AN: Well, hi thar! Sorry these chapters are all so short. I'm best when writing at short bursts, hence why most of my fics here are drabbles. Let's wreck Matt's life!
AN (2): Thanks so much to Nyeh Creampuff, the first person to review/fave this story! Thank you! I hope you'll stay with me.
End of January
"You be good and listen to Mrs. Knowles," Mrs. Jeevas instructed, kissing Mail on the cheek. "We'll be back soon."
"But why can't I come with you to get Will's glasses checked?" Mail wondered. Unconsciously he touched the goggles that had adorned his head since Christmas. Mrs. Jeevas and Mrs. Knowles, the neighbor, shared a secret smile above Mail's head.
"Because," Mrs. Jeevas said, "it's going to be very boring, and," she went on more loudly, for Mail had begun to protest, "you haven't been feeling well. You need to stay home and recuperate."
"Aw, man," Mail grumbled. Mrs. Jeevas thanked Mrs. Knowles again, and the rest of the family waved goodbye as they headed, not to the optometrist for Will, but to the mall for Mail.
Mrs. Knowles distracted Mail with brownies and television, and artfully didn't mention anything at all about birthdays.
After Mail tired of television, Mrs. Knowles said that he might take apart a computer that she couldn't make work anymore. Mail delighted in taking things apart. He could usually put them back together, too. So he immersed himself in the machine, pulling out and sorting computer innards. As the afternoon edged on towards evening, Mrs. Knowles decided she'd better cook for them, just in case Mail's family didn't come back in time for dinner.
Night fell, and Mail had tired of playing with the computer. He'd taken it apart, put it back together, and then taken it apart and put it back together differently. He was bored. He started looking through Mrs. Knowles' books, and Mrs. Knowles began to fret to herself. Mrs. Jeevas had said they'd only be an hour or so. The older lady began to wonder if there had been an accident. Wordlessly, she served dinner, which for Mail, was hotdogs. He ate them with gusto.
After dinner, Mrs. Knowles excused herself to make a private phone call. She went upstairs and looked up the number for the mall. The person who answered promised to have the Jeevas family paged, but after ten minutes, no one in the mall had responded. Not knowing what else to do, Mrs. Knowles called the police station.
"I'm Hattie Knowles," she identified herself to the sergeant with whom she was speaking. "I'm sorry; I just don't know what to do, really. I'm watching the youngest son of my neighbors; they went out with their older boy hours ago and haven't come back. I can't reach them at the mall they said they'd be at; it's the younger one's birthday soon, you see."
"Alright, ma'am. Can you describe their car; the color, the make, the model, the year? Also descriptions of the family would be helpful."
Mrs. Knowles described the Jeevas family and their car, and the sergeant promised to call back within the hour, news or no. Mrs. Knowles thanked him and hung up, then went to put a reluctant Mail to bed. "They must've had a problem with Will's glasses," Mrs. Knowles invented when Mail asked after his family. "Go to sleep, duck, they'll be here in the morning." And she waited by the phone.
When it rang, she picked it up before it was completely through its first ring. "Hello?"
"Hattie Knowles?"
"Yes?"
"This is Sergeant Drake. We spoke earlier." He checked some details with her, and then hesitated. "I think you'd best come down to the station."
Mrs. Knowles' voice was a whisper. "What's happened?" she breathed.
"There's been an accident that matches your description of the car and family. Earlier tonight, we were called to the scene of a hit and run. It appears that a larger vehicle, perhaps an SUV, sideswiped a Merkur Scorpio, killing its three occupants. The other driver fled the scene. We'll…need you to identify the bodies."
"My god," Mrs. Knowles gasped. "I…but…I can't leave him…what if he wakes and I'm not here?"
"Are there any next of kin we should notify?"
"No…they never spoke of any family. They were both only children whose parents have already passed. Oh, my god, he's all alone!"
"You really should identify the bodies if you can, ma'am. It's the only way we can be sure. Otherwise, his family is missing and we'll have to start searching for them."
"I…okay. I'll run out quickly, then, shall I? Yes, I'll be right there."
At the police station, Mrs. Knowles sobbed as she identified the Jeevas family. "What's he going to do? He's got no family!" she wailed. Sergeant Drake promised to make some calls. Mrs. Knowles agreed to have the small family cremated. There was no one to pay for a funeral. "I'd best get back," she whispered some time later. "Oh, he's a good boy, and so smart, too! What's going to become of him?" And she hurried from the station so that Mail would at least have someone to wake up to.
"Smart?" mused the sergeant. He decided not to call the closest orphanage, opting instead for a number in London.
In the morning, Mrs. Knowles sat down with Mail and quietly explained to him that there had been an accident. He was a smart child; she saw no sense in lying to him. "They're in heaven, now," she choked, "watching over you." Mail said nothing, made no sound, but there were tears coursing down his cheeks. Ashamed, he pulled his goggles over his eyes to hide the tears.
Mail stayed at Mrs. Knowles' house for a few days, during which time a strange woman came to visit. She asked Mail a lot of questions, which Mrs. Knowles encouraged him to answer. He shrugged a lot and avoided eye contact. When she had gone, Mrs. Knowles helped Mail pack up things from his house. "Because wherever you end up, you'll want your own things," she explained.
By the end of the day, the strange lady returned, and Mrs. Knowles said goodbye. She helped put Mail in the car and hugged him goodbye. "You're going to be living in London, now," she told him.
During the car ride, Mail sat in silence and played on his Gameboy as the countryside swept past. He ignored all attempts at conversation. He didn't look up until the car stopped. The rep got out of the car and opened Mail's door for him. "Welcome to Wammy's House."
