The next two hours were a large blur, and once things were at rest, and nothing was happening, Brad recalled himself being on his bed, and it was almost 8 O-clock PM.

All of that day had been messed up, he couldn't recall much, but somehow he noticed that he had his backpack, and his crutches, but for some reason, they both were ripped, and crushed. His backpack looked like it had been thrown into a river. It didn't make seance.

Than he remembered. Bolt was there, he was upset at himself. He hadn't seen him after that.

He remembered the sound of the doorbell, and his old man reaching through the door, and grabbing his stuff. He heard a voice say, "I'm sorry" before the door closed. But, right before...he could see something crawl into the house from outside. Brad remembered faintly, but he could see it. A white canine, looked up at him, and then settled itself on the other side of the room, on that couch.

He didn't hear a single complaint from his parents. He had seen that canine in all the blurry memories of that day, he always noticed that dog, somewhere in the background of his vision, every time he remembered anything. His parents were giving him a long lecture, he could only recognize a few words. "Don't", "Do," and "that". and when they left the room, they made no complaint about a creature resting on the couch.

The memories were there, but his mind had never been so jumbled before. It didn't make seance, but he slapped himself, clearing his head, of all those thoughts, and he began again to think clearly. He remembered his name, the alphabet, his birthday, nothing harmful had been done to him. he also remembered that one night that the dog first came into his life. The day things began to change.

Brad got out of his bed, and walked over to his backpack, turning on a near lamp, that lit up the room just barely, but still was very dim. Just as he felt a lump in his throat, he turned his head, but was only facing a wall. That wasn't the case because he knew his furry stranger was in the room.

"You feeling better?" he asked, not knowing where he was, but he got an answer.

"It's not a problem." The tone was mildly disturbed, but Brad nodded, reaching from his backpack a sheet of dripping paper.

"I see." He cocked an eyebrow. The sheet of paper was the math homework with adding and subtracting fractions. He rolled his eyes, and stood up, as his backpack fell over, and out spilled another sheet of paper, this one was a note. One from that group of kids.

Bolt spoke. "That's too bad." He sounded annoyed now, and Brad still had no clue where his voice was coming from, unless it was behind him, which seemed logical enough.

"How did this happen?" He asked "You were there weren't you?"

He could feel Bolt's senses tense up. "Well, no. I just saw the man open his door, walk out of his car, and he took your bag from a well. I have no clue how it got there, but he probably ran over your stilts there." He knew he was talking abut the crutches.

"Crutches." Brad corrected. "They...ha-ha, they do look that way." He looked again at them, smiling, and pleased to know he won't be using them any time soon. But his smile faded. "Hey, Bolt?"

He stroke some attention, at least he could feel that Bolt was listening. How could he feel Bolt's senses? He still had no idea why this all worked the way it does, but it was interesting, and strange.

He gulped, as he slowly gathered the wet papers. "How... how come my parents don't car you're here?"

Bolt seemed to understand, as if he'd been waiting for brad to notice. "It's not that they don't care."

Brad was confused, but nodded again. "They can't see you, can they?"

That seemed to drain all of Bolt's remaining happiness. "No one can, actually." He sounded upset, something that was now bugging Brad. He knew that if Bolt was trying to hide his feelings, he wasn't very good at it.

He sighed hoping that his next comment would sound somewhat sympathetic. "I see."

He stood up and opened the door, heading to the bathroom, in there he got the hair dryer, and began to blow the papers dry.

Bolt didn't seem very active. Brad couldn't feel many emotions, as if Bolt's feelings were erased like a blank chalkboard. It wasn't making Brad feel any better.

Soon, after the silence was over, Brad had dry papers again. Even though most of the pages were smeared with black ink, he knew it couldn't have been better. With that positive note he began to work on them. You see, Brad isn't that kind of kid who doesn't do homework. He treats it like vegetables. It's good for you, and just for that reason weather he likes it or not, he just does it. For the most part he didn't seem to like it much, but it felt good doing the work, it made him feel like life was still normal. He laid on his stomach and with a binder under his worksheets, he did the work, which he still knew most of the answers to. What do you know?

