DISCLAIMER

As always, I don't own a thing.

Chapter 21

A Thousand MORE Tries (Part II)

(Carrie)

Carrie floated into the cafeteria at lunchtime and gave her ghostly white hair a slight toss. It was just something she liked to do, she wasn't trying to attract attention — that was something she normally didn't care for: being a ghost was often enough to have people do double takes. It really got frustrating some days, having younger children run up to her and asking to say "Boo!"

She floated into the lunch line at the very back, having taken her time in getting here. It wasn't like there was anything to look forward to, being unable to eat and all. The main reason Carrie usually came to lunch was to hang out with her friends between classes. There was little doubt they would talk about anything other than the Pep Fest today, but even Carrie felt it would be something fun to discuss.

And there was also another reason...

The moment she heard the school would be serving chocolate mint cake, Carrie found herself unable to stop thinking how she might try and get a bite. She had tasted the cake once before during her past possessions, and it had, by far, been the best thing she ever tasted. The cool mint, the rich chocolate, the way it melted like warm ice in your mouth. And to think, it was now so close and she wouldn't get to eat it. . . .

Just her luck, Carrie told herself. She had gone through this disappointment many times before, so why get her hopes up now? It wasn't like there was anyone willing to help her. . . .

But oddly enough, Carrie had already been thinking about one such person a fair few times today.

Carrie's normally cool face went suddenly warm as the idea formed again inside her head. Her breathing slowed as she glanced from the stack of lunch trays over to a table with its lone occupant. Carrie stared at him for so long that she forgot she was in line.

"Carrie?" said Rocky from behind the food bar. "You need anything?"

"Huh? Oh, uh . . . yeah," she said. "Can I just have a slice of chocolate mint cake, please?"

Rocky stared at her questionably.

"You know . . ." Carrie said with a shrug, "just to look at."

Carrie felt a flush of embarrassment flow over her face. She knew there was little point in asking for food when everyone knew she couldn't eat. Yet Rocky, regardless of knowing this fact, gave a friendly smile and went to slice her a piece. She took the plate with the dessert, noticing it was a lot bigger than the other slices.

"Thanks," she said with a light smile.

Carrie floated out of the line, passed Mr. Small at his desk and hovered in the air, staring down at her slice of cake. It smelled fantastic: the rich chocolate, the cool minty frosted filling, the little bits of mint sprinkled on top. Her taste buds might be dead, but thank the afterlife for noses!

Carrie looked up again at Gumball. He was seated by himself at his and Darwin's usual table; Darwin was eating lunch with Rachel over at her usual spot. Compared to the surrounding classmates, all of them eating or talking, Gumball didn't have a lunch tray with him and was looking slightly tired.

Carrie's insides tickled at the sight of him. This had been happening more often lately, and Carrie was in no doubt why — the warm sensation she got in her cheeks and stomach whenever she thought of Gumball was enough of a giveaway. It didn't take a genius to connect the dots and see the full picture, though heaven forbid anyone manage it.

Looking down at the cake in her hands, Carrie's mind encouraged her to go ahead with her idea.

It'll be fine, she told herself. She had been practicing and now had much better control whenever she possessed someone. Surely Gumball will understand once she explained it to him. And who knows . . . if she played it right, Carrie might float away from this with more than just cake (if her nerves didn't fail her, that is).

Taking a deep breath, Carrie ran a hand over her white bangs and drifted across the cafeteria, passed her friends who were chatting about the Pep Fest, and stopped two feet from Gumball's table.

Already her ghostly pulse began to race. It was now or never.

"Hi, Gumball," said Carrie, fighting to keep a straight face as the tickling inside her stomach persisted.

Gumball didn't seem to hear her. He was still slumped forward with his hand pressed against his face, appearing somewhat bored.

"Gumball?" Carrie repeated, but still he didn't move. "You okay?"

Again, Gumball didn't look at her, though he did speak.

"Hey," he said in a very low, quiet voice.

Sensing that something was obviously wrong, Carrie felt her self-encouragement dwindle. Gumball obviously wasn't in a very happy mood; in fact, if Carrie had to guess, he might be suffering from something tragic, given how he was slumped over in his seat.

"Do you need something, Carrie?" he asked tiredly.

Finding her nerve again, Carrie swallowed, and, as calmly and cooly as she could handle, replied, "I was just wondering . . . if you don't mind, would you . . . would you help me eat this cake, please?"

Gumball's eyes glanced from her to the slice resting on its plate.

"I mean, you don't have to," said Carrie hasitily. She didn't want to sound persistant, not when Gumball might not be feeling up to it. "But . . . it's just that I really like chocolate mint cake, and I've been practicing my possessing. I can control myself much better now than the last time I did it with you. And so I was thinking . . . you know, if you don't mind . . . ."

