And now Bart comes home. The reason I gave him another little sister is because I wanted to have loads of things for Bart to have missed out on, like her birth. I also kind of believe he's doomed to be surrounded by a family of girls, but I think he quite likes it really. :D
Now Bart was home, for good.
He'd been in so much distress after his encounter with Patrick that he'd made up his mind to leave there and then. He'd collected a few of his things together in a hurry, ran off of the school premises to the train station, and waited about an hour for a train to Springfield to appear.
During this time, the school had contacted his family, saying that he'd gone missing after a fight with an older boy. Eddie, Ron or John must have said something.
When Bart reached Springfield he'd caught a cab to his house, eyeing the concerned, balding driver with suspicion all the way. The poor guy had just said; "Look kid, you need help." And Bart had snapped "What would you know about it?"
Bart had expected to be slapped and shrieked at when he arrived at his house. It must have been a lingering paranoia from the attack, because he knew his mother wasn't the type to do that. Instead, when the front door opened, there was a sob, and then his mother grabbed him and hugged him hard. Then, there were more arms; his sister's, Lisa and Maggie, then Josie's squealing from the kitchen.
Bart burst into tears.
"Oh sweetie! Look at you! What did that boy do to you?" His mother shut the door behind him, led him into the kitchen and sat him down at the table.
"I-I'm okay… s'just… I'm tired," he sniveled into his hands.
"We've been so worried about you! You should have phoned us!" Lisa was teary-eyed as well, but was trying to be rational.
"Bah-Bah!" shrieked Josie from her highchair, knocking her doll to the floor.
"I know! I'm so sorry! I just. I HAD to get away from there!"
"Oh, my poor baby," Marge grabbed a jacket from the coat hanger by the door and put it around his shoulders "you're freezing!"
"Mom," said Bart, his voice suddenly very low and controlled.
"Yes, sweetie?"
"I am NOT going back to Tornstone. I don't care what you say this time. I have learned whatever lesson this stupid town wanted me to learn… if you send me back there again…" he trailed away, leaving the threat unspoken.
"No. No you're right. You've been there long enough. But we'll need to talk about this… later. Your father will be home soon. You need a bath… and you need to treat that lip." She stood and went upstairs.
Bart hadn't noticed Maggie disappear, but did notice her return with some antiseptic wipes.
"Thanks Mags," croaked Bart, "Come here." He pulled her into a hug. He smiled; "You look after me so well. You should have been my big sister, and Lisa… even Josie. I don't exactly set good examples, do I?"
"That place was never right for you," said Lisa, ruffling his hair as she walked past, "I haven't seen you smile properly in ages."
"Don't be stupid, Bart. You're a great role model… we just… learn from your mistakes," Maggie said, kindly.
"Really though, man," he said (she had no problem with this term of endearment) "I don't know how I've survived without all of you."
"You can survive anything, Bart," Maggie kissed his forehead then retrieved Josie's doll from the floor and stood up to give it back to her, "it's just a question of your happiness."
Bart smiled. Maggie was so articulate when it came to expressing herself. She was brilliant at language and literature, but knew she struggled at most subjects;
"Don't give up on your English though, Mags," he'd said once, "That's something that'll get you places. All I have is toilet humor."
Although now he'd proven to be reasonably articulate through Bessie.
Josie, in contrast to Maggie was a loud baby. She chattered away all the time, and was a severe girly-girl. She refused to wear pants, always dresses, and any hair ties had to match. Her hair was, like her siblings, blonde, but she was all curls like Marge, instead of her sisters 80's buoyancy, or her brother's spikes or her father's... nothing.
She'd been another accident, but a pleasant one. Even Homer hadn't been able to resist cuddling her to pieces when she was first born. Although like Bart and Lisa, she'd first begun addressing him as "Homer" instead of "daddy".
Bart had missed all the girls so much. None of them were taller than him; both Marge and Lisa were around his height. It was nice to be able to speak face to face in the fullest sense of the term.
Maggie readjusted the blue ribbon she still wore in her hair, brushed down her dungarees and went back to doing some homework.
Lisa dried off the last of the dishes in the sink and then seemed to realize something. "Bart, you've only got a little bag there, where's all the rest of your stuff?"
Bart rubbed his eyes; "Uh… I kinda left it there."
"So you don't have any clothes?"
"…No. Just my money and keys."
"I s'pose you could try to wear those," said Maggie, smiling.
"Well in that case," Lisa smiled and went upstairs, then returned with a bag. "I know it's not Christmas yet," she said, handing the bag to him, "But you're gonna need these. Your clothes are way too small anyway."
"I love you. So much," said Bart, as he pulled out two red shirts, a pair of jeans and a grey jacket.
"People tend to," Lisa nodded in exaggeration.
Bart laughed.
After a long bath, during which his mother rung everyone to say that Bart was fine and that he was quitting Tornstone, Bart lay on his bed. He remembered a line from the book The Handmaid's Tale that he'd once had to study; "Nothing takes place in the bed but sleep; or no sleep."
At the time, he'd found the book too depressing and difficult to get through, but with what he'd been through he could write a good seven pages on it. He knew he'd never actually had sex in the fullest sense of the term with either gender, and hadn't suffered nearly as much as some people but still, the quote felt… recognizable to him. A bed. Just for him. No one else had any access to it. It was just for sleeping, not for a good feel-up session or a single, illicit sexual encounter. No one had "rights" to him.
But still, an odd feeling of guilt welled up inside him.
He should have just pushed Patrick away when it first started. It was clear the older boy had a delicate mind that was also unstable and he should have just gently told him he wasn't gay.
Even though he really, really was.
And now… he'd be back at Springfield Elementary, with all his determinately 'not-gay' classmates.
No.
Not Springfield Elementary.
Springfield High.
"Oh God," whispered Bart, bringing his hands to his face. And he'd been so ready to go back to something familiar.
It would be starting something new and awkward all over again. He hoped Milhouse would still hang out with him. He hoped that because Tornstone was practically unheard of, no one would think him snobbish.
Bart heard the sound of breaking glass and a belch that marked his father's arrival, so rolled over and sat up. Once he was downstairs, he found Homer in the lounge.
"Hey Homer," he said, quietly.
"Hello so-… Hey, you're short!"
"And you're fat, dad."
"Why thank-… WHY YOU LITTLE!"
Marge called from the kitchen; "Don't you dare, Homer! He was beaten up today!"
Homer's hands, which were outstretched, dropped, and he sat back on the couch.
"Beaten up? Who beat you up?" he said, indignantly.
"Just… this guy," said Bart, nervously, bringing his hands down from his defensive position.
Homer nodded, as though that answered everything; "And what did you do afterward?"
Bart blushed; "I ran."
"That's my boy," said Homer, and reached up to hug him.
