Hey guys! I am so sorry for the wait! It turns out high school is nothing like middle school, or high school musical for that matter. I have had so much work, and so much pressure, it's only the first week. I think I'm going to die.

Anyways, I have big plans for this story. And if your one of those people that keep asking me questions that I keep answering in my AN but don't read my AN and still ask me the same questions:

ASTRID WILL BE IN THE STORY. HICCUP WILL GO BACK TO SCHOOL IN THE FALL.

Like for God sakes you people came here to read. So read!

Sorry, high school is changing me. I must go back to my inner person. Ish. Anyways, here is chapter 21!

Chapter 21: Truth or Lie?

"Just try it, Hiccup." My father said, sitting across from me on the other side of the room. We were at my weekly doctor's appointment, and after seeing that I had only gained two pounds this week, my father was in a not-so-good-mood.

I started down at the wooden peg, which they had strapped onto my stump as something to practice with until I got my real one.

"Ok," I breathed. Don't look at it, don't look at it. I repeated in my head. It looked so abnormal. I hated it. I everything about it. All it did was show me that I was never going to be normal.

I took a confident step on my good leg, and then took a deep breath as I placed the wooden peg on the floor. I felt white hot pain shoot up my leg, and I yelped as I started to crumple to the floor.

But, I never hit the floor. Because strong, warm arms caught me around the waist and hefted me into them.

I was being cradled against a solid, warm chest. I looked up, and my father's gaze met mine.

"Are you alright?" He asked me, slowly letting me back to the ground. I leaned onto him as support, since I didn't want to put any pressure on the leg.

I nodded. "Yes, I'm fine. Let's try that again."

"Hiccup," My father said to me, "don't push yourself so hard. "

"I havent even taken three steps!" I said. I can do this. He thinks I'm weak, but if I show him I can get across the room, then maybe...

I took another confident step on my good leg, and then I closed my eyes and held me breath as I slowly leaned on the prothstetic.

Pain shot up again, but I bit down hard on my bottom lip, as I took another step on my good leg.

Then, I put pressure on my bad leg, and I bit down harder on my lip as I fought the urge to cry out.

I sighed in relief as I took another step onto my good leg.

And this was how it went. By the time I made it to the other side of the room, I fell into my father's arms out of pure exhaustion, and my bottom lip was bleeding pretty bad.

"I did it." I panted. I could feel blood dripping from my lip to my chin, but I didn't care: I had shown my father that I wasn't weak. I made it across the room.

"You're pushing yourself too hard," My father said, lifting me up under the arms so I didn't have to put anymore pressure on my bad leg.

"I'm fine." I said, as I rested my head on his shoulder. I was so tired, and in so much pain.

"Baby steps, Hiccup. Baby steps." My father whispered to me. I had my legs wrapped around him as he supported me with his hands on my bottom.

I took deep breaths as I waited for the pain to ease in my leg.

"Does it hurt?" My father said, as he walked over to the exaimining table and placed me on it. "Wait, that was a stupid question."

I laughed a little bit, but I was so exhausted I could barely hold my head up. It took a lot out of me just to cross the room.

"You look like your going to pass out." My father said as he placed his huge hand on my sweaty forehead.

"I'll be fine." I reassured him. That was the last thing I needed: My father thinking I was sick...or weak.

"I don't think you should have gone that far." My dad said, trying to soothe me as I panted.

"You told me to try it. And I did." I said, shrugging.

"Sorry, to push you." My father said, pushing my bangs off my forehead.

"Mn." I was so tired I couldn't even finish a sentence anymore.

"I need to go get Dr. Verso. You don't look so good." My father tilted my chin up so he could look at my face. "Your pale."

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, paler then usual."

"Dad, I'll be fine." I said.

But just then, Dr. Verso strolled in, looking he same as he did the day I met him. Once he looked at me, his gaze grew stern, and marched over to me.

"You pushed yourself too hard, didn't you?" He didn't let me answer before he lifted up my shirt and listened to my heartbeat.

