Cousin Mark
I started this story ages ago, but then stalled out. It was actually KayValo87's kidfic series that inspired me to finish it.
I want to thank everyone who has reviewed my other stories, but especially and PattyB who has been so encouraging. You have no idea how terrified I was when my first story got reviews-I made someone else read them first to tell me if they was good or bad. Anyway, the two of you wrote very encouraging reviews that convinced me maybe I could do this.
I do want to give a couple warnings here; this story does have corporal punishment (but NOT like supergirl3684) and I want to give an 'ick' warning. Trust me, something pretty gross happens.
"Hey Dad, what have you got there?" Charlie greeted his father, coming home from work.
Alan looked up from the letter he had been reading, " Oh, hi Charlie. I got a letter from cousin Steve. Guess what? Mark's been named the president of that bank he's been working at! Isn't that terrific? He's such a credit to the family!"
Charlie swallowed hard at the mention of cousin Mark, but Alan went on, oblivious to his youngest's aversion, "Do you remember when Mark stayed here for a couple of weeks as a child? You were pretty young [six, thought Charlie, going on seven, and unfortunately, he remembered Mark's visit all too well], but the three of you got along like a house on fire! You know," continued Alan, "your mother and I were worried that you would be left out, since Donnie and Mark are the same age. But that didn't happen."
Charlie gazed at his father in mild surprise. 'He doesn't know' thought Charlie, wildly, 'he honestly doesn't know what a nasty piece of work Mark is, and just how cruel he was. Was there any point in telling Dad?'
Charlie became aware that his father was looking at him, waiting for a response, "Yeah, Dad. I remember Mark. I don't think I could ever forget that summer."
Happily, Dad took that at face value, and left it at that.
It was something for Charlie to remember if he ever became a parent. So often adults get it all wrong. They will be concerned about something a child will take in stride, and stay ignorant of the very real dramas going on in their child's life. Look at Margaret and Alan, both very attentive parents, but with no clue of the tensions and conflicts that were happening between Charlie, Don and Mark that summer.
Charlie and Donnie had been raised on stories of cousin Steve. His dad was the brother of Grand-dad Eppes, and Steve was about the same age as Alan. They lived only a few blocks apart, and the cousins were inseperable. A lot of people even thought they were brothers, since they shared the same last name.
Cousin Steve had married about the same time as Alan, and had a son, Mark, just a few months before Donnie was born. But when the boys were about a year old, Steve got a job in the Chicago area. So the dreams Alan and Steve had of Mark and Donnie repeating history were dashed.
However, Steve and his wife Anita were taking a long planned trip to Hawaii, and were visiting L.A. first for a few days. While they were in Hawaii, Mark was staying with Alan's family. Everyone was convinced it would be wonderful for Mark and Donnie to spend time together and get to know one another.
Donnie had been wild with excitement at the idea of having a boy cousin his own age staying with them. All of his cousins who lived nearby were either girls, or a lot older or younger than him. Charlie had mixed feelings; while he liked the idea of a boy cousin, especially the son of much-talked-about cousin Steve, he was afraid Donnie and Mark would abandon him.
The thought must have crossed Mom and Dad's minds as well, because they kept telling Donnie in no uncertain terms that Mark was Charlie's cousin as well.
When Mark finally came to Pasadena, the build-up was so intense, his actual appearance almost HAD to be a let-down. And it was. Donnie (who turned twelve that summer) and Charlie stared at this stranger who happened to be their cousin, suddenly feeling shy.
Mark, also twelve, was taller and skinnier than the sturdier built Donnie. He had the Eppes' nose and coloring, but he looked pale and washed-out. His hair was a flat brown, his eyes dull and muddy looking, his skin was pasty-looking. It was as if some artist had taken the rather handsome Eppes' traits and smeared them. Mark wasn't ugly, just plain.
Mark had been gazing back at Donnie and Charlie, just as curious as they were, then flushed slightly, before approaching them. At twelve, neither Donnie nor Mark were socially graceful yet. There were awkward hello's before Mark fixed his eyes on Charlie, and said, "You're the smart one. You're the genuis."
Charlie agreed that he was. Then Mark fixed his look on Don, and said, "So you're NOT the smart one."
Surprised, Don flushed, than stammered, "I'm not a genuis like Charlie, if that's what you mean."
