Number 2! I own nought...
Dude 13: Thanks hun! I woanna see where i go too... just kind of going along with it!
Lucyrocks73: Thanks for the really good reveiw! I'll follow it!
Tailsie: No, he's not bulimic, throwing up and loosing weight BIG TIME is a sign of leukemia! hes a little young for bulimea, anyway, i'd say...
And now, for the second chappy!
Goo smiled toothily to herself, and, kicking her legs up, stretched to touch the clouds with a naked foot. The swing brought her flying back, whipping herself in the face with her own dreadlocks, that flew back behind her shoulders as she swung forward again with the force of a demolition ball, laughing all the way.
She loved playing in the garden barefoot, she loved to feel the grass between her feet prickle against her toes and scraping off the smears of green on her knees when she fell. The swing brought her back again, the sunlight blinding her, making her eyes squint into two tiny black seeds as she felt a force behind her back, pushing the swing forward. Realising who it was, she leapt off at the highest point, whooping as she landed flawlessly, almost cat- like, on the lawn.
Mac gulped as he watched the girl race toward him, and with a feline like pounce, wrapped her arms ecstatically around his chest in a huge bear hug. Normally, she would hold that pose for what felt like an eternity, squeezing him as though he was an orange, until Mac was forced to hug her back to prise her away, but this time was different. Still holding him, she loosened her grip and stopped hugging, a look of worry flashed across her face. Then she realised; He was choking. Honestly, truthfully choking, as though he wouldn't breath again.
With a shrill yelp, she dropped him like a hot iron, allowing the boy some space to catch his breath. Concern flashed across her eyes, and smiling with innocent worry she leapt down on her knees in front of the doubled up and gasping child, looking up at his face with all the innocence of a cherub. Mac felt his face hot up; must be the chokes.
"Mac, you don't look so good… has you mom taken you to a doctor's yet cos when I was little my mom, she's called Barbara, took me to the doctors and he said I had tonsillitis and then I had to go to the hospital and have them taken out, and…"
Mac clasped his palm quickly over the girl's mouth, who cheerfully carried on absent- mindedly rambling into it, her warm breath sending droplets of moisture into the creases of the boys hand.
"Hey Goo… ready… to go… to Foster's?" Mac gasped between breaths, and Goo stopped talking. Well, For the second anyway.
The nine year old blinked as she scanned his face, their noses almost touching into an Eskimo kiss as her eyes darted about his face, picking out little details that held all the signs of illness.
His eyes looked like two chestnuts drowning in sour milk, each one laden with dark grey suitcases under them. His lips were thin and cracked with white lines, looking like a line of blood on snow. However, the blood lips were curled up into a worn out smile, like a ray of sunshine fighting through a thick black cloud.
Goo gulped, and brought her hand up to her mouth in disbelief. For once, when she tried to talk, nothing came out.
"C'mon, Mac,"
"No,"
"Just a peek,"
"No way am I coming out,"
Bloo groaned and whacked his forehead against the antique mahogany door in frustration.
The blue blob loved this game. Spin the bottle was probably one of the greatest games ever invented; it was an excuse to see Mac do ridiculous things. His creator couldn't ever refuse. Bloo had proven himself on many occasions that he could be very persuasive, and this occasion was no exception.
"C'mooooooooon Mac, just one iddie widdy peeky weeeeeeeeeek……" He drawled into the wood grain, wrinkling his 'nose' when he smelt the decaying paint. It high time Frankie got the paint can out, but not even he had the courage to tell her. Not in the mood she woke up with this morning. And thinking about Frankie, right on cue…
"Bloo, why is the broom cupboard door locked? I need to get in there to get the vacuum… Herrimans on the warpath already with the playroom disaster…" A young woman with a shock of fiery red hair tied into a ponytail narrowed two bright blue eyes at the blob, who put his hands on his hips in defiance.
"Isn't it obvious?" Bloo sighed as though explaining something to a difficult three year old. Frankie shook her head, the trickles of claret hair framing her face shaking wildly.
"Mac is in there cos him, me and Goo are playing spin the bottle and I dared him to put on one of Madame Fosters dresses. He went in there to put it on,"
Frankie was silent for a second, her eyes sliding from the blue mischief maker in front of her to the door… and what was behind it. After a second she shrugged and wiped an itch on her nose.
"Whatever… can you get him out here before Herriman…" The red head reached for the doorknob…
"Miss Frances!"
The tinny intercom rattled persistently with the familiar accent of their 'beloved' head of house, Mr Herriman, a large 6 foot anal retentive rabbit, who reminded Frankie of Peter Rabbit with a carrot shoved up his ass. The lanky female groaned and hid her head in her hand as the intercom bled out more orders like water from a tap.
"Miss Francis! After you have finished your job in the Playroom properly, I must insist you come to my office for a very important discussion,"
"…Moans again," Frankie groaned, her ponytail bouncing as her hands dropped to the side, her face an expression of irritation. With a deep sigh, the girl wiped her copper bangs from her eyes and beat on the door with clenched fists.
"Mac! Open this door NOW! Herrimans gonna go Watership Down on my ass if I don't do this job!"
No answer. Frankie bit her lip at the silence. She coughed, and banged again.
"Mac, come ON! You've half an hour already!" Bloo yelled with her, turning the locked knob furiously.
"Mac? Come on, this isn't funny… Mac?" The lanky girl half scolded, half whispered into the door, a quaver. She could feel her cheek almost becoming embedded in the doorframe's fancy carvings as Bloo squinted his eyes through a shiny bronze keyhole underneath the glass doorknob, and let out a tiny whimper.
"I think something's wrong with Mac…" he gulped eventually. His body shook, his eyes darting madly from the freckled face of the twenty two year old to the keyhole.
"What?" Frankie's pupils dilated in fear as she pushed Bloo aside and squinted in. From the light of a high window, amongst countless brooms and buckets and a messed up dress, she could see a small body… and it was violently juddering.
"Oh my god, I think he's having a fit!"