That was about the time when Bolt walked into the room. He smiled at Brad, which was interesting, and he had no clue why.

"You like school?" He asked.

Brad shook his head, his eyes still on his paper. "Not really." He looked up. "It's just the work I do to get good grades in class."

Bolt reclined in front of him, about a foot in front of him, and he looked down at the papers, as if they were a token to his past. And surprisingly, he said something similar to that. "Ya, know. Penny, always loved to do school work. Her favorite topic was art."

Brad couldn't believe that bolt was talking to him still. He had hated him just earlier, and was now talking as if they were best buds. It was almost as if he had dropped his upset feelings completely all just to talk to Brad like an equal, which enlightened Brad's mood as well. "She's a cool girl." his eyes on the paper still, but it was hard to concentrate now. "I wish I could have met her."

Bolt seemed to have gotten defensive on that one, because he seemed to shrug. "Well, that would have been nice." Now he was hiding his feelings. Brad wished he hadn't said anything.

Brad's mind was processing harder on the paper, but decided to take the awkwardness out of the conversation. "You guys seem really close."

That didn't seem to make anything better, Brad felt Bolt's emotions intensify more. "Yeah, we were quite...um, close. Me and her. It's not something I go around bragging, and yelling to the world."

"Okay, I'm sorry." Brad knew that probably wouldn't help much, but Bolt soothed.

"It's alright. You're fine." He seemed to be speaking his feelings now, hoping that Brad didn't feel bad for accidentally offending him.

He stood up and looked down at the papers. Than he paced around the room for a while.

Brad wondered if Bolt was able to hide some feelings from him. He wondered if he knew about that odd link or why his parents couldn't see him, or if anyone else can. He wondered if Bolt could feel HIS feelings just as much. Or how he had caused that accident even though no one can see him.

Besides all of these questionable feelings he also felt guilty. Just for saying what he said, and for always pushing Bolt away. Bolt must have been very sensitive when he talked about home, but he was the one who brought it up in the first place, so that was another confusing fact. By this time, Brad was sure that Bolt still had a grudge on him, which didn't feel good. Just like the difference between the time when you're yelled at by an adult, and how much it's rude, but you don't feel as offended then if it's a small child, saying they hate you. It seems like the largest insult, and it's almost a permanent hate when coming from them. What we all might call the ultimate rejection to ever liking you again, if they ever had. The same went for animals, and Brad was worried that Bolt was still mad at him. The feeling wasn't a feeling you'd want to have. It was too much to handle knowing that you are on the 'hatred' list of a child, or an animal.

Brad wasn't in the mood anymore, he had just been degraded by a dog. Whether Bolt knew it or not, Brad's personal feelings were hurt. This making the homework in front of him as hard as trying to cut down a tree with a plastic spoon.

He sighed, and turned around, Bolt wasn't in sight. He still decided to say it. "Hey, um...buddy?"

Bolt didn't answer. Maybe he didn't think Brad was referring to him as 'buddy'. Bradly sighed, "I um, owe you an apology."

Brad felt Bolt's heart sink, he knew he was listening.

"I need you to know..." He took a deep breath, "I want you to know, that I feel really bad about all of...just, getting mad at you all the time. You seem to be going through such a hard time, and I still don't understand why you are nice to me after everything I've done, and how bad I've treated you. I just...just want to say I'm sorry."

He waited for Bolt to come out and lick him on the cheek saying 'it's no big deal, just forget about it' but to Brad's disappointment, he didn't. Brad could barely figure out the feeling that Bolt was meaning to interpret. He expected something like a simple thankful feeling, but nothing came.

Brad's heart turned into water. He's tried to make things better, but it didn't seem to be enough for Bolt. By now, Brad had no clue what else to try. It seemed completely foolish of him to think that Bolt would forgive him, or even respond.