Mark, smiled, "I mean you're not the smart one. That makes you the dumb one." With that, Mark winked at Charlie. Confused, Charlie smiled back tentatively.
Donnie's face looked cold and stony, "Yeah, I guess I am the dumb one." He turned his back on his brother and cousin and started to march away.
"Hey! I'm only teasing!" called out Mark. "Come on, I didn't mean to make you mad!"
Donnie hesitated, than returned, "It's okay, I'm not mad."
"So, you play baseball, right?" asked Mark.
Donnie nodded, eagerly, "Do you play?"
"Naw, I'm not a dumb jock," said Mark, still smiling. Donnie stiffened, but Mark was turning to a puzzled Charlie, "I'm a scholar, like you. What are you studying now? In math, of course."
Charlie couldn't help but feel flattered. Pleased, he told his cousin, "I can show you, if you want. Do you want to see what I'm working on? Really?"
Mark laughed, "Of course I do!" Turning to Donnie, he went on with a smile, "I don't suppose YOU can understand it."
Donnie was standing very still, "NO!" he spat, "and don't try to pretend YOU can understand it either!"
Mark flushed, "I can understand it better than you! Come on Charlie! Let's go and see what you're doing!"
Nothing loath, Charlie happily trotted along with his cousin, jabbering away about math. The two of them spent all day together while Donnie sulked.
That night, Mom and Dad asked Mark where he wanted to sleep, and he surprised them and delighted Charlie by asking if he could sleep with Charlie. At six, almost seven, Charlie had never had a friend to a sleep-over, or been invited to one. Donnie had, of course. Charlie had often lain awake, listening to his brother and a friend whispering and laughing in the next room. He had always burned with envy, wishing he had a friend.
It was exciting to think Donnie was going to be the one left out while Mark and Charlie got to have a sleep-over. When the boys finally went to bed, Charlie was almost bouncing off the walls with excitement. But that didn't last long. All Mark wanted to talk about were 'secrets.' He told Charlie secrets about his friends, who Charlie didn't know, and demanded Charlie tell him secrets in return.
When Charlie protested that he didn't know any secrets Mark insisted that he HAD to, and got mad. Charlie, miserable, and desperate to keep his cousin as a friend, finally admitted that he had one secret, but Mom had said it was a family secret, and he wasn't to talk about it. Mark acted insulted, saying he WAS family, a cousin, with the same last name.
"Well," said Charlie, "over spring break Donnie peed his pants and then cried."
Mark burst out laughing, "Are you kidding me? He's what, eleven? And he pissed his pants?"
"It wasn't like that!" protested Charlie, trying to explain.
It was the first night of spring break, and as a special treat, Donnie and Charlie got to stay up late watching a movie, eating popcorn, and drinking soda pop. As a result, Donnie woke up around 2:30, needing to pee. He stumbled to the bathroom in the dark, but Charlie was already in the upstairs bathroom.
Still half-asleep, Donnie decided to go use the downstairs bathroom. In the dark, he missed his step on the stairs, and tumbled down them. Mom and Dad, hearing the commotion, raced to the steps, Charlie right behind them. Donnie was curled at a strange angle at the landing, whimpering slightly.
"Mom?" he called, "My arm hurts."
Margaret and Alan were alarmed, because Donnie almost never complained. They took off his top and examined his arm, but it looked normal. There was no swelling, no bruising, no redness.
"What should we do?" asked Mom.
"I don't know, I don't SEE anything. Maybe it's just a deep bruise. It's almost 3:00. Let's wait until morning, then see how it looks." suggested Dad.
But when they tried to get Donnie back up the stairs, he stopped, shivering, and whimpered, "It hurts to move. Can I just stay on the couch?"
So Mom got blankets and pillows and made up the couch, but then Donnie complained it hurt to lay down. He sat instead, and a very worried Margaret made him a cocoon with the blankets and pillows, then announced she was staying downstairs with him. Dad said he was staying up too, and went to make coffee. Not wanting to be left out, Charlie curled up on the rest of the couch next to Donnie, and hoped he would be allowed to stay.
"Be careful with your brother, Charlie. Don't bump him." instructed Mom, so he knew it was okay.
Both boys were almost asleep, when the original reason for Donnie's getting out of bed demanded attention: his bladder was full. Donnie struggled to get out of his cocoon of blankets and get to the toilet. Mom and Dad, not understanding what he was doing, tried to stop him, until he wailed, "I've got to go pee!"
