Disclaimer: I just noticed that the disclaimer should be for the not owning part, and the note should be where I rant on about stuff. Oh well. Anyways, continuing the great and depressing story of our good friend Cary! (Actually, we'll get to see some of the other boys too!)
Note: I do not own this movie. Excuse me while I go cry about it.
Chapter Three:
It was a warm day in Lillian, Ohio.
People were walking around the town, happily talking to friends, enjoying ice cream at the local parlor, and having all sorts of fun.
But, as there always is, there was an imperfection to this picture. The boy with the mouthful of braces, which this story has been focusing on, was sitting on his bed at home. His friends had invited him over to the diner where they always ate when they were together, but the boy had told them over the phone that he wasn't feeling well. So the other boys went to the diner without him, deciding that it was better for their friend to stay home.
In actuality, the boy was feeling just fine, for the most part. Yes, his body ached, but that wasn't why he wanted to stay home. He didn't want to deal with his friends emotionally. He was never one to cry, and always one to joke, and today he just wasn't feeling up to being the group's personal jester. He was tired, and weak from the previous night's beating. He didn't want his friends to see him like this, and thus, he didn't.
Now, this story has been focused on this metal-mouthed boy for a while, but I'm afraid that he didn't do anything very interesting that afternoon. So we'll be moving on to his friends at the diner. But before we leave, for my sake, let's call small boy with the braces and abusive parents Cary. So I don't have to keep coming up with creative ways to describe him without using his name.
Now, his group of friends consisted of four other teenage boys. They were all taller than he was, and none of them had braces like he did. As mentioned before, the boy was the group's jester, in a way. They all had a role in their group. One boy was incredibly intelligent, the nerd of the group. He was tall, and skinny, and had big ears covered by combed black hair. His name was Preston. Another boy was the least intelligent of the group, and also the most intolerant of things. He wore glasses and puked a lot, and was made fun of for his idiotic statements. This boy's name was Martin, or "Smartin" as the others liked to call him. The other two boys somewhat split the role of the leader. One was bossy, due to living in a household of eight or so kids. He was also teased for being overweight, but his doctor told him he would "lean out" eventually. His name was Charles. The other leader of the group was probably the happiest of the bunch. He had a caring mother and father, and no bad memories to speak of. He was always kind and caring to the others, and stood up for those in need. The boy's name was Joseph, but he went by Joe. So that was the group that Cary called his friends, and quite possibly his second family.
The group was at the diner, each of them eating their food happily. But the boy named Joe was concerned for his friend. Cary had never said no to coming to the diner before. Even when he had the measles, he had said yes. His parents of course, didn't allow him to go, but he had wanted to. Joe's concern was internal, but not too long after he put down his burger and asked the question on his mind.
"Do you think Cary's okay?" the question got mixed looks from his three friends. Charles shrugged, most likely because Cary had a tendency of making fun of his weight more than the other boys. Martin looked like he was deep in thought, which wasn't that deep in overall comparison, and Preston bit his lip.
"I don't know, Joe. He's never said no to a trip to the diner before." Preston replied.
"Yeah but he's sick. Right guys?" Martin asked. Joe looked again to Charles for an answer, but the boy shrugged again and continued to eat. Joe looked back at the confused Martin.
"I'm not sure Martin. I mean, he said he was sick, but I don't know…"
"I don't get it…?" Martin said. He was lost. Again. Preston sighed.
"He doesn't have a reason to be pretending he's sick, Joe. He probably isn't well, and we should leave it at that." Preston said logically. Joe nodded.
"Alright, but I'm gonna check on him later, okay? Make sure he's fine." Joe said. Charles snorted, and the trio looked at him. "What's so funny?" Joe asked.
"Why bother? Cary just doesn't want to be here, obviously. And I personally say, let him be. It's nice when no one's making fun of your weight." Charles said with an edge in his voice. Joe didn't like the harsh tone his friend was using, but he decided that arguing wasn't the best idea.
"Whatever. I'm still going to check though. You guys don't have to come."
"Mint. Well, I'm going to head home. It's my turn to babysit the twins." Charles said, leaving the booth. Preston nodded.
"I've got to get home too. My mom wanted me to read the first draft of her book." He said. He followed Charles out.
"Um…I gotta go too. My mom wants to take me shopping…" Martin said awkwardly. Joe nodded, and watched the last boy go out. He finished up the rest of his chocolate milkshake, and then left as well.
Joe hopped on his bike and began biking to Cary's house. It was beginning to get dark, and by the time he got to Cary's, it would probably be completely black outside. But the street lights would be on, and he didn't live too far from Cary's house, so he decided to check in on his friend.
Joe had met Cary's parents only once before, and they had seemed nice. He knew that they weren't the best parents in the world, but they were polite and everything when they dropped Cary off at his 5th birthday party. But since then, he hadn't seen or heard much from them. Or Cary, for that matter. Cary had become more introverted than ever. He talked less, joked less, and the smile on his face faltered every once in a while. Joe seemed to be the only one who noticed, or who cared, for that matter. The only thing that remained unchanged about Cary was his obsession with fire. Through everything that ever happened, the pyrotechnic stayed a pyrotechnic.