Carrie couldn't help it; her cheeks were starting to go red — she could feel it.

Gumball let out a very deep sigh.

Carrie felt numbness fill her ghostly stomach. Of course it had been too much to hope for. Gumball surely wouldn't have forgotten the last time he let her to use his body to eat. And what was worse, Carrie had fooled not only herself, but also her heart. There was no way Gumball would ever —

"All right, I'll do it."

Carrie looked up in surprise. "Huh?"

"I'll help you eat your cake," Gumball replied tiredly.

"You . . . you mean it?" asked Carrie. She could feel elation building inside her.

"Yeah," said Gumball cooly. "Go ahead." He sat up staright, took a deep breath and closed his eyes, ready for the possession.

"Thank you! Oh, thank you!" said Carrie, her voice trembling with happiness.

And, not wasting a second more, she flew forward and entered.

There was a moment of pitch black as Carrie's sight vanished and a strange, tingly sensation flowed down her arms and into the legs she did not own. She could feel her skull and jaw realigning as she took on Gumball's cat body and felt a tail poking down out of her spine.

Carrie's vision became clear. Everyone in the cafeteria was still eating and chatting amongst themselves; none of them seemed to have noticed anything. She was now sitting at the table, the beautiful slice of cake laying in front of her. The fur on her hands had turned from blue to a sickly green and her breathing filled her lungs in rasps. The muslces in her arms and legs felt whole and solid. The soft fabric of Gumball's sweater was pressed comfortably to her torso and back. She felt...she felt...

Carrie frowned. Her hunger died as a swirling array of emotion flooded into her brain. Monotony, depression, frustration, sadness, self-loathing, confusion — it was bombarding her synapses as it rushed down her throat and into her heart. It was discomfort like she never felt before, in this life or any other she might have experienced.

Unable to tolerate it, Carrie forced herself from the muscles she controlled and flew out of Gumball's skin.

Gumball gave a trembling shiver and his appearance settled back to normal, a slight dizzying look on his face.

"Gumball . . ." Carrie was floating next to him, all thought of eating the cake driven out of her mind. "What . . . what was . . ."

Gumball sighed and said, "Oh, it's nothing, Carrie. I'm just not in the highest of spirits."

He stood up from the table and began to walk away. Carrie watched him head for the cafeteria's exit. She was still stunned by what she had experienced in Gumball's body. The feelings he held, the feelings she had felt were more numbing than any Carrie had felt in a long time. Gumball's tired expression might have been a smile compared to what was happening on the inside.

Go! she thought urgently. Go after him and help! Don't leave him to feel like that!

Without needing to think twice, Carrie grabbed her cake and shot for the closing doors.

Outside in the hall, Gumball was dragging his feet as he moved away, slouching as though he were weighed down by some invisible backpack. The sight of him made Carrie feel hollow.

She flew forward and stopped in front of him, blocking his way.

"Gumball, what is wrong?" she asked, and she was surprised to hear how worried she sounded. "You feel . . . well, you felt horrible back there."

Gumball, his arms drooping like wilted flowers, let out a sigh and said, "I guess I could be doing better."

"Maybe a bite of cake will help?" said Carrie, and she held out the soft, minty slice before him. He clearly needed the deliciousness more than she did, and Carrie was more than happy to provide it.

Gumball gave the cake a dismayed look and then gently pushed it back. "No thanks, Carrie. I'm really not hungry right now. If you want, you can try using my body again."

Carrie immdiatly replied, "No! No, that's all right." She wouldn't have stepped back into Gumball's body for all the chocolate mint cake on earth...at least, not with him feeling like he was now.

Perhaps Gumball knew what Carrie was thinking about, because his eyes dropped to the dirty school floor. "Did you hear anything you didn't like when you went inside me?" he asked.

"No," said Carrie, honestly. "But I did feel . . . a lot of things."

Gumball said nothing.

"Uh . . . Gumball?" said Carrie. "Is there anything you want to talk about? I mean, if you don't want to, I'll understand, but . . . maybe I can help you."

Carrie felt her face go warm again, though thankfully she didn't blush (at least, she hoped not).

Then she dreaded whether she would be able to help at all. She, after all, didn't normally talk about emotions. Being a ghost, emotions came to Carrie kind of shakily. Although . . . she had always been able to talk openly with Gumball, even when they were in preschool. Despite that others thought her strange and even spooky for the way she was, Gumball always talked to her like she were a normal person, and he always listened to her regardless and tried to help whenever he could.

If only he could know how much that meant to her . . . .

Gumball continued to stare at her, almost pityingly. Carrie could feel herself growing warmer, a warmth that only Gumball ever made her experience. Trying her best to ignore it lest a blush betray her, she waited patiently.