Then they tried to help him, but it hurt to even walk. Donnie struggled to get to the bathroom on time, while trying not to move too fast and make his arm hurt. He didn't make it. He ended up wetting himself. It was too much; the combination of pain, fatique, and shame broke the boy and he burst into tears.
Margaret and Alan were appalled.
"Oh Donnie! Poor baby! It's okay! Nobody's mad! Don't be so upset, it's alright." soothed Mom.
"Let's get him to the hospital," said Dad. "There has to something really wrong here."
It turned out there was, indeed, something really wrong-Donnie had broken his left humerus, the bone in the upper arm.
After spending an exhausting morning at the ER, then going to the drug store to fill prescriptions, the Eppes' ate a late breakfast, then all settled in to catch up on some sleep.
"Mom?" asked Charlie when he was being tucked in, "Did Donnie really pee his pants?"
Margaret gave her youngest a stern look, "Charlie, your brother was in a lot of pain, exhausted, and probably in a mild state of shock. He wasn't himself. Now, he's been through enough. I don't want you shaming him by EVER bringing that up, do you hear me? It's a family secret, and as a member of this family, you have to keep this secret, okay?"
Impressed, Charlie had nodded, "I won't tell anyone."
Charlie grimaced, his mother had meant well, but looking back now he could see how her words had helped him blow the whole incident out of proportion. Don had been a very important person in Charlie's life when he was a child. It wasn't just that Don was his trusted older brother and protector, but Don was about Charlie's only companion any where near his own age. Because of his genius, Charlie had a hard time relating to other children, plus he spent most of his time with tutors.
Seeing Don so distressed had been extremely upsetting to Charlie, and he really needed to talk about it. Of course, he should have talked to one of his parents, but after what his mother said, he believed he wasn't suppose to discuss this with them.
Long after the rest of the family had all but forgotten the whole incident, and moved on, Charlie was still worrying and wondering about that night, convinced that Donnie wetting his pants was an important secret.
Getting it off his chest to Mark had, at first, been a relief. But not for long.
"Please, please, Mark. You can't tell this to anyone. Mom will know I told. I'll get in trouble." begged Charlie.
"Will you relax? Your Mom's never gonna know. Besides, I already told you, I'm family. So it's okay I know." insisted Mark.
Charlie let himself be mollified, but still there was a prick of unease; Mark seemed entirely too satisfied with Donnie's embarrassing secret. And even as young as he was, Charlie was far from stupid; it had already occurred to him that Mark's secrets about unknown people in Chicago were pretty useless.
The next morning Charlie was feeling slightly guilty, when Donnie grabbed his arm and whispered, "Hey Buddy, I need to talk to you. Alone."
Curious, Charlie had sneaked away with Donnie, but was angry when Donnie told him, "Look Charlie, I know Mark's our cousin, but you can't trust him. I know kids like him, they're sneaky and use you."
"That's not true!" protested Charlie, "You're just saying that 'cause you're jealous! Mark likes me! Better than he does you! And you're jealous!"
Don got angry back, "No I'm not! He's a SNOT! I don't care if he is our cousin! I don't like him!"
"Well I do! So stay out of it!" Charlie stormed away.
Charlie tried to put Donnie's words out of his head, but he couldn't entirely. He quickly became aware that Mark didn't understand math, and wasn't really interested in it. The only times Mark acted interested in listening to Charlie talk about math was when Donnie was forced to be with them.
When it was just Mark and Charlie, Mark quickly became bored and wanted to find other things to do.
"Let's go search Donnie's room," he suggested. Charlie was torn. Of course, HE frequently went through Donnie's stuff, but he was pretty sure his brother would be mad if he caught Mark in his room.
"Let's go feed the koi instead," said Charlie.
"Naw, that's boring. Let's go see if Donnie has some secrets," insisted Mark.
Charlie felt uneasy. Mark was much too interested in 'secrets'.
But this time Mark was foiled. When he tried Donnie's door, it wouldn't open. Charlie was puzzled, because he knew Donnie's door didn't lock, but Donnie had found some way to block it closed.
Frustrated, Mark stomped down the steps, then paused to examine Alan's desk. Charlie hovered nearby, worried about getting caught, although he wasn't sure if his parents cared or not if they went through the papers in the desk.
