as he shook Frank’s hand off and his lip slowly turned up into a scowl. “You don’t get it? Do you?”

“What am I supposed to get, David?”

David laughed, and then met Frank’s eyes with a seriousness that almost seemed desperate. “Look around you. Look deeper.”

Frank sucked in a breath and gripped his hair, suddenly resisting the urge to pull it out. “No. No. You know what, David? If you don’t want to talk to me, fine. But if anything else happens to Oliver I swear I’ll mention it to everyone who walks past me until someone believes it because believe it or not, I do care about him, and I’d help you too if you could just knock off this cryptic bullshit for five minutes!”

David took an abrupt step forward, startling Frank into silence. “Oliver’s not here right now,” he said quietly. “Time to leave, Frank.”

“David...”

“I don’t got no answers for you. Everything else you can see. You’re just not looking!” he said, sounding angry over it.

Frank opened his mouth to inform David that he sounded like a crazy person, but then closed it and decided that it wasn’t worth the effort as he turned and headed down the front steps. “Just tell Oliver to call me when he gets back,” Frank said as he reached his bike and began to walk it towards the road.

“Hey Frank,” David suddenly called, causing Frank to pause and look back at him. “Did it ever occur to you that whoever was looking in your windows wasn’t looking to take a picture of anyone in your family?”

“You think...”

Frank didn’t get to finish his response when David turned, walked into his house, and gave an obvious dismissal as he slammed the front door.

............................................................

Frank didn’t know what time it was when he arrived home, but he knew that something wasn’t quite right when he got there. His mom’s car was parked on the side of the house, which he hadn’t expected. She should have been working until later that afternoon. When he saw that the front door had been left carelessly wide open, he felt a knot rise in his throat as he rushed towards it.

“Mom!” Frank called as he entered, looking around for any signs of trouble. “Mom!”

“In here, honey!” was the muffled response, and as he reached the kitchen he looked over the scene with a good amount of confusion. With good reason, he thought. The scene at the kitchen table was strange enough.

He had to look twice when he noticed not one, but two redheaded girls at the table sharing peanut-butter sandwiches. He was about to demand if Rudy had multiplied before both girls looked over their shoulders and he saw that one had glasses and a lot more freckles. He shook off the oddity of the picture they made and looked towards his mother, who was attempting to wrestle something out of the garbage disposal she’d insisted they install after moving in. Frank strode across the kitchen and pulled her hand out of the drain before he reached in himself and found the mangled spoon that had gotten trapped.

“Thank you,” Jessica said once he retrieved it. “I feel like I’ve been trying to pull that out forever. Where were you at?”

Frank ignored her question. “The front door’s wide open,” he said accusingly.

Jessica sighed. “I know. It’s just so hot in here and that swamp cooler’s starting to smell again.”

“You told me to lock the doors whether or not I’m home...”

“Frank,” Jessica cut him off, looking amused. “It’s hot. And I think letting some air in will do us some good. Besides, we’re all here now. Have you said hello to Rudy’s friend, Stephanie?” she asked pointedly, letting Frank know that he was being rude.

He sighed. “Hi, Stephanie.”

“Hi,” the girl replied, sounding too chipper for Frank’s current mood.

“Mom,” he started, but Jessica was already moving past him and into a plastic grocery bag left on the counter top. She reached in, and when she turned back to face him she was presenting a whistle connected to a shoelace.

“Here,” she said. “We’ve all got one. I couldn’t find anyplace that sold pepper spray, but if there’s any trouble, we can blow our whistles.”

Dumbfounded, Frank looked between the whistle and his mom until she finally rolled her eyes and put it around his neck herself. He noticed that Rudy was already wearing one before he finally cracked a smile and found himself trying not to laugh. But, he did manage to keep from telling his mom that he thought blowing a whistle at an attacker would be about as effective as trying to tickle one with a feather. “What are you doing home?” he asked. “I thought you were working today.”

Jessica’s smile faded, and she headed towards the living room. Frank couldn’t tell if it was because she planned to avoid the question, or if she didn’t want Rudy and her friend to hear her response.