Finally, after what seemed like a whole five minutes in the totally quiet hallway, Gumball shook his head.

"No, Carrie," he said, drearily. "I really don't see the point in trying to talk."

"You won't know if you don't try!" said Carrie, now a little impatient. "What do you have to lose by just talking? You know you can confide in me, Gumball!"

She froze, her eyes widening. She hadn't meant to speak so passionately.

"But I have, Carrie," said Gumball, gloomly. "I have talked about it with you before, and that didn't help then. It only made you feel sad . . . and I don't want that. Now, please, excuse me. I have a writing assignment to do in the library."

Confused, her neglected cake still in her hands, Carrie watched Gumball step around her and trudge away down the hall, disappearing around the corner. Her gaze sinking to the floor, Carrie's white bangs fell into her face, and she couldn't find the reason to fling them aside.

She didn't think it were possible, but she felt colder and more miserable than usual. These feelings were nothing new to Carrie: it came with being a ghost, it was just something she normally lived with. And yet, despite what she was, there had always been a unique, most wonderful ray of light in her life that made her feel warm and happy.

Looking at him today though, the light may very well have dwindled and died, and that, without a doubt, was the worst feeling in the world.

(Penny)

The school bus pulled to a steady halt right outside the Watterson's house. Penny, with her white pom-poms resting on her lap, leaned in her bus seat and glanced out the window in hopes of catching a glimpse of Gumball and his siblings.

She could see Anais standing there on the sidewalk, but could only make out the side edges of Gumball and Darwin's heads.

Penny stared more intently through the glass. She was only guessing, but from the way Anais was looking over at her two brothers, Penny thought there was something troubling her. And, when the bus doors opened and the Watterson siblings stepped on, Penny immediately saw why. The sight in front of her was, indeed, a troubling one.

Gumball dragged his feet down the bus' aisle, his posture sagging, looking as though he had lived a thousand years without peace. The depressing sight of him seemed to catch the whole bus' attention as every eye followed him towards the backseat.

When he came close enough, Penny reached out her hand.

"Gumball?" she asked softly. "Are you okay?"

Gumball didn't stop, but did give her a side glance, and there was nothing but sadness in those eyes.

When the bus started moving again, everyone gave a light shrug to Gumball's morning gloom and went back to other random things. Tobias and Banana Joe were practicing armpit farts, Jamie was punching the air while chatting with Tina, and, in the very back, Carrie was glancing every so often towards the backseat.

The hollowness Penny felt in her peanut shell, growing like a sharp lead weight, grew even worse at every bump and turn the bus made, because each time they happened, she felt compelled to look over her shoulder at Gumball, only to turn back again feeling worse than before.

It was as though the blue cat sitting in the backseat had never met Gumball Watterson, had never seen him smile, or heard him laugh, or knew just how joyful and wonderful Gumball really was . . . how Penny knew he was.

Penny couldn't have asked for a more depressing day, let alone have it be the same one she and her friends performed a cheer routine.

As she and the cheerleaders walked to Miss Simian's first class, Carmen instructed them to let go of all stressful thoughts and focus on bringing up their spirit for the afternoon. For Penny, though, this request proved impossible.

No matter how she tried forcing herself, Penny couldn't take her eyes away from Gumball. Though she sat in the desk behind him and thus couldn't see his face, even Gumball's back seemed to moan with depression as he slouched forward, his head resting on his folded arms. He was dead quiet all through the morning except during a pop quiz, when Miss Simian asked him to state the six Noble Gases, which he did correctly, though in a very drab voice.

The very air around Gumball seemed to tell everyone he wasn't interested in talking. Even Darwin, who received an F for not having his name down on their science report, left his brother alone. Whether he did so out of anger or pity, Penny didn't know; she couldn't read Darwin like she could Gumball.

When the bell rang for lunch, Penny approached the two brothers in the hallway as the rest of the class walked off.

"Gumball?" she asked. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," he said in a tone so dreary there was no possible way he could be fine.

"Did something happen?" Penny asked Darwin.

"I don't know," he said. "He's been like this since this morning. I tried talking to him, but he won't say anything."

And at these words, Penny knew the situation was even worse than she thought. From the first day she had met them all those years ago, Gumball and Darwin always did everything together. She lost count of the times they've confided in each other or helped the other out of some trouble, or, to the contrary, assisted the other in some trouble. But no matter how things were, no matter what they faced, the two brothers always had each other, for better or worse.

Deciding then that a little firm love was needed, Penny stepped in front of Gumball and blocked his way.

"Gumball," Penny said firmly. "I don't know what's bothering you, but I can tell you sulking like this won't help. Me and Darwin can, though. Just tell us, please, what is wrong?"