"Will you relax?" asked Mark, "Your dad's at work, and your mom's outside working in the garden. No one will know."
"But it just a bunch of papers, why do you want to look at them?"
"Just a bunch of papers, huh? What about this?" returned Mark, holding up Dad's paddle.
"That's a paddle," said Charlie, nervously. The sight of the paddle always made him anxious, even though it was almost always Donnie, not him, who was on the receiving end of the paddle.
"It looks like a ping-pong paddle with the rubber coating off."
"That's what it was. But Dad uses it now."
Mark was all attention, "You mean to spank you with?"
Charlie swallowed hard and nodded, "I don't get spanked too often though, it's usually Donnie."
Mark eyes glowed, "What does he get spanked for?"
Charlie shrugged, uncomfortable, "I don't know. Back-talking or fighting, mostly, I guess. Why?"
Mark looked thoughtful, "Just wondering."
Looking back, Charlie KNEW he really didn't guess what his cousin was up to, because he could vividly remember being shocked when something DID happen. Still, he also distinctly remembered being suspicious when Mark seemed so fascincinated with the idea of Donnie getting paddled.
It was shortly after Mark found the paddle that his teasing of Donnie escalated. Mark was constantly jeering at Donnie, calling him a dumb jock and implying Charlie was more important than Donnie. Worse, he started invading Donnie's personal space, physically crowding close to Donnie, and forcing Donnie to try to dance around him.
Donnie kept getting more and more angry, telling Mark to leave him alone. Mark laughed at him, taunting, "What are you going to do if I don't?"
After several days of this, Donnie had enough. Mark had him penned against a wall, sneering, "Oh, tough, dumb jock. Maybe Charlie can tell you the best angle for getting around me."
Donnie, at his wit's end, lowered his shoulder and barreled past his cousin. He didn't get far; Mark let out a howl of pain, and doubled over. Donnie stopped, and looked at Mark, bewildered; he knew he hadn't bumped him that hard. Charlie was also puzzled at Mark's cries of pain. Donnie hadn't actually HIT Mark, just shoved him slightly.
In any case, Alan and Margaret came flying to see what was wrong. When they questioned Mark, he gestured to Donnie, "I didn't mean to make him so mad. I was just teasing. He didn't need to elbow me in the stomach."
Mom and Dad turned shocked faces toward Donnie, who protested, "I didn't... I didn't MEAN to, I was just trying to get around him..." Donnie's voice petered out weakly.
Dad, stern-faced, grabbed Donnie's wrist and dragged him over to the desk to get the paddle.
Charlie watched his brother squirm across Dad's knee while Dad spanked him. When Charlie heard a snicker behind him, he glanced over his shoulder, and was stunned to see Mark standing upright, grinning, and watching the spanking intently.
After a dozen whacks, Alan let Donnie up, then dragged him over to Mark, demanding, "Now apologize, young man!" Mark was once again bent over, face averted, looking like he was in pain.
Donnie choked out, "Sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." Finally released, Donnie fled shame-faced to his room.
Mom and Dad clustered around Mark, concerned, "Are you okay? Do you need to lay down?"
Mark shook his head, "I'm fine now. I think I'll just go sit by the koi pond for awhile."
Margaret and Alan were obviously relieved, "Alright. Charlie, you go with him."
So Charlie reluctantly followed Mark outside. As soon as they were out of eyesight of the adults, Mark dropped the act. He started laughing, "That worked out well, huh?"
Charlie stared at him, "You weren't hurt at all! You deliberately got Donnie spanked!"
Mark's face darkened, "So? It worked, didn't it? Didn't you like watching him get it?"
It was at that point Charlie looked at Mark, and realized that not only didn't he like Mark, but he was afraid of him.
That night, Charlie quickly pretended to go to sleep, so Mark couldn't talk to him. He lain awake for a long time, trying to figure out exactly why he was scared of his cousin. He knew Mark wasn't going to hit him, and he didn't think Mark could trick Dad into spanking him, still, Mark frightened him. There was just something WRONG with Mark. He was anxious for Mark's visit to be over.
If Charlie had felt free to talk to Donnie about how Mark scared him, he would have felt better. But first af all, Donnie avoided Mark and Charlie as much as possible. Second, Charlie was too ashamed to approach his brother. Charlie knew from the get go that Mark wasn't being nice to Donnie, and at first that had pleased him.
