Disclaimer: I don't own Malcolm in the middle, or the song "I want a mom that will last." Cyndi Lauper does.
Notes: is this the first actual fic in the MITM section? *Shrug* Most are about perfect girls who have Reese begging for their love. ^_^ Ok, anyway, I don't know why I'm been in such a depressed writing mood lately (I know that doesn't make any sense!) I mean, in my fanfic "Wrong Card, New World" TK is hanging for his life, in my original story, Kat dies, and now this! Yeesh I need to cheer up…
~I Want a Mom That will Last~
I want a mom that will last forever
I want a mom to make it all better
I want a mom that will last forever
I want a mom who love me whatever
Sunshine had begun peeking through the bare windows of an old, broken house. The paint had begun to chip, weeds had concurred the front yard, and dirt covered the walls. It seemed as if abandoned, alone. But it wasn't the house that felt that; it was the people who lived in it.
Especially a young, ten-year-old child by the name of Dewey. He now slept in a warm, comfortable bed, seeming cut off from the world. His lips were slightly parted, and small snoring sounds escaped it. His threadbare clothes were hanging off his frail figure.
"Boys, wake up!" a voice yelled from behind the door.
"We are up" Reese replied through a force of habit. He turned onto his side and slightly opened his eyes. The door flew open.
"No you aren't! Now get up!" a man growled, wrapping his tie around his neck.
"Ok, fine" Malcolm brushed his blue orbs with the back of his hand and sat up. "Come on Dewey"
He shook his younger brother.
"Do I have to go to school?" the blonde questioned, still half asleep.
"Yeah" Malcolm nodded and picked some clothes out of the pile on the floor. "Reese, it's your week to do the laundry"
"I dunno how" the second oldest brother buried his head under his pillow.
"Mom must have told us how to do it a thousand time! Didn't you ever listen to her?" the chestnut haired boy lectured. He watched his brother get out of bed, grab a holey shirt, baggy jeans, and lock himself inside the bathroom. There was an awkward silence.
"Great one" Dewey pulled a shirt over his chest and grabbed his backpack. The small child walked out of the bedroom, down the cluttered hall, through the kitchen, and finally reached the front door. He put his small hand on the knob, and turned back.
"Love ya! See you after school" he screamed, not wanting the last words his family ever to hear from him was 'Great one.'
"Bye!" the men chorused. He turned the knob and walked out the door. The sweet smell of honeysuckle filled his nose as he quietly walked down the sidewalk. The child wondered what he looked like; hair scattered in every direction, hand-me-down clothes, head directed at the ground. His young mind began thinking about all the days he walked to school. There were times his brothers shoved him off the walkway, there were other times when we skipped, and there was that first week of first grade when his mother walked him.
He held her hand tightly, sweat gathering on the palms. She just smiled her dazzling smile, looking at the world ahead of her. Lois's precious little boy was growing quicker than she could imagine. To her, it felt like he was in diapers just yesterday; now he was entering grammar school. But her little child still clung to her, thinking nothing could go wrong if his mother was with him.
But he later found he was wrong. Bad things could happen when he was with his mother.
The accident for instance.
They had been coming home from Dewey's school. It was around seven o'clock; they just had the open house. Lois was able to see his artwork (we was quiet good for a boy his age) talk with his teacher (he was a perfect angel) and even met some of Dewey's real friends (He had become quiet the socialite).
"Did you see my globe, mom?" Dewey asked, a smile spread across his small face.
"Yes I did honey. It was really good" she turned and returned the smile.
"Yay!" he jumped slightly in his seat, and the belt came undone. "Opps"
"Hold on" she stopped at the side of the rode, undid her seat belt, and leaned over the seat. She grabbed his belt and forced it into the buckle.
"Yay!" he repeated. After that, there was a giant light, a thud sound, and his memory went blank.
Dewey overheard his brothers- including Francis, crying; something he had never seen, let alone heard. Hal had told them that while she was on the side of the rode, some reckless drunk lost control of his car. They had slammed into each other.
Figures, doesn't it? Out of all the families in the world, this happened to them. If Dewey's seat belt hadn't come undone, his mother would be safe. If it had stayed buckled for another minute or two, she would be fine. Funny how fate works. And now he would do anything to hold her hand, skip down the street, and kiss her good-bye.