“Mom?” he asked again when they reached the living room and his mom went about straightening things that didn’t need to be straightened.

“Everything’s fine, Frank. They just didn’t need me today, that’s all.”

“They fired you?” he demanded.

Jessica straightened. “No.” she said quickly. “But it seems that in this town, everyone has slow days. Even ice-cream stores on hot days.”

“Oh.”

“They said they’d call me back next week if they needed help.”

“Next week?”

“Frank,” Jessica said quickly. “Don’t make a big deal of it. We’re fine--and don’t you dare go looking for a job just because you think you need to support us. That’s not your job.”

“Well not all of it should be your job, either.”

Jessica sighed. “I talked to your dad a little this morning. He’s going to start paying child support.”

“And you believe that?” Frank asked skeptically.

“We’ll see what happens,” Jessica replied. “In the meantime, I don’t want you worrying about this... Your dad wants to talk to you, you know. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt if...”

“We’re not talking about this,” Frank stated.

“Frank...”

“Mom... please.”

Jessica fell silent, although it was obvious she wanted to say more. It was better that she didn’t. The short fuse Frank had when it came to his father had only become shorter over the last few days, and they both knew it. He needed more time.

“Okay,” Jessica relented. “But I don’t want you to worry about my job, alright? I’ll be teaching again before you know it.”

Frank gave a slow nod, also deciding against an argument. He was worried, and he was going to worry, but if it would prevent him from having to discuss his father, he could allow his mom to think that he was leaving all the worrying to her. For a little while.

“So are you back for the day?” he asked.

“Looks like it. Stephanie’s parents are probably going to come pick her up later. It turns out they live on our side of town. Isn’t that nice.”

“Yeah. Good for Rudy.”

Jessica smiled. “You can have the car now if you still want it. Any idea what you’ll be doing yet?”

Frank shook his head. “I’ll probably just look around town for a while, Mom. I’ll be back soon, too. Oliver should still be coming over in a while. Um, if he gets here before I get back, could you maybe ask him to wait for me?”

“I can do that,” Jessica agreed, smiling. “You guys are still getting along, then?”

“Yep,” Frank said before he leaned over to kiss his mom’s cheek. “Keys?”

“In my purse,” Jessica replied, knowing that her son would help himself. She watched him do just that as she went to where it was sitting near the front door. “Frank?”

“Yeah?”

“You are okay, right?” she asked.

Frank looked up to meet her eyes, and forced himself to smile somewhat genuinely. “I’m fine, Mom.”

.................................................

For once, Frank saw the benefit of living in a small town.

“Jenny Woodmoore has a camera,” the woman with dark, silver-streaked hair explained from behind the gas-station counter, where Frank had stopped to fill up the Subaru. “She took the pictures for my daughter’s wedding just last year. Turned out real nice.”

“Do you know if she's in the photography club?” Frank asked.

“Well, I don’t know if you’d call it a club. But I think she gets together with her friends every once in a while. They’ve all got those fancy cameras. I think she’s working at Karrigan’s just down the street this summer. Maybe you could talk to her about it. She’s a real pretty girl,” she added with a wink.

Frank forced a smile. “Thanks... um, one more thing. Do you know where I can buy a camera?”

The woman smiled brightly, and pointed to a rack of disposable cameras near the register, claiming, “The best in town.”

No more than ten minutes later, Frank was discovering that Karrigan’s was one of the few restaurants in town as he pulled into the dirt lot in front of it. It seemed a little busier than the other businesses around, but not by much. As he entered, he felt like he was walking into a fancy McDonald’s that had a sour odor beneath the smell of greasy burgers and thick fries. A waitress approached him right off, and after a quick look at her bright yellow name tag, which didn’t say Jenny, he allowed her to show him to a table where he ordered a side salad and a soda. As soon as she disappeared, he was out of his booth and taking the long path to the restrooms, taking in everything he could on the way.