Then, when Donnie tried to warn Charlie about Mark, Charlie had gotten mad. And even though Charlie really hadn't been in on Mark's plan to get Donnie spanked, Charlie knew Mark had pumped him for information.
Finally, Charlie was all too aware of his blabbing 'THE SECRET', and now that he no longer trusted Mark, it worried him. All of this combined made him feel too guilty to talk to Donnie, so maybe what happened next was inevitable.
Mark only had a few days left of his visit, and Mom suggested the three boys walk down to a local park, instructing them to stay together. So the three of them had glumly gone to the park, Donnie trying to put at least a little distance between himself and the other two.
When they got to the park, they saw a cluster of about half-a-dozen boys, all about the same age as Donnie and Mark. Donnie, when he realized who the boys were, headed in a different direction. Charlie recognized Carl Wilcox as one of the boys. He knew Donnie and Carl were not friends, and had been in more than one fight.
Mark, curious, gazed at the other boys, asking, "Who are they?"
Donnie frowned, "Nobody. Carl's a bully, and the others all kiss his ass."
"Let's go over there," said Mark.
"NO! And I won't let you take my brother over there either!" exclaimed Donnie.
Mark sneered at him, "Your brother doesn't have to have your permission."
However Charlie, who had heard stories of Carl, immediately piped up, "I'm scared of Carl. I don't want to go over there."
Donnie relaxed, but Mark was pissed.
"You're a lot smarter than this dumb jock! You shouldn't let him tell you what to do!"
"I'm his older brother! I look out for him!" yelled Donnie.
"Oh, is that what you tell yourself to make you feel important? I suppose you need SOMETHING to feel important. You're not, you know. Charlie's the one who's important. You're a nothing. Your parents don't know what to do with you. They sure as hell don't want to bother going to your silly ball games.
"They're ashamed of you. The whole family's ashamed of you. You're so stupid, playing baseball is about all you can do. You're almost twelve years old and you go around pissing your pants and then crying about it like a little baby!"
Donnie stood shock-still during this onslaught, lips slightly parted, staring at Mark. He was so white, his eyes looked almost black. When Mark taunted Donnie about peeing his pants, Donnie turned his head slowly, and gave Charlie a stunned, wounded look.
Charlie felt frozen in place, his throat ached, and he could only shake his head at his brother mutely. Donnie was silent for a minute after Mark's hateful words, then said quietly, "Fine. I'm not important and I'm stupid. I'm sure Charlie will be safe with you."
Then he spun on his heel, and rapidly walked away. Charlie wanted to run after him, wrap his arms around Donnie and cry it wasn't true, NONE of what Mark said was true; but he was afraid Donnie hated him.
Mark was grinning in satisfation, "Come on Charlie, let's go talk to those boys."
Because he didn't know what else to do, Charlie dragged himself after Mark, wondering dully why Mark was so intent on talking to Carl. With a sudden flash of insight, Charlie suddenly realized Mark's intentions.
Dashing ahead of Mark, and planting his small body in Mark's way, Charlie hissed, "You dare tell those boys about Donnie peeing his pants when he broke his arm and I'm telling Mom and Dad that you were faking when you pretended to be hurt and got Donnie spanked!"
Mark, startled, gaped at Charlie, "Hey! We're friends! I'm on your side! You can't tell on me!"
"Donnie's my brother! I love him! I didn't want him spanked! And you are suppose to keep that secret! You promised! And I WILL tell on you if you break your promise, and Dad will spank you!"
Truthfully, Charlie wasn't sure Dad would spank Mark, but it sounded good. But more important, Charlie hoped the threat would silence Mark. Charlie absolutely could not bear the idea of Donnie's classmates, especially Carl, knowing about Donnie's accident.
Mark scowled and growled back, "Fine. But we're no longer friends."
Charlie retorted, "We never really WERE friends."
Before Mark could answer this, Carl and the other boys advanced towards them, calling, "Hey! Aren't you Donnie Eppes' little brother?" Carl pointed to Mark, "Who's he?"
Charlie, nervously, answered, "He's Mark Eppes, my cousin."
Carl stopped and stared at them, "You mean there's three of you Eppes?"