But Joe didn't know anything else about the fire. He didn't know why the fire had stayed when nothing else did. He didn't know how unhealthy his friend's obsession was, and how much harm Cary was causing himself.
Joe arrived at Cary's house shortly, and he had been right; the sky was completely dark now. Despite the darkness, he walked up to the front door, and rang the doorbell. He waited for a moment, and the door was opened by Cary's mother.
"Hi." Joe said. Cary's mother smiled.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Lamb?" she asked.
"I, uh, just wanted to see Cary." He told her. She nodded.
"Come on in, sweetie. He's upstairs and to the left." She said, pointing. Joe thanked her, and walked up the stairs. He peeked his head in the room, and saw Cary sitting on his bed. Cary looked panicked for a split second, but then he was calm. Joe noticed this, but ignored it.
"Hey, how are you?" Joe asked Cary.
"I'm doing fine…" he replied. Before he could continue, Cary burst into a coughing fit. Joe didn't buy it.
"You're not sick, are you." Joe said. He stated it as a fact, not as a question. Cary locked eyes with the other boy, and his façade was gone.
"No. I'm not." Cary agreed. Joe was about to say something, but Cary held up his hand. "But I am really tired, Joe. I haven't been getting much sleep." Cary said. Joe relaxed. He thought something was wrong with Cary, something worse than sickness, but that wasn't the case.
"Okay, well, I'm gonna go home now. Just wanted to check on you." Joe said. He began to leave the room when something got his attention. In the corner, there was a gray t-shirt on the floor. But it had a deep red splotch on it. Joe knew that Cary didn't have any shirts like that, and he feared that the splotch was someone's blood. Joe decided to ignore it for the time present. He would tell his parents when he got home, but arguing with Cary was a battle already lost. Cary was just too damn stubborn.
So Joe left his friend's house and biked home. This night was like the nights before; crickets chirping, cars parked in the driveways, and the only sounds around were of the occasional dog barking. Joe lived about a block or two away from Cary, and arrived home quickly. His mother and father were in the living room watching an old movie on the television.
"Hey Joe, how was everyone?" his father asked him.
"Good. Same old, same old." Joe replied. His father nodded in response, but his mother didn't buy it. Mothers have an extra sense or something, for knowing if something was wrong.
"Are you sure? What about Cary?" she asked him. Joe looked shocked.
"Cary, Cary didn't go…" he started.
"Why not?"
"He said he wasn't feeling good." Joe answered. His mother eyed him suspiciously, and Joe sighed. "So I went over to his house to check on him. He said he's just tired." Joe finished.
"Alright. Is that all?" his mother asked. Joe looked down at his feet. His parents had gotten off of the couch by now, and stood next to him. His mother put her hand gently on his chin, asking him to look her in the eye and answer without having to say a word. That's when Joe broke down.
"I'm worried about Cary, Mom." Joe spilled out. His eyes were beginning to water, and his mother hugged him and stroked his head. About a minute later, she knelt down so she was closer to his level.
"Now Joe, what are you worried about? There must be something specific." She said. His father looked at him as well, fearing that something could be going on that was larger than just being sick.
"I saw a shirt on his floor, and it looked like it had, b-blo-blood…"Joe muttered. His mother's mouth opened, and she looked to her husband, who had whipped out a notepad and pen. Mrs. Lamb looked at her son again.
"Joe, who's blood do you think it was? Did it look like his shirt, or someone else's?"
"It was his shirt, Mom. It didn't look like it because of all of the blood but, Mom I know it's his!" Joe said, breaking down again. He ran to his room, leaving his parents in shock.
"Do you think George and Judy are…" Mrs. Lamb started. But she was stopped because of the look on her husband's face. It was a confirming look. "Oh that poor boy…" she said, and she began to cry as well. Mr. Lamb let her sob into his shoulder, and he kept himself from sobbing as well. The Lamb family had known Cary since he was four or five. And even though Mr. Lamb disliked the boy's pyromaniac side, he still felt that Cary didn't deserve to be abused by anyone; especially his parents.
Cary was surprised that Joe came by. He wasn't expecting anyone to really notice that he had wanted to stay at home. But Joe did. But Cary had also seen the way that Joe had glimpsed at his shirt from last night. It had blood on it, which was one thing he wished Joe hadn't seen. His father is the deputy after all! In a weird way though, he was glad that Joe saw it. Maybe Cary just wanted it all to be over with, and someone to actually know what was going on. But Cary knew that snitching was for babies. And babies are the ones that get hurt.
So Cary tried to fall asleep, but failed due to worrying about what Joe did and didn't know. And Joe tried to fall asleep, but failed due to hearing his parents talking about child abuse in the other room, and worrying about Cary. So they stared at their ceilings, counted sheep, and hoped that tomorrow would be a better day.