There was an old couple on one side of the room, and an older waiter, but the action seemed to be in the opposite corner where a girl around his age dressed in the restaurant garb leaned over a corner booth laughing at something one of the three guys--also around Frank’s age--said to her. He detoured towards them, watching her closely as she flipped a light brown ponytail over her shoulder, and then turned. A quick glance down at her right breast told him that she was who he was looking for, and he headed to the restrooms to wash his hands.

Frank’s meal wasn’t at his table by the time he returned, and in a last minute decision, he decided to switch tables, moving into Jenny Woodmoore’s section where he removed his newly purchased disposable camera from his packet and began to inspect it as if it were the most complicated instrument he’d ever come by. He only had to put on the act for about five minutes before Jenny Woodmoore was standing over his table, regarding him curiously with a small salad and a drink between her hands.

“Excuse me, this wouldn’t be yours, would it?” she asked.

Frank looked up into friendly blue eyes and smiled. “Oh, yeah,” he replied. “Hope you don’t mind, but I switched tables. The other one was in the sun. It’s pretty warm today.”

“That’s no problem,” Jenny insisted as she placed his food in front of him while Frank went back to playing with the camera. “If you need anything else just let me know.”

“Sure,” Frank said, before suddenly aiming the camera at the girl’s face. “Smile.”

To his surprise, Jenny not only grinned, but struck a pose as he took his picture, and when he lowered the camera, she grinned. “We don’t have a lot of tourists come through here,” she remarked, eyeing his five-dollar camera.

“Oh, I’m not,” Frank said quickly as he looked sheepishly down at the camera in his hands. “Actually, I just moved here.”

“Really? Wait--you have a little sister, right? Rudy? Red hair?”

“Yeah, actually,” Frank replied, now regarding Jenny somewhat suspiciously.

“She goes to my family’s summer camp,” Jenny said excitedly.

“Oh... um, yeah, that’s her.”

“I like her,” Jenny commented as she surprised Frank again by slipping into the booth across from him. “She talks about you a lot.”

“She does?”

“She mentioned a few things,” Jenny remarked as a slow blush crawled over her cheeks before she eyed Frank’s camera again and promptly changed the subject. “So are you just out looking at the town?”

“Nah,” he said. “I did that a few weeks ago. Actually... I lost my camera during the move.” He held up the disposable to explain. “I picked this up because... I thought it would be better than nothing. I really miss using mine, you know?”

“That’s awful. Do you think you’ll find it?”

“Probably not,” he said sincerely. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know where I could get another one around here, do you?”

Jenny looked thoughtful for a moment. “That depends. What kind was it?”

Frank blinked and then shook it off and did his best to sound humble. “Actually,” he said, lowering his voice, “I have no idea.” Jenny gave him an odd look, and he quickly explained. “It was a gift, from my grandmother. I mean, she died and left it to me.”

“Aww...”

“It was a while ago,” he said quickly. “But I was sort of teaching myself how to use it, and I’d really like to find another.”

“Well, do you remember anything about it?”

“It took pictures.”

Jenny laughed. “Okay... hmm, you could try Mr. Gelve’s garage. It sort of doubles as a pawn shop, and he might have something there. But don’t get your hopes up. If you want to spend some money, I special-ordered mine.”

Frank raised his eyebrows. “You’re into photography?”

Jenny grinned. “Definitely. Actually, there’s a whole group of us that gets together on Sundays. There’s not much else to do around here, really... you wouldn’t be interested in coming sometime, would you? It’s just a bunch of kids from school.”

“I don’t know,” Frank said carefully. “I mean… would you wanna show up with this?” He glanced at his camera, and Jenny smiled.

“I’ll let everyone know what happened. I swear they won’t make fun of you. You should come--we’ll all be going to school together in the fall, anyway.”

Frank frowned. “That’s nice of you... Jenny.” He made sure to look at her name tag again. “But I don’t know...”

“Look,” she said, standing as an older man appeared across the room and regarded her disapprovingly, “I’ve gotta get back to work. If you wanna come we’ll be meeting here around eleven o’clock. Just after church.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Will I see you there?” Jenny asked.

Frank looked at her as if she were deaf. “Like I said, I’ll...”

