CHAPTER TWO

Arthur and Francine made their way into the crowded pool area of the local park. Boys and men looked their way as Francine arrived, and she hadn't even removed her cover-up yet. Arthur gave them all dirty looks, a final scowl causing his right contact to fall out. He was instantly half-blind, and Francine scoffed angrily, helping him bend down and look for the contact, much to the joy of the people behind her.

"I told you that glasses would be better. I shouldn't swim in these things anyway," Arthur said sternly.

"Oh, not you babe. You should wear glasses, just not those hideous brown things. I'll help you pick out new ones," she smiled. Arthur realized she meant the people behind them who were staring, but he still wasn't happy with her reply.

"That's not how it works. I used up my insurance money to get the contacts. I have to wait another year to get new glasses," Arthur said sternly.

"Don't be silly, Arthur. You can just lie to get new ones. Katherine does that all the time with her work insurance."

"We don't get that kind of insurance, and Mom would never go for it. I'll be fine; Don't worry about me," Arthur said quickly, standing up.

"So you're just giving up? Seriously, I thought your mom was cool. I guess she doesn't realize you're a grown man now," Francine grinned, hugging him. She let her hand wander, but Arthur pushed her away.

"Do you mind if we just go for ice cream? I hear the Brain's parents are having a sale for the holiday weekend," Arthur smiled. Francine grinned, leading him towards the pool's exit, careful to strut carefully. She noticed quite a few positive reactions in the crowd, though she ignored the angry glares from the female patrons who were trying their hardest to keep their men contained. Francine withheld giggles as they walked a few blocks up to the shop.

"Arthur! Francine!" Brain's mom smiled. "What can I get you two?" she asked politely, ice cream scoop in-hand.

"We'll have your special sundae, the one you guys offer on Valentine's Day," Francine replied. Arthur's face went pale: He couldn't afford that.

"Well, our banana shipment didn't come in. I could get you a brownie sundae instead and make it for two," she offered. Francine accepted the offer before moving to the island behind her. It contained the spoons, napkins, and extra napkins. The shop had tried just handing them out to people like they did in the old days, but the excessive traffic within the store made that impossible.

"Thank you," Arthur smiled as they reached the cash register, "It looks delicious. How much do I owe you?" he asked, stuttering over the words.

"How much do you have?" she asked.

"Five and...the last dollar is in change."

"Four. Your serving is on the house," she winked. "How are things going for you lately? I only hear about you when you're asking Allen for homework help. He wants you to read the books yourself, you know," she grinned.

"I know, and I will…," he murmured. He might as well attempt to, though he was sure that Francine would get in the way. "I'm doing okay. I'm looking forward to the summer."

"You should come back if you can. I know our prices can be a little high sometimes, especially for a demanding eater like her, but give us a try. I'll keep helping you out," she smiled, winking again. Arthur peeked behind the counter: They actually did have the bananas.

"You're too nice," Arthur smiled, taking the tray to the table Francine chose. It was carefully hidden in the corner, meaning only one side of the booth was highly visible. Francine chose the other one, giving them the privacy they needed to feed each other brownie bites and ice cream with romantic looks in their eyes.

"You're a good man, Arthur Reed," Francine smirked, whispering in his ear. She nibbled it seductively, pulling away with a crazy smile on her face.

"What's that about?" he asked. She glanced down, making sure her magic was working. She looked back up: Arthur realized what she meant. "I don't have any protection," he whispered fiercely. His father had given him "The Talk" shortly after he started dating Francine. He took it to heart, even though his old man would buy him any protection: He'd have to do it himself, but he was too nervous to do it, so he never did, thinking he didn't need it.

"I'm on the pill; It's okay," she replied with a smile. Apparently he didn't need it.

A few minutes later, they were in a private area downtown near the ice cream shop. Francine was still in her bikini, making quick work of it all. Arthur slipped off his trunks, and Francine squealed in delight.

"You didn't tell me you have an anaconda down there. Come here, you!" she grinned. Only her cover-up was on now, and she easily mounted him.

The sensation of Francine's vagina made Arthur cum immediately. He'd never felt such an amazing sensation on his penis, not even when he discovered lotion. It was warm and succulent, much like a rich homemade pudding.

