Second Chapter! I hope you enjoy it! Reviews very welcome and constructive criticism welcome.
I do not own Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends.
Mac and Frankie turned out of the grounds and to the Foster's Bus, parked out front. It stood starkly and vividly against the concrete grey of the city, its psychedelic paintjob hand worked by the resident's of the home several years ago, but just as vibrant as if it were done yesterday. She placed her hand gently on Mac's back as she opened the sliding doors, and assisted him into one of the chairs.
"Thanks Frankie, but honestly you don't have to do this!" Mac insisted, looking at her with a knowledgeable frown. Frankie giggled at the little adult before her.
"Mac, you know me. I just wanna make sure you're ok," She smiled, making her way down to the driver's seat. Placing her key in the ignition and putting the bus in gear, the vehicle started to chug away as she pulled out into the road.
After a few minutes of driving along in relative silence, the bus soon found itself in a queue of traffic, backed up from a set of red stop signs. Frankie squinted her eyes at the situation and sighed in frustration. Still holding onto the wheel, she inclined her head to check on her passenger.
"Hey, buddy, you ok?"
"Mumble...stop...mumble..."
"What was that?" Frankie leaned back and peered further over her shoulder, seeing Mac looking slightly worse for wear. "Hey... what's up?"
"Mummmmble... Stop... bus... Gonna..." Mac slurred. His arms were crossed over his stomach, his face hidden from view behind his thick sienna hair. He felt a bead of sweat beginning to trickle down his forehead.
"Gonna what? Mac?" Frankie looked up, and noticed the traffic was beginning to move. She put the bus into gear and started to pull away.
"GONNA BE SICK!" Mac gasped. "LIKE NOW!"
This snapped Frankie into action. Acting entirely on instinct, she grabbed the wheel and screamed over onto side of the pavement, cutting up a lane in the process. Cars screeched behind her, and the drivers were hanging out of their windows, waving their fists and yelling obscenities as they passed by, asking for insurance details and telling her to get "stuffed".
But Frankie wasted no time on them. She leapt up, and in one swift motion she grabbed a paper sick bowl from the cabinet containing basic medical supplies and flew to the child behind her. And not a moment too soon. The second the bowl was under his chin, Mac let rip, emptying his stomach to what he felt like three years worth of meals.
Frankie rubbed his back and held his hair to one side. She had dealt with travel sickness a lot over the years, and silently thanked the inspectors who had insisted on a supply cabinet in the bus. Feeling like he was nearly finished, Mac breathed deeply and sat up again, his vision swimming in front of him.
"Feeling better now?" Frankie smiled gently at her charge. His face was red with effort, and traces of vomit snaked down his nose and chin. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out a tissue and proceeded to wipe away the mess. Mac didn't fight it; he felt far too weak. It was easier to let the woman fuss over him than argue. And anyway, he felt so embarrassed at this he didn't even feel like moving. But Frankie had other plans.
"Come on kiddo," She helped him to his feet. "Let's get you some air,"
Still holding the bowl and his face contorted into a mixture of shame and nausea, he felt himself being guided off the bus and helped onto the grassy verge. The air around him slapped his cheeks and instantly he felt himself cooling down, and felt a wave of relief.
"There... that's better isn't it? Let's sit down and calm for a few moments," She sat down onto the verge, the grass pricking her though her skirt and onto her legs. Taking the bowl from him, Mac sat tentatively next to her, averting his eyes from her concerned and kind face.
A few moments of quietness passed, broken only by the occasional hiccough and retch, of which Frankie would put the bowl under his chin, only for him to spit out the few remaining parts of his bout of sickness. After about two minutes, Frankie spoke.
"You know," She sighed. "I've never seen you travel sick before," She looked into his face. In the cold light of the day and after the drama had unfolded, she noticed that the child was not right. His face, normally plump with the vitality of youth was slightly sunken in, and his eyes looked tired and shadowed. Her eyes travelled down to his arms and hands. She frowned as she noticed the corner of a yellow-green shape just poking from under his sleeve.
"Let me see that bruise, Mac," She took his hand, rolled up the long sleeve and her eyes widened in surprise. The blemish was larger than she thought, snaking angrily up to his elbow and coloured a sickly looking yellow, spattered with brown marks. Frankie Foster was shocked. No, she was horrified.
"Where in the world did you get THAT?" She gasped, still staring at it. Mac wrenched it away and covered it up, his face hidden by his bangs. He bit his lip.
"Nothing, it's nothing. I-I... I fell off my bike the other day. It's stayed like that since,"
"Mac, do I look dumb to you? I know kids get bruises but come on. You say this happened by falling off your bike?"
"Yeah Frankie! Jeeze, what's the big deal? I've had bruises before and you never freaked out like this!" Mac snapped at her, looking up in anger and frustration.
"Did Terrence do it?"
"NO!"
Frankie sighed and pinched the area between her eyes. When she turned to look back at him, her face was serious.
"Mac, I've worked for a long, long time as a carer for imaginary friends. I know when something's not right, whether it be their creators mistreating them, to when they're sick. Now, I've noticed something with you today Mac... scratch that, this week I've noticed something wrong with you," Frankie took his shoulders in her hands.
"Mac, you've been coughing all week. It hasn't got any better, it's got worse. At first I thought you were pushing yourself too hard. Now today you complain of a headache, and you throw up all over the bus. And now there's this bruise." She pointed to his arm, and Mac's hand shot over it in defence. "Mac, we need to get you to a doctor,"
"When?" Mac looked up at the woman next to him in trepidation.
"NOW," She got to her feet and pulled him up next to her. "We're going right now,"