“No,” she said, laughing. “Will I see you at church?”

“Um...”

“We’ll talk about it more then,” she insisted, and then rushed off to carry on with her duties.

Frank sat back in his seat as he watched her walk away. Currently, there were two things he hoped for. First, he hoped that Howard Crook was as unreliable as Frank thought he was, and hadn’t mentioned his family to any of Jenny’s friends. Second, he hoped that he could talk his mom into letting him use the car again before eleven o’clock tomorrow.

..........................................

It looked like Oliver had attempted to get his hair to stay down today. It seemed neater somehow, but still stuck up in places from constantly running his fingers through it. Frank had noticed the habit a while ago. There were times when Oliver would fall silent, as if contemplating something important, and his hands would take turns going to his head, his fingers reaching for the scars beneath his hair. He did that now as he stared at an outdated tetris game on Frank’s computer.

“Hey,” Frank said as he stepped past the door. His mom had directed him there when he’d arrived home and asked if Oliver had shown up. It seemed that Jessica had sent Oliver there since Rudy was already over at Stephanie’s house, and she was busy putting lesson plans together.

Oliver hadn’t heard Frank come in, and stood quickly, appearing startled as he turned to face him. His smile came soon enough, though. “Hi, Frank. I’ve been waiting for you. Are we gonna go swimming now?”

Frank looked over Oliver, noting the light-blue swimming shorts he was wearing below a dark t-shirt, and frowned. “I was thinking about going swimming earlier,” he admitted. “Did David tell you?” Frank didn’t think it was likely. It seemed obvious to him that David didn’t approve of his friendship with Oliver. But, Oliver’s nervous expression told a different story. “Really?” Frank asked, without waiting for a verbal response. “I didn’t think he’d even tell you I was there.”

“David’s mad again,” Oliver replied. “I don’t wanna talk about him right now, Frank.”

Frank let out a breath, not at all as frustrated as he usually was when Oliver dodged his questions. In fact, this time, he agreed with Oliver. He didn’t want to talk about David, either. He hadn’t been particularly pleased with their conversation that morning. He’d hoped to find answers, but only walked away with questions, and the same lingering suspicion that David had been sneaking around his house. But there was more to it now. There was the photography club. He had as much doubt towards David’s involvement as he had suspicion. He supposed that he didn’t want to rule anything out just yet, but he needed a break from it. At least, until tomorrow.

“You know what, Oliver?” Frank said as he closed his bedroom door. “Let’s go swimming. You want to do it here, or do you know a better place?”

Oliver grinned. “We can take my boat, Frank.”

Frank thought that sounded good enough, so long as they didn’t run into any floating, dead animals. He went to his drawers, unpacked his long-lost swim trunks, and stripped down to pull them on, not putting much thought into the way that Oliver had fallen silent as he watched, but Frank did find himself laughing when he caught the other boy blushing.

Downstairs, they said goodbye to Jessica, and Frank promised he’d be back before it got too dark before they headed out with a couple of towels and the bottled water his mom had insisted that they have. Frank was glad they took it. It was a hot day, the kind that caused the sun to sting their skin and the humidity refused to allow them to escape the heat. But at least the water was cool. In fact, it was cold enough to be uncomfortable in some of the deeper areas, so Oliver took the boat to one of the wider coves. They could see his red roof from it, but the area was still quiet, and perfect for swimming. Although, Frank had to be convinced of that last thing when he felt something brush up against his knee as soon as he jumped in the water. Fortunately, Oliver convinced him that it was likely a piece of driftwood, and assured him that he’d never seen snakes in the particular area.

“Snakes?” Frank demanded, appalled.

Oliver grinned. “Saw a whole nest of them the other day.”

“That’s not funny, Oliver.”

“You have to be careful if you see them in the water, Frank. They’ve got poison. D’you know what a water moccasin looks like? I’ve got some pictures of them I can show you. The babies look different from the big ones. You should know what all of them look like.”

“You’ll tell me if you see one, right?” Frank asked as he warily looked down at the murky water he was treading.