"Keep going. You'll get hard again," Francine said, pumping her hips. Arthur fell back against the wall, and they soon had to switch so that his back wouldn't be scraped to death, not like he cared.

He pumped his hips awkwardly, but he soon got the hang of it. He listened to Francine's quiet moans as they merged with his. His dick became hard again, just on time with Francine's raised nipples. He'd never seen her breasts so beautiful, and he buried his face in them. He gently sucked on the right one, making her quicker against the wall. He pumped harder as her left hand cupped his bare butt cheek, urging him to keep going.

"Oh-my-god," he moaned. Suddenly his penis exploding again, sending a large load of semen into the eager Francine. She had came herself, a wet sensation hitting the tip of his penis, covering it as he gave her one last pump.

The two dismounted, panting and giving each other star-struck looks. They redressed slowly, flirting with each other as they did. They returned to Francine's apartment, making out at the entrance to the building and nearly having sex again right there in the lobby.

"See you tomorrow, Romeo," Francine grinned, leaving Arthur with one final kiss and a firm yet gentle squeeze of his balls. He grew hard again, and Francine gave him a quick handy, careful to keep them both hidden as Arthur received the jerk of his life.

When it was over, he realized he had cum on her hand. He began to apologize, but she shook her head. She licked it off, walking away seductively.

Arthur could barely make it home he was so tired. Who knew that sex could be so exhausting?

Muffy looked through the garments, carefully pushing the button to the carousel in her closet, pausing every now and then to handle the fabric. Half of the dresses were too small now, and she really needed some new shoes due to a growth spurt in her feet. Baily added these to the list: He was watching her from an armchair placed discretely in the corner. When Muffy's mom was around, she'd sit in the chair, carefully helping her daughter decide which dress to wear to the formal events, which outfit was best for shopping...and what to wear to court.

The first divorce hearing was the Tuesday after Memorial Day, better known as D-Day to Muffy: Divorce Day. The first day was done now, all thanks to a heated argument between the two sides. Dad wanted all of the money and the estate, stating he built it and he should be allowed to have it back. Mom wanted her happiness back, but since he couldn't provide it, she should have the estate and half of his assets, just like he promised in the prenup.

Muffy had no idea what was going on, but she knew it wasn't a good thing. It ended with both sides being asked to calm down or they'd end up with a contempt of court charge (Muffy wondered if that was like charging a mink coat). Their lawyers agreed to be the only ones present at the next hearing in two weeks. Muffy sighed: Whatever happened was out of her hands anyway.

"Do you need to sit down, Miss? You're swooning again," Baily said. His firm forearm was the only thing holding her up. Muffy regained her balance, shaking her head and looking back to the carousel.

"Are we going to lose all of our money? I really need a new wardrobe, and I'm not just saying that because these clothes are out of date: They simply don't fit anymore."

"Miss, I do not understand the affairs of your feuding parents. I suspect you'll be well taken care of no matter who gets what."

"Will I get to stay here?"

"You're old enough to stay where you please, Miss. The court may ask for you to testify, and they'll allow you to go to the parent you choose to stay with. I expect you'll choose the one who gets the estate?" Baily guessed. Muffy nodded, sitting carefully on a nearby stool. Bailey usually sat on it to help her with her shoes, but it was the closest available seat at the moment. Baily almost switched with her, but she refused.

"My friends say their parents have married and divorced many times, and if they're still together, they're always fighting about affairs and business trips. They say I'm lucky they lasted this long, but...I don't understand. They were so happy before Daddy had to sell the business and buy into that mining operation in Tibet. He made it all back, but all those business trips…. I thought he'd leave and never come back. I guess I was right," she said sadly.

"He still loves you, Muffy," Baily said sternly. Muffy looked up, nodding with understanding.

"I know they love me, but I'm not the center of attention anymore. I'm not being selfish, but neither of them ever call unless they want to say something bad about the other person. I'm just the run-around girl, the person who has to run around and do things for them. I'm done with that!" Muffy spat, standing up and looking back to the carousel. "I'll pull out the ones that are too small. Do you mind donating them or something?"

"Yes, Miss," he replied.

The pile grew and grew, but Muffy's expression never changed. After thanking Baily, she moved back to her room, curling up on the bed and losing herself in her smart phone.

George regretted his decision immediately. Even his own camp mates were completely against him now.