Mark, livid at Charlie for spoiling his plans, was unwise enough to sneer, "Wow. Did you figure that out all by yourself? Or did some of your friends help you? Or maybe you managed to count to three on your fingers."
There was a moments of shocked silence, while Carl and the other boys absorbed these insults, then Carl rushed towards Mark, screaming at his friends, "Get him!"
But Mark had already realized the danger, and took to his heels. Mark had several yards head start, and he was very tall for his age with long legs so he managed to get away. However Charlie had been unprepared for Mark to leave him like that; Donnie would never have done so. He gaped at Mark's rapidly retreating figure, before realizing he should run too. But it was too late.
Charlie felt hands grabbing his upper arms, and a couple of the boys announced (rather unnecessarily), "We got the pipsqueak at least."
Charlie was so scared he was shaking and his knees knocked so hard he could barely stand. He looked at Carl and begged, "Please, please let me go. It was Mark who said that stuff, not me."
Carl jeered, "He's your cousin, and Donnie's your brother. I don't like Donnie."
A couple of the boys looked uneasy, "Um, Carl? You're not really gonna beat him up, are you? He's like what? Five years old?"
'Six, almost seven,' thought Charlie, but he wisely kept his month closed. Instinct told him the younger these boys thought he was, the better.
Carl frowned, "Yeah, you're right. He's too little to beat up. If he was a fish, we would have to throw him back." However, the word 'fish' gave Carl an idea, and his eyes lit up, "Hey, Ryan, wasn't there a worm under that rock you picked up?"
Charlie was confused, and the rest of the boys looked as puzzled as he was.
"Uh, yeah, " answered Ryan, "Why?"
Carl grinned nastily at Charlie, "Because we're going to make the small-fry eat the worm."
After a second's silence, there was a chorus of yuck! and gross! from the rest of the boys while Charlie fought against the two boys holding him, pleading, "No! No! Please!"
Ryan came running up, having fetched the worm, and handed it to Carl. Carl advanced on Charlie, "Come on, open your mouth, or I'll force it open."
Charlie could see the worm wiggling in Carl's hand, and in terror screamed, "DONNIE! DONNIE! HELP!" before he remembered that Donnie might hate him.
The next second someone barreled into one of the boys holding him, and Charlie was releaved to hear Donnie's voice screaming, "Let go of my brother! Leave him alone Carl!"
"Donnie!" cried Charlie, "They were going to make me eat a worm!"
Donnie planted himself between Charlie and Carl, "He's just a little kid, Wilcox! He's done nothing to you!"
Carl fired back, "He was with that mouthy twerp who's your cousin! Tell you what, you get HIM back here, and I'll feed him the worm instead of your brother! Besides, the little coward ran away and left your brother!"
"I don't care about Mark! You catch him, you can do whatever you want to him! But you're not touching Charlie!"
"Yeah, well, I think I am!"
"You'll have to go through me first!"
"Not a problem!"
And with that Donnie and Carl were on each other, fists flying. Even though Carl was bigger, Donnie was holding his own, until the rest of the boys decided to join in. Badly outnumbered, Donnie was soon down, Carl straddling him, pounding Donnie's face.
Charlie was crying, begging Carl to stop, but was ignored. He could hear the blows, and saw blood, and Donnie's left eye was already swelling shut. Charlie thought he couldn't stand it, but he couldn't stop it, when he realized he could stop it. All he had to do was something that was both deceptively easy and incredibly hard.
Without giving himself time to really think about it, Charlie was pushing and shoving his way into the circle of boys, to yell in Carl's face, "STOP! I'll do it! I'll eat the worm!"
Shocked, Carl paused in mid-swing to gape at Charlie. Truthfully, he and the rest of the boys had all but forgotten Charlie.
Looking around, Charlie spotted the worm where Carl had dropped it. It was half squashed, but still alive. Charlie snatched it up, and with eyes closed, shoved it in his mouth and gagged it down.
Ignoring the 'eeeewwww's', he marched back to Carl, opened his mouth, and said, "There! See! Now let my brother go!"
Carl slowly got to his feet and backed off. Charlie dropped to his knees, to help Donnie who was struggling to get up. When they got to their feet, Donnie put one arm around Charlie's shoulders, and Charlie put an arm around Donnie's waist.
"Come on Buddy," said Donnie softly, "let's go."