"Your heart rate has increase." Dr. Verso sighed. "Hiccup, your limb is fresh and new and hasn't been walked on or even put pressure on. Three steps is the most you should take at a time for the next four days. You have to get the leg used to pressure. Understand?"

I just nodded.

Dr. Verso turned to my father and said, " I'll give you a list of foods that will help him gain weight. I'll go grab that for you. Other than that you're free to go."

"Thank you." My father said to Dr. Verso. As the docotr left to go grab the food sheet, I strapped off the fake leg and let it fall to the floor with a clunk!

"I hate this." I said, looking at my limp stump dangling off the side of the table.

"I know you do." My father said, his tone gentle, yet sad. "I wish I never sent your to that mall."

"I don't." I mumbled.

My father looked at me, his brow furrowed. "You just said-"

"I hate this," I said, gesturing to my leg. "But if you never took me along, if you never sent me to the mall, than I would have never gotten hit. And if I had never gotten hit, you wouldn't love me the way you are pretending to."

My father's mouth dropped, and as he was trying to find some lame excuse saying that "he always loved me", Dr. Verso came in with the list of foods I can eat.

My father closed his mouth, but his face was full of pain and sorrow, and he looked liked he was going to cry. But, that was ridiculous. My father never cries.

My father thanked Dr. Verso as I tried to slide myself off the table and into my wheel chair.

But, instead, strong, warm arms wrapped around me. I was pressed against my their solid chest, there large hands resting on my back and waist. By the tightness of the grip, I knew it was my father.

"The wheel chair won't be necessary." My father said, bouncing me further up his chest so I could rest my head on his shoulder.

"Dad-"

"Hush, Hiccup," He whispered in my ear. My face burned red. I hated the fact that I was dependent on him. I hated it when he carried me around. And most importantly, I hated feeling weak.

I could feel him moving. When he went to go check me out at the from office, he was able to balance me on his hip and hold me with one hand. I knew I was light, but not that light. It just made me even more embarrassed.

He placed me on the passenger side of the car, and as I buckled myself in he slide into the driver's seat.

"Dad-"

"We're going to the grocery store." He interrupted me again, starting the car. "We need to get some of these things on the list. The sooner you gain weight the better."

"Won't matter," I mumbled, "You'll always be able to carry me around like a doll."

My father chuckled, but it seemed forced. It was silent in the car for a few minutes, until I just had to ask him the question that was burning inside of me.

"Dadwhat'swrong?" I said fast, so he wouldn't interrupt me.

He looked over at me, puzzled. "What was that?"

I took a deep breath. "Dad, what's wrong? You seem upset."

My father's face turned sad. "Nothing, Hiccup."

"Is it me? I swear, I know juggling me and you're job is hard, I still don't know why you put up with me, but I'll do more so you don't have to-"

"No, Hiccup." My father said, his voice stern, with no kindness in it at all. I shrunk down in my seat, knowing that a more harsh words or worse, being ignored would usually follow after a tone like that.

My father sensed my discomfort, so he softened his face and landed a comforting hand on the side of my face. I tensed, thinking he was going to slap me, but when no pain came, I relaxed a little.

We pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store, and as my father got out of the car I didn't budge.

"Come on, Hiccup." He said, opening up my door.

"You are not carrying me around that store. Let me keep a little bit of my dignity."

My father laughed: real this time.

"I have a solution," He said, "Wait here." He disappeared, and in a few minutes he returned with a shopping cart.

"I know that I can fit in the baby passenger seat thing, but I am not getting in that thing."

"No, not that." He said. He picked me up and put me in the cart. I sat cross legged in the center of the cart.

"Wait, you can fit in here?" My dad asked curiously, gesturing to the spot in the front of the cart where people usually put there little kids when shopping.

"Well, yeah. But, I'm not getting in there!" My father just laughed and then started pushing the cart. We entered the store, and thank the gods for my baggy tee shirt and sweatpants, or else I would be getting a lot more stares.

My dad mumbles the items on the list as he reads it. We cruise down the isles, picking different foods out that I guess will help me gain weight.