He put his arm in a circle on the floor and laid his head down on top of it, not knowing if he should attempt to cry or not. It was simply a rejection that he couldn't take. He didn't know if Bolt was still in the room, but he still would have heard his plea for forgiveness one way or another. Brad couldn't do it, he couldn't start to cry, not in front of Bolt, who is probably just behind the couch.

A knot formed in Brad's throat, and he could feel dread wash over him. he didn't want to look weak in Bolt's eyes, so he began to do his work again, even though all he really wanted was to leave the room, and not look back.

That was when he heard his dad's footsteps running up the stairs. He looked at his son and smiled. "Hey, you're up!"

Brad didn't look up, but he quickly wiped his wet eyes, hoping his dad wouldn't notice he was upset, but when he looked up his dad wasn't standing there, but had gone into the next room.

Brad was now getting frustrated. He threw his pencil onto the binder, and stood up, walking over to the window that was covered in black from the outside. He cupped his hands around his face, and noticed that in the next house, there was a light on. He didn't think much, except he couldn't help but feel very jealous. Whoever must live there, has life a hundred times better than him he was sure. If it was in his power to trade lives with that person, he knew he could handle it.

He turned and walked through the room, his hands in his pockets. Sure enough, Bolt was probably not in the room, but the fact kept nagging at him like an angry mosquito.

His dad walked in, and saw his son. "Hey, bud." He gave him a hug, which felt good to Brad, considering he and his dad aren't too close at all, at least he still loved him. He let go, "So, Sport, We've got someplace to go tonight, and-"

"I know," Brad said. "The babysitter."

His dad frowned playfully. "Aw, is it okay for tonight?"

"Yeah." Brad tried to sound cool about it. "You go on ahead, have fun with mom, at least I'll be able to enjoy my last day of school tomorrow." He smiled, trying not to make his dad feel worse.

"We've got a special place to go tonight, with you Brad," He said happily. "and I think you'll like it."

Brad could feel his heart soaring. He's almost never able to spend time with his parents anymore. This was hopefully good for him. He found it odd that his thinking was being exaggerated by the narrator.

"We'll be back at Nine thirty, to pick you up and we'll be back by about eleven, alright sport?" He smiled warmly.

"You've got it dad." Brad was too excited. He jumped straight to his homework, and almost zoomed through it all within 3 minutes. Go figure.

He was still bugged by the fact that Bolt was hiding, but he shook it off. His family seemed to be what really mattered. He was too exited, he was sure that Bolt was just ignoring him for some reason, but it didn't bug him much anymore. Soon his work was done, and he stretched out on the floor his arms above his head, and a smile on his face. He looked up at the clock and sure enough, it was 8:23, and his worked was done...now what to do?

***

Bolt didn't feel like talking to Brad, nor did he feel good about leaving him the way he had. But watching him play around, and dancing with the "babysitter" like some hysterical idiot, Bolt couldn't help but snicker. Brad looked rather...happy. Bolt didn't understand. But when Brad was in a good mood, he was too. When he was upset, Bolt was also. He could feel Brad's feelings for some strange and irrational reason, but it was happening.

Except now. He couldn't feel the same. He understood that Brad was in a funk, and that he tried to apologize, but Bolt couldn't get out from there just to be seen or more so, NOT seen by his dad. He knew that Brad would be seen talking to himself, and he didn't want his dad to see his son that way. He's probably like most good parents start to worry that his son is going bonkers.

He had reacted too late, and he knew this. He couldn't go in there and ruin it for him, even though Bolt knew that Brad thought he was obviously purposely ignoring him. He had no clue how to solve that, but probably had no time to try just the same. He stayed there, only sinking deeper into his own despair. He didn't want to ruin anything else in someones' life. He couldn't leave either. Brad had gotten his share from that too much. Bolt couldn't do anything to help himself. He laid there, completely incapable to trying had nowhere to go, no one to see, and no way to get home. By now, he's going to do something he'd never wanted to do.

He'll have to wait and find out if he's needed anymore...from anyone.