Mike had been gone for several hours when we all started to get worried. Even Raph was worried, though he just went into his room and turned on his stereo at top volume and pretended to be mad instead. Me, well, I sort of get mad when I'm worried. And then I have to do something. So I went walking the sewers myself.
But when I ran into him at last, I got even more worried. Mike was slumped up against the wall. One hand held a flashlight. The bulb wasn't on though, either he'd turned it off or it had simply burned out. The other held a worn looking book, which Mike was staring at.
And Mike with a book, especially a book that thick, is unusual enough to incite comment in and of itself.
So I curbed my, "where have you been," demands and asked instead, "Mikey? Are you okay? We've all been worried about you."
Mike shoved the book into his belt. "Oh yeah. Fine dude. Stellar. Rockin' on. Lets go home." He recited this whole litany in a monotone, but he started walking. In fact, he walked right past me. This was so unlike Mike that I was getting more alarmed by the second. I fell into step next to him.
"What's the book?" I asked.
"Oh that. Its a Bible. A friend gave it to me."
Which meant he'd been topside. Now don't get me wrong. I like going up there too. We've made some friends even, such as the Professor. To the displaced humans, a turtle isn't something to worry about. To them we're just other street people, other people who can't make it in the dominant society. But I don't like it when any of us go up there by ourselves, and neither does Master Splinter. He's resigned himself to the idea that we were going to go, but I know he felt better when we all went together.
As I was gearing up to deliver this speech, though, the rest of what he said hit me. "A Bible? Like...Jesus?" All that I knew about human religion came off of t.v. Some of what I saw was okay. There was this one show about a preacher's family and how they struggled through things together, and I liked that one. But then I saw t.v. evangelists and stuff and quickly changed the channels. I guess all of us want something to believe in. For me its bushido. We all want people to help us be better at what we believe, too. Sometimes I'm not so sure that I get bushido after all. And there's always going to be those that take advantage of our doubts and questions. Shredder did it to me once, and I really don't consider myself that gulliable.
"Yeah." Mike said. "Like that, dude."
"What was your friend's name?"
"Don't know."
"Do you wanna talk about it?"
Mikey just shook his head. He said, "I just want to put this in my room when we get back. Can you not mention this to the guys? Tell them that I went sewer surfing or something and the time got away from me. That you like, fussed at me like you'd normally do and that its all good now. Can you do that for me, bro?"
Whatever had happened had obviously hit him hard. "I can do that," I said slowly. I was rewarded by a very sincere, very grateful look. Sometimes we're all taken in by Mike's fun loving, immature facade. Most of the time we forget there's a very compassionate guy under all that...well, silliness. He's always hit the hardest by other people's pain. And when it happens all the silliness melts away, and there's like, this stranger underneath. But its not a bad stranger. Its someone I wouldn't mind getting to know someday, when he's done with needing to be loud and obnoxious. Someone maybe I can relate to, get closer to. The only one I can really talk to is Don, and well, with Don it seems like he's the only one all of us can really talk to, so I don't like to burden him.
We got home, and as promised Mikey melted into his room without a word to the others. I spun them the story he'd prepared for me. Don gave me a look which said very clearly he didn't believe it. Because Mike wasn't acting right for the sewer surfing story: that Mike would have laughed, joked, headed to the kitchen maybe to make a meal to make it up for us. Not disappeared into his room. But Raph simply accepted it and grumbled. "Well what do I care anyway? He's a big turtle. He can go wherever he wants to go. I don't care."
Then he went into the kitchen and began slamming cabinets around, cooking the meal Mikey would have cooked us, which made me wonder if maybe he hadn't picked up on the fact that something wasn't right too.
And Master Splinter? He just lifted an eyebrow at me until I had to drop my head, and then nodded, slowly.
I always have been a lousy liar.
Author's Notes: This story is going to cycle through all four points of view throughout.
Ramica: Thank you very much for the encouraging review! I'll keep the chapters coming.