As we cruise around the store, I got bored. And a bored Hiccup is never good. So, I start building a fort out of all of the food around me. I stack the jars of peanut butter and the wrapped up slabs of meat. My dad looked at weirdly.

"What are you doing?" He asked, putting a block of cheese in the cart. I added it to the fort.

"Building a fort." I said. I smile at him and start laughing. He started laughing too.

"You haven't change a bit." My dad said, "You used to do stuff like this when you were little. Drove me crazy. I thought you would grow out of it, but it's just the way you are I guess."

I smile at him, showing all of my teeth, and go back to building my fort of food. As my father placed cans of soup, loafs of bread, two gallons of milk, a bottle of orange juice and cranberry juice, a carton of eggs, boxes of noodles, a jar of some sauce, and a bunch of other stuff in the cart, I just added it to my fort. Basically, I just surrounded myself with food. And then built little pyramids with the cans. I was bored, what do you expect?

My father just watched me the entire time, studying me as I built my little fort and small things out of the food in the shopping cart.

Finally, it was time to check out and go home. My shopping adventure had come to an end.

"Sorry, Hiccup. But, it's time to take down your fort." My father said to me, laughing a little.

"Aw," I said, fake pouting. I liked my little fort of food.

After my dad paid for the food, I made all of the food in the little plastic bags surround me. So, I guess it was a different version of my little fort. My father put all of the food in the back of the car, and then went to go return the cart with me in it.

"You're not going to leave me in here, are you?" I said. "I can just see that headline now. 'One legged kid left in a Shopping Cart.'"

My father frowned at me. "I would never leave you, Hiccup." My father said, picking me up around the waist like I was nothing more than a rag doll, and held me close. The cart was put in the little 'Return Shopping Cart' thing in the parking lot.

My father placed me in the car, and as I buckled myself in, he slide into the driver's side. As we drove down the road to our house, I stared out the window, thinking.

"Let me ask you something," My dad said after a few minutes of silence, interrupting my thinking.

"Ok." I said, a little unsure.

"Why don't you believe me when I tell you I love you?"

I stared at my father, speechless. His face read as if he asked how my day had been. "Um," I said, unsure how to answer the question. "It just seems unpractical."

"What seems unpractical? Me loving you?" His voice broke mid sentence, but he never took his eyes off the road.

"Yes...well, being loved in general, I suppose." I said, looking down at my lap and playing with strings on my sweatpants.

"Oh, Hiccup." My father sighed. "Why would you think something like that?"

"Why wouldn't I think like that?" I asked him. "There is something wrong with me. Nobody talked to me at school, you wouldn't look at me, let alone buy food for me," I said, jerking my head towards the back of the car, where the groceries were. "It's hard to change my way of thinking after doing it for some time now."

MY father's eyes were shinny and sparkling. His large hands were shaking on the steering wheel as he turned into our driveway.

"I'm sorry." I said, "I shouldn't have said anything in the first place. I'm sorry to upset you." We pulled into our garage. My father placed an arm around my stomach as I unbuckled my seat belt. "Stay here." He said, his tone a little cold.

I watched him take all of the groceries out of the car and put them into the house. Then, he finally came for me. He opened up my door and wrapped his large hands around my middle. Then, he brought me up into his arms, bouncing me on his hip as you would do to a baby.

As we entered the house, Toothless greeted us, wanting to know where we were. He meowed at me, wanting me to play with him. My dad sat me down on the couch, Toothless jumping up next to me. He started purring as I picked up a cat toy from the floor and started playing with him.

"What do you want for lunch?" My dad asked me, setting two plates out on the counter.

"Um, whatever you want." I said to him. "Get it Toothless! Get it!" I cheered on as I threw a toy mouse at him.

My dad laughed a little as he brought out a pot to make pasta. He walked over to me to turn the T.V. on. The daily noon news was just starting. My dad smiled at me, and bent down to kiss my forehead.

"I love you." He said to me. I smiled up at him.

But, how could I know if it was the truth, or a lie?