When Ranger Steve came into their cabin to turn out the lights, George went outside with him, his things with him. Ranger Steve sighed: He'd heard the boys taunting him during dinner, and he knew George would want to leave again. He didn't even try to stop him this time.

"I'll take you back tonight. Go wait for me in the main cabin, okay?" Ranger Steve said solemnly. George obeyed.

The main cabin smelled funny to George, and strange moaning sounds were coming from the storage closet. A few minutes later they stopped, and the lead camper emerged, his dummy case beside him. He looked highly flustered as he quickly escaped the room. Moments later, one of the older camp directors emerged. He flushed immediately.

"May I help you?"

"Ranger Steve is going to take me home," George replied.

"Don't tell him about this, okay? He's not of-never mind. Just keep this between us, alright?" he said. George nodded, but he refused to shake his hand. He figured out what was going on, and he wanted no part of it.

A few minutes later, after the director had left, Ranger Steve arrived, car keys in hand. He looked exhausted, but George didn't want to argue with the man: He really wanted to go home before things got any worse, if they could get any worse.

Once in the vehicle, Ranger Steve helped him buckle his seat belt. After making sure things were situated, they left the camp grounds for the nearby state route.

"I called your parents from my cabin. They're going to meet me halfway, somewhat. Neither one could come right away, so we'll have to wait a little while. We might even be able to get some sleep while we wait."

"Why can't they come?" George asked. His mind instantly went to their entire family: Which of them was dying or dead this time?

"They didn't want me to tell you because you've been through enough, but...your uncle is sick. He's not dying or anything: They were just visiting him tonight a few hours away. Your mom is staying with family up there, and your dad is coming to get you. You'll both go home, he said."

"Oh. He's been sick before. He'll be alright."

"They said not that one, the other one," Ranger Steve sighed. "Listen, I'm sorry about this whole summer, kid. Things'll get better for you, but it's going to take some time."

"I know. I'll get used to it. I always do," George murmured.

"Try to stay positive," Ranger Steve smiled, patting his knee in a friendly way. He almost patted George's shoulder, but that was the arm he hurt, so he knew better. "Do you want to listen to the radio?"

"No thanks," George replied, looking out the window. There wasn't anything to look at because of the night, but it was better than staring at the car's interior.

George dosed off during the trip. He was starting to dream when the car jerked suddenly, jolting him away.

The car was rolling down an embankment. George shrieked, trying his best to stay calm, but as they hit the bottom painfully hard, he couldn't stop screaming: Ranger Steve wasn't beside him anymore and there was a gaping hole in the windshield.

The car rolled a little more, and the one headlight that wasn't broken showed Ranger Steve laying on the cavern's floor. George carefully exited the car, then he ran towards him.

"Ranger Steve! Ranger Steve?" George asked. The man moaned, saying something. George leaned in closer.

"There's a cell phone in the dash. See if it works," he said so quietly that George barely heard what he was saying.

But George did as he was told.

Sadly, the phone didn't work. He grabbed the first aid kit instead. Ranger Steve grinned at him.

"Son, that won't help me. Listen, you need to go back….," he paused to groan and wince with the pain, "...back to the road. Climb up the ridge. Use the rope in the back. Someone will come by eventually and...take us out of here. Go. If you take too long it'll be too late."

"But I shouldn't leave you!"

"You have to, George, or I will die," he hissed, wincing again.

George found the rope in the back of the car. He didn't know how he'd climb the steep mountainside and get to the top, but he was going to try.

Fern looked at her wall of binders. Each one was labeled with its start date, finish date, and the page numbers for the start and finish of each month of work. She was crazy about word counts: Her goal was 100,000 a month, 1,200,000 words a year, and she had reached it the year before. Now she was trying again: She was ahead by sixty thousand words, but that wouldn't stop her from reaching the 100 every month.

Her pen ran out of ink, and she carefully found another to replace it. She began to write.

She went pale, and sweat beads formed on her forehead. She groaned, tossing her pen down.

"Why can't I do it anymore?!" she cried, putting her head down on the desktop, careful not to get the ink on her forehead.

Writer's block had been hitting her recently, ever since she saw Sue Ellen in the paper store. 'Why did she have to question my methods? I've never questioned hers,' Fern thought angrily, slamming her hand onto the desk. It burned, and Fern immediately regretted her decision.