Oliver laughed as he launched himself through the water towards Frank. “I’ll make sure none get close to you, Frank,” he promised as he circled around behind Frank, wrapping both arms loosely around his neck to hold on.

“You’d better not,” Frank grumbled, and then smiled despite himself when he felt Oliver’s nose gently nudging at his damp hair. He turned in the water to meet Oliver’s eyes, and with a playful smirk Frank dug his fingers into the other boy’s ribs, tickling until Oliver was laughing so hard he could hardly stay above the water on his own. This prompted both of them to move a little closer to land, where they could feel the rough bottom of the lake beneath their toes. Oliver enthusiastically dunked himself and came up shaking out his hair, causing Frank to laugh.

“I don’t wanna go home soon, Frank,” Oliver commented. “I wanna stay with you for a long time.”

“My mom said you could sleep over some time. Do you think your parents would let you?”

Oliver’s smile faded as he shook his head. The negative response was exactly why Frank hadn’t asked the question sooner, among other reasons. “They’ll say no, Frank.”

“That’s okay,” Frank insisted as he reached for Oliver’s waist and pulled the other boy towards him. “Maybe some other time. And we still have a while before you have to go home, right?”

Oliver nodded, and his smile returned when Frank leaned forward until their noses touched, and then their lips.

Frank hadn’t bothered to tell Oliver that he wasn’t sure they should be kissing after the first time he’d done it, and it had quickly become obvious that he’d changed his mind. Oliver had a lot to do with that when he’d promised that Frank wasn’t pushing anything on him, which had been Frank’s main concern. And, Frank enjoyed the affection they shared. It was torture sometimes, the way he tried to take things slow. He liked it best when Oliver made the first move, and sometimes afterwards he’d question how involved he should actually become with Oliver, but he’d decided that time would answer that question. The fact was, Frank was less lonely with Oliver. He’d known he had feelings for him, but it seemed that every day he saw him they’d develop just a little bit more, and every day the things he thought were different about Oliver seemed less important, almost as if they didn’t exist. Except one thing. The innocence factor was still bothering Frank, and not just within their developing physical relationship.

Even if the Martins had agreed to let Oliver and Frank see each other, Frank was still worried over what went on in Oliver’s home. But since Oliver insisted that he wasn’t being mistreated, Frank was forced to rationalize that perhaps he was seeing a problem that wasn’t there. Maybe it was possible that he wanted to find something wrong, because if his attention was on the Martins, then it wasn’t on his own broken family. If this was true, then Frank knew that it wasn’t fair to Oliver, but even so, it was difficult not to worry, because even when Oliver claimed that nothing was wrong, there was another boy living in that house that seemed more wrong to Frank every time he came to mind.

Oliver’s eyes were closed when Frank gently pulled away from the kiss, giving him a moment to study the other boy’s peaceful expression; his eyelashes looked longer, wet and clotted together, his pink tinted cheeks and slightly puffy lips as his tongue slipped out to taste where Frank had just been. Frank suddenly wanted to pull him closer and hold onto him. He seemed fragile, and because of that Frank hated anyone who’d ever want to harm him. “Does he hurt you?” Frank asked, and Oliver’s eyes snapped open.

“I don’t understand, Frank,” Oliver said quietly.

Frank sighed, and didn’t explain himself. Instead, he kissed Oliver again, a gesture that was responded to with an equal effort. Right now, Frank decided, it was just better to kiss him.

..........................................

He didn’t know how late it was, but outside his window Frank saw nothing but shadows. Darkness, seeping through the glass just as sunlight might have. He couldn’t seem to move from that spot, despite the fact that he was uncomfortable there with the awful creaks and moans that his mother insisted were normal for such an old house. The dripping of water from the gutters outside seemed to grow louder in his ears, alerting him to the fact that the glass was cracked open and a warm breeze was coming through the screen, bringing with it the musky scent of the nearby lake. A layer of goose bumps rose over his skin as the rough, thin fur of the feline sharing his room brushed against his leg. All it had taken to tame this beast was a piece of hotdog, but Frank still cautiously stepped away from it. He still had battle wounds all up his arms from wrestling the creature out from under his sister’s bed--the feline’s favorite place in the house, it seemed. His mom had wanted him to throw it out of the house, considering how aggressive the cat had seemed, but Frank had brought her--he’d checked--into his own room instead. She’d seemed annoyed by the situation at first, but now it was apparent that the cat was enjoying more comfort than Frank currently was.