I want a mom to take my hand
And make me feel like a holiday
A mom to tuck me in at night
And chase the monsters away
I want a mom to read me stories
And sing a lullaby
And if I have a bad dream, to hold me when I cry
Now the small child sat in his class, listening to his teacher talk about multiplication. She was going over what 4x9 was. He knew the answer, of course. His mother had taught him a trick: whenever something was multiplied by 9, it equaled 9. The answer was 36.
His hand shoot into the air as tears began to well up in his eyes.
"Yes Dewey?" Mrs. Larson questioned. She was pretty young- probably in her late twenties.
"Can, can I go to the office?" he studdered.
"Yes, of course" she nodded sympathetically. He jumped out of his desk, grabbed his backpack, and ran out the door.
~*~
"Dad shouldn't have made him go back to school so soon" Malcolm commented.
"Yeah, I know" Francis nodded, then glanced at his younger brother. "It's only been two weeks"
"Francis, can I talk to you for a minute?" an Alaskan girl grabbed the blonde's arm.
"Hm? Ok, sure" they walked out of the brown walled office.
"Can we have him?"
"What?" Piama slightly smiled.
"He needs to get away from here for a while. How does Hal expect him to stay in the same school? Dewey's being really brave, and I think it's really going to break him after a while"
"Why are you acting so different?"
"Listen, just because I hated your mom doesn't mean I want Dewey to be so miserable. He's too young to have to deal with this. If we take him back up to Alaska, he can have time to heal"
"Ok, who are you, and what have you done with my wife?"
"Francis, I'm serious!" She stomped her foot.
"Ok, listen, I'll talk to dad about it. I can't promise anything, but I'll try. Happy?"
"Maybe" he lightly kissed her lips.
Oh, I want a mom that will last forever
I want a mom to make it all better
I want a mom that will last forever
I want a mom that will love me whatever, forever
~*~
"I don't know Francis. How will you support him?" Hal ruffled his gray hair.
"I have a good paying job, and Piama brings in more than enough" Francis smiled at his wife. She stood by his side, agreeing with each and every word.
"Have you talked to Dewey?"
"No, not yet. We don't want to give his hopes up if he wants to come"
"What? You thought I'd say no?"
"Isn't that what you're doing?"
Hal paused.
"No, not exactly"
"So, can I go?" Dewey crawled out from under the table.
"When'd you get there?" Piama cocked an eyebrow.
"I was in here trying to get a soda when you guys came in" Dewey answered, nodding his head a little.
"Oh"
~*~
And when she says to me she'll always be there
To watch and protect me, I don't have to be scared
Oh, and when she says to me 'I will always love you,'
I won't need to worry cause I'll know that it's true
Dewey sat in his new room, eyes wide open. It had a snowy cabin look- wooden walls, hard wood flooring, elaborate carpets, and heavy blankets on the bed; he looked out the window. Snow blanketed the ground and mountains. Small lights illuminated the sky- the Aurora Borealis. He smiled and watched the pink, blues, greens, and purples flutter through the sky.
"Dewey, can I come in?" a girl poked her head through the door.
"Uh-huh" he nodded and straightened his back a tiny bit. Piama walked into the room, holding a teddy bear at her side. She sat on the edge of his bed.
"How do you like it here?"
"It's really pretty…" he turned to the window.
"Ya… here" she held out the bear and let Dewey take it. "His name's Paris. I got him when I was around you age, before my mom died. He helped me sometimes. Just thought you might like it"
"Thanks" he turned to the mountains once again.
"Dewey," she spoke after a minute. "I don't want to take your moms place, because I know no one can do that. I know how you feel, really. So I won't pressure you to say or do anything you aren't ready for"
"What should I call you?" She was slightly take back by the question.
"Whatever you like. Piama, sis, anything you feel comfortable with"
"Ok, sis" he smiled.
"Ok" she slightly squeezed his hand before she left. He wiped a new tear away.
"Mom… thanks" he turned to the sky and whispered. "Thanks for giving me a sister. I like her already"
I want a mom when I get lonely, who will take the time to play
A mom who can be a friend and find a rainbow when its gray
I want a mom to read me stories and sing a lullaby
And if I have a bad dream, to hold me when I cry.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Oh the sappiness of it all! I think there's another side of Piama like this. I can't believe she's so… well, kinda cruel and cold like she's portrayed in the show. Well, thanks for reading, and please drop a review!