"I hate them all!" Fern shrieked, pushing away from her desk. The chair rolled to the window, and she stared out it without seeing anything: She was blinded by rage.

Fern had started hating people when they started questioning her about her writing. Only a handful of people had never questioned her, and Brain was one of them. With his being at NASA camp interrupting his usual internet time, she hadn't received valid feedback since the first week of summer. She needed that feedback, she thought, and she couldn't wait for him to return.

But everyone else could go to hell as far as she was concerned. They question her and question her, and they steal her pens and paper and binder. They steal her pages, posting them for all to see, "LOOK AT THIS PIECE OF SHIT!" splattered across their faces.

She knew what she had to do. She wrote them all into her next mystery, an unsolvable one, it seemed. She murdered them brutally, every last one of them. Blood spilled across many pages. Her writers block was gone and so was the most of her anger.

"Why didn't you read the letter from your mother?"

Buster refused to answer. He knew exactly why, so why should Buster have to spell it out every time she called or sent a letter?

"Well, I won't bother you again, but...she wants you to visit her mother, and I say that's not a bad idea. You're doing better with the bills and all, but I think you'd like having a permanent home for a few months at least. And she could use your help around the house."

"Will Mom be dropping by?"

"She'd have to take you th-"

"Then I'd rather not go," Buster interrupted.

"Buster, you need to put this behind you. Your mother and stepfather are happy together, and you need to just-"

"I thought I told you what happened!" Buster shrieked. His father stepped back for a moment. He sighed, shaking his head. "He beat me, Dad! And she let him! She ignored me, saying he could never do such a thing! I'm never going back, NEVER!"

"Now that you've got that out of your system, let's keep it down for the other patrons," his father whispered. "But...I can't do anything now. There's no evidence for the police, just your word against his, and while I believe you," he said sternly and louder, keeping Buster from interrupting, "there is nothing I can do for you now. But...I will protect you.

"The airline has a car service. I'll see who is headed in her direction on your arrival date. She has a neighbor who could pick you up, or your uncle might. And I'll tell your mother to keep away."

"Thanks, Dad," Buster said, accepting a hug from him. It felt so good to be believed, and he was almost in tears from happiness. "Can I get a McDoodles burger for dinner?"

"Make it a Big McDoodle, two of them. I'm feeling hungry," he smiled, handing him a twenty and sending him on his way.

Prunella looked over the floor, trying to spot the friendliest patrons. Her supervisors warned her of the people to stay away from, and she carefully avoided those rooms on her way across the room.

The nursing home wasn't where Prunella wanted to spend her summer, but her mother insisted, thanks to a fortune telling session that went horribly wrong. The only good part was the love affair it mentioned, which could mean a date for prom in a year's time. Who knows, if he's old enough, she might be able to go this year.

Unfortunately, she was still too close with her younger friends. The year apart from them while they finished middle school helped a little, just like it did when they were in fifth grade and she was in sixth. But she was still finding them everywhere, having nice conversations with them before they'd head in their own directions. She never did that with friends her own age, or the older ones, and she wondered if something was wrong with her.

"Ma'am can I get you some more ice?" Prunella asked. The woman was wearing a "hard of hearing" sticker on her shirt, so Prunella spoke extra loudly. The woman nodded, and she moved off to the supply room where the ice machine was.

The door opened behind her, and two orderlies came in. They were both quite handsome, and Prunella made sure she played it cool as she scooped the ice.

"I heard about that," the brunette said. They were mid-conversation, Prunella realized. "You'd never expect that if you'd see her sister."

"She has the mouth of a horse with the face of a hippo, that broad," the blonde laughed. Prunella grimaced: He was NOT for her. But she was curious about who they were talking about.

"What about that guy she seduced, that horse trainer?" the brunette asked.

"No, he seduced HER. He likes 'em young. I hear he nailed the younger one too. He's a miracle worker. I need his moves."

Prunella knew who they were talking about now. She quickly left the room and got back to the day, the gossip on her mind. The brunette was as well, but he never appeared again. She was glad for it: She didn't want to hear anything more about the people she thought she knew well. She hoped she was taking things out of context, but deep down, she knew that she was on the right track.