His eyes rose to the dark window again, and this time jumped as a startled cry became clogged in his throat at the sight of a human outline in front of his face. The shadow stepped closer, prompting Frank to step back, blindly reaching for anything that might become a weapon. But as the face appeared more clearly, his panic became confusion as he looked out at Oliver’s grinning face.

“Christ!” Frank cursed as he leaned closer before beckoning for Oliver to remain where he was. He didn’t bother pulling pants on over his boxers as he left his room, and then the house. Barefoot he moved around in the darkness, his eyes searching out his unexpected guest. “Oliver?”

Frank reached the outside of his own bedroom window, only to find that no one was there. He frowned, and then jumped at the tap on his shoulder. “Damn it, Oliver!” he cursed, spinning around. “What are you doing...”

Frank’s voice seemed to fade away as he met eyes, shining at him through the darkness, dark and furious. It was Oliver’s face, but the expression...

David stepped forward pointedly, lifting an object threateningly in his left hand. Frank couldn’t seem to move as he stared at the object, silver and shining, polished to perfection, just like always, and as it came down with a blunt force towards his head all he could think was that his dad never would have given one of his old soccer trophies to David. They were even more important to him than Frank and his sister were; his dad had taken those stupid trophies, but...

Frank’s eyes snapped open. A glance at the glowing numbers on his clock told him that it was just past three in the morning. His chest was vibrating, and lifting a hand, he found the cat curled up and purring there. His throat felt dry and his head ached, and there was a faint ringing in his ears as he looked around at the shadows in his dark room, feeling disoriented. He released a shaky breath, purposely not looking towards his window, which he somehow knew, was cracked open, and his hands shook as he lifted them to his sweat-dampened hair. He took a few deep breaths, and then fell still, listening carefully as he realized that the ringing wasn’t coming from inside his ears at all, but somewhere in the house. They hadn’t had the phone that long, and Frank wasn’t used to the sound.

He moved the cat away from him carefully, or at least he tried to. It didn’t work. She was quick to object to being pushed aside, and as she leapt onto the floor he winced when her claws momentarily dug into his chest. The pain succeeded in waking him, and he forced himself from his bed. He regretted it as soon as his bare feet touched the floor and he became lightheaded from standing up too fast.

Half walking, half stumbling, Frank made his way out his door and down the narrow hall, pausing at the doors of his mom’s and sister’s bedrooms. Rudy’s door was cracked, and he could hear her softly snoring, undisturbed by the phone disrupting the night. His mom’s door was closed, and after a moment of listening, he decided that the noise wasn’t bothering her, either. He continued on, careful not to stub his toes on the furniture as he reached the living room.

Each ring of the phone sounded more insistent than the last, causing nervous tension to swell in Frank’s chest, but he didn’t rush. He paused in front of the phone, sat down in the cozy arm chair next to it, and even took the time to clear the sleep from his throat before he answered groggily, not putting nearly enough thought into who would possibly be calling his house at three in the morning.

“Hullo?” he mumbled, still rubbing at his eyes, which seemed slow to adjust to the severe darkness of the house, even after sleep.

The response came in a whisper. “Is it you, Frank?”

Frank blinked. Arron? Eric? Isaac? No. Couldn’t have been any of his friends from back home. He’d never called them with his number, only written again to give it to them, hoping for some sort of response so he could save on the long-distance bill. “Who is this?” he asked, and cleared his throat again when his voice came out scratchy. He felt thirsty. Really thirsty.

“Did you really mean it? Would you do it, Frank? Would you help?” The voice seemed shaky. Distant.

Frank woke up a little more, his awareness prickling. “I don’t know...” he said cautiously. “Who is this?”