They staggered off, and as soon as they circled a bush which shielded them from the other boys' eyes, they sank to their knees by mutual, unspoken consent. Then Charlie was on all fours, heaving. He felt Donnie's arms around him, holding him while he threw-up.
When he had finally emptied his stomach, Donnie patted his back, "You okay, Buddy?"
Crying, Charlie nodded, then leaned against his brother, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You were right about Mark. He's a snot. I knew he wasn't being nice to you, but I thought it was fun at first. But then I didn't like it. But I didn't know what to do!
"He wasn't really hurt you know. When you got spanked? He just pretended so you would get in trouble.
"And that stuff he said wasn't true. You ARE important. No one's ashamed of you. Please don't hate me!"
Donnie was rocking him slightly, "Shhhh, Buddy, it's okay. I'm not mad. And how could I hate you? You're my brother. Besides, you ate a worm to save me. That's the bravest thing I've ever seen!"
Charlie lifted his head to peer at his brother, "Really? You think I'm brave?"
"Yeah, I do. Thank-you by the way. You came to my rescue."
"But I was afraid."
"Yeah, that's a bully's biggest weapon, fear. It's alright to be afraid Charlie. You just can't let it control you. And you can't let creeps like Mark control you either. You just have to stand up to them."
Charlie leaned against his brother and felt a warm glow despite his tender stomach. He and Donnie were friends again, he had actually saved his big brother (he just wished the WAY he had saved his brother was different), and Donnie thought he was brave.
He also thought he understood why he wasn't suppose to talk about the night Donnie broke his arm. Charlie would just as soon not think about worms.
"Donnie?" asked Charlie, "do we have to tell Mom and Dad?"
"I think they'll know I've been in a fight, " replied Donnie (which was definitely true, Donnie was a mess).
"I mean about the worm. I don't want anyone to know."
"Okay, it will be our secret."
That reminded Charlie, "I'm sorry I told Mark your secret."
"That's okay. Who cares what Mark thinks? He'll be gone soon anyway. You ready to go home now?"
They hadn't gotten very far, when Mark popped up from where he had been hiding, "What happened?"
"YOU LEFT ME!" screamed Charlie, while Donnie glared at him.
"I had to," pleaded Mark, "or else they would have beaten me up."
"Instead they beat Donnie up! And he didn't do anything!"
"Why don't you go back and talk to those boys?" asked Donnie. "You were so eager to talk to them. Go ahead, they want to talk to you, too."
Mark flushed, but kept quiet. He also kept quiet when Donnie and Charlie came up with a story to tell Mom and Dad to explain how the three of them had gotten seperated, then Carl and his friends had cornered Charlie, forcing Donnie to come to his rescue.
That night, Charlie clung to his brother, and asked if he could sleep with Donnie and Mark could have his bed. Alan and Margaret hesitated, then agreed.
For the few remaining days Mark was there, the brothers stayed united against him, and were glad to finally see him leave.
"Hey Buddy! What's up?" Don greeted his brother walking out to the koi pond.
"Just taking a trip down memory lane. Do you remember Mark?"
Don grimaced, "Unfortunately, yes. What brings him up?"
"Dad got a letter from Steve. Mark's a bank president."
"Figures. There's no justice, is there?"
"Oh, I don't know. He's an only child," answered Charlie. "And I wish you would tell me something that's puzzled me for a long time."
"Yeah, what's that?"
"Mark tried to get in your room, but the door was blocked. Your door didn't lock. How did you do that?"
"Obviously, I put a heavy piece of furniture in front of the door."
"But you weren't in your room!" protested Charlie.
Don regarded him for a minute, then said, "Seriously? You don't know? Charlie, the koi pond is outside your bedroom window, and the grape arbor is outside Dad's. What was outside my window, and the upstairs bathroom window right next door?"
"That large tree," said Charlie, slowly.
"Right, I just went into the bathroom, out the window to the tree, through my window, blocked the door, back to the bathroom, and no one the wiser. Simple, really."
"You could also climb down the tree, to the yard," realized Charlie.
"I could."
"So all the times you were grounded, and supposedly confined to your room?"
"I wasn't in my room. I thought you knew."
"No! You're lucky Mom and Dad never found out!"
"Yeah, and I would just as soon Dad not find out!"
"Why? Afraid he'll ground you? That worked so well the first time!"
"Hey! You never know! He might still have that paddle!"