Gumball lifted his gaze and stared right at her. Penny had the uncomfortable impression she was looking into the eyes of an old man, worn by time and weakened by despair.

"What is wrong?" Gumball repeated gloomily. "What's wrong, Penny, is that nothing works for me."

Just as Penny opened her mouth to express her bewilderment, Gumball continued in that deadpanned tone which did not belong to him.

"I thought I finally figured it out. I did everything I could. I said I was sorry, I acted thankful, I tried to be supportive, I did my best to fix everything . . . and I want nothing more than to join you all and be happy. But nothing works. . ."

Penny didn't have a clue in her antlered head what Gumball was talking about. Darwin looked no better as he stood there listening, limp with worry.

"I wake up and nothing I do seems to matter," Gumball continued, his voice breaking. "I really am trying . . ."

"Gumball . . . ." Penny was now feeling quite alarmed, and without hesitating, she took Gumball's blue hand in both of hers.

His eyes widened at this unexpected action.

"Please, Gumball," Penny said gently. "I can tell you're sad about something, and I don't like it. Whatever's happening, I'm sure it's not as bad as you think it is.

"Believe me, I have bad days, too. Sometimes I feel how you feel now, thinking nothing matters and that there is no point. It can get so bad that I don't even feel like myself anymore. But you know what?" she added, her tone changing to one of hope. "I stop and realize that however bad today might be, there's always tomorrow. Tomorrow things will be better, and I'll do my best to see that it is. And I won't be alone in it, either. I'll have everyone I care about with me: my mom, dad, sister, friends . . . and I'll have you . . ." She tightened her grip on Gumball's hand. "I will know how good everything really is, because I have all of you . . . .

"So . . ." Penny made a brave attempt at a smile. "Gumball, can you wait for tomorrow . . . for me?"

Gumball didn't answer. He wasn't exactly miserable anymore, but he was nowhere near as encouraged as Penny would've liked. He still had that air about him that told Penny there was something dreadful hanging inside of him, something sharp and hard that not even she could force away.

With what looked like a heavy heart, Gumball patted Penny's hand and pulled his away.

"Penny . . . I wish I could say everything you said," he told her. "I wish I could be as hopeful as you. I would love more than anything to see tomorrow with you and everyone else . . . but this is as far as I can go . . . it's as good as I can do. And for that, I am sorry."

He inhaled a deep sigh that sounded on the verge of a sob, then said, "You both better get going or all the food's going to be taken."

In pained defeat, Penny and Darwin watched him walk away. Her eyes burning, her spirit so weak she could hardly breathe, Penny heard Gumball cheerlessly say, "Hi, Carrie," just as he turned the corner and disappeared completely.

(Rachel)

Rachel put her lunch tray down on a table next to a window and sat down. She took a few bites of pasta, which she supposed was all right — you know, for school food — and was eagerly on the watch for Darwin.

It was funny, how affection works. Never in her life had Rachel imagined that she, an eighth grader, would develop feelings for someone of the lower grades. The very idea would've been the equivalent of popularity suicide. Rachel couldn't afford any risk to her public image, especially with how the "popular crowd" tended not to show up, no doubt uninterested because of anything which didn't match their idea of perfection. But with Darwin, Rachel found, to her surprise, that she couldn't care less what those popular snobs thought.

Darwin was sweet, caring, and — she blushed — very cute. He was always happy to talk to her and didn't care how popular she was. True, he was a bit strange at times (literally being a fish out of water), but what did that matter? Darwin liked her and Rachel liked him.

Smirking and shaking her head, Rachel took a bite of chocolate mint cake and savored the taste.

It really was funny, how affection works. That cactus girl in Darwin's grade — Carmen was it? — has a crush on a talking balloon. Miss Simian, a dreadful, nasty teacher had feelings for fair-minded, likable Principal Brown. And Gumball . . . .

Rachel slapped her hand to her face and started to laugh. When it came to romance, Gumball was more lucky than most boys could imagine, and the funniest part of all, he didn't seem to realize how lucky he was.

As Rachel waited for Darwin, she glanced around the cafeteria and watched Mr. Small take down a few of her class' guesses at how many coffee beans were in the 10 gallon water jug.

Rachel hadn't bothered taking a guess. The prizes were probably just a bunch of junk Tobias and his old babies would like, she thought derisively.

By the time she was halfway through her food, Rachel spotted Darwin making his way down the lunch line. It was Tina's loud dinosaur stomps that alerted the whole room to the arrival of Miss Simian's class.

Rachel smiled expectantly as Darwin approached her, but her grin vanished quickly as he sat down beside her.

"Hi, Rachel," said Darwin, looking quite down in the dumps.

"Darwin, you okay?" Rachel asked.

"No," he said simply. "Something's going on with Gumball."

"What about him?" Though Rachel didn't think