Another whisper. “You know who.”

There was a long silence as the caller waited for Frank to respond, and when he finally did, he sounded far from happy. “David? Do you know what fucking time it is?” He was irritated. He’d given his number to Oliver. Not David. His recent nightmare seemed reason enough to hang up now, but he didn’t. “What are you even doing calling me at...”

“I can’t do it anymore,” David interrupted. “I don’t want to. You can make it stop. You’re different.”

Frank paused a beat, beginning to listen to what David was saying, ignoring his irritation over the situation. “You can’t do what anymore?”

“It’s too much. Too fucking much!” David suddenly burst out. “I’m not here... I’m never here. I’m empty.”

“Did you get into your parent’s liquor cabinet or something?”

“I can’t love them. I don’t know how anymore. I don’t. I don’t. What do I do, Frank? Stop it? I can stop it. I will stop it.”

“David, what are you talking about?” Frank asked. David kept saying his name, but it didn’t seem like he was actually talking to him. “Just tell me, okay? Did something happen? Where’s Oliver?”

There was another silence, and even through the phone Frank could feel the anger on the other end of the phone, so much so that he felt himself recoil even before David’s next outburst. “Not Oliver! Stop with Oliver! It’s always fucking Oliver!”

“Shit. Okay... David, is everyone there alright? David?”

............................................

Mary Martin looked around the corner, into the living room where David was now pacing with the phone in his hand.

“No,” he hissed into the receiver. “Alright? Alright? It’s never alright, Frank.”

She thanked god that his back was to her and he didn’t know she’d left her room yet, and cursed him because of who he was on the phone with. She knew it was a bad idea to let Oliver see that boy. Now, David was going to tell him everything. She couldn’t let that happen.

Holding her hand over her fast-swelling black eye, she moved cautiously back to her bedroom to think for a moment. Damn Brian! She had been completely unprepared to be awakened in the middle of the night as David snuck back through his bedroom window. She’d been afraid that Oliver had had a bad dream and went to check on him, but ended up with a confrontation to deal with instead, and she’d have to face it alone. She hadn’t been surprised to find her husband gone. She woke up to that more often than not, the same way she often smelled Francine Barker’s favorite perfume all over his clothes when he came home from town. Normally, she didn’t mind it. If he was with Francine, then he was leaving her alone, but tonight... damn him, she needed him tonight.

There was a thud in the living room, furniture crashing as David cursed, and she jumped. He was just a boy, she told herself. But then, the pain in her eye reminded her that he was a strong boy. He’d threatened to kill her more than once, and she was beginning to believe he’d actually do it. But she had to stop him this time. Stop him before he ruined everything. Things were quiet. Peaceful. She wouldn’t let him take that away.

Blindly, Mary Martin reached over her dresser, feeling a picture frame and a bible before she felt the thick, cheap candle holder Brian had given her last year for Christmas. She held it in her hand for a moment, concerned over the weight... she couldn’t strike him too hard. Had to be careful. She wrapped it in Brian’s pillow case, hoping it would provide the safety net she needed.

On tiptoes she snuck back into the living room, careful not to trip, careful not to breathe. She did her very best not to make a sound as she eyed David, now leaning over the windowsill, his head hung, the phone still to his ear. He was speaking softly, and as she grew closer, she could hear what he was saying.

“Do you know what it’s like, Frank? Do you know it’s like to be seen but not heard?... I do. I’m ready to tell you now. I’ll tell you everything.”

Mary crept even closer, raising the candle holder only to lower it again, hesitating. She couldn’t do this. No. She had to.

“I know what it’s like to not exist,” David whispered. “And when I do... they take the light away.”

Mary lifted the object in her hand once more, closed her eyes, and swung, hoping that it wasn’t too hard as she hard the blow make contact with the back of her son’s head. Her eyes snapped open when she heard him fall, and looking down, she was faced with David’s startled eyes, now glazed over, watering a stream of tears as he stared back at her and struggled to keep the phone to his ear while he managed a few last words before he dropped.

“They always take... the light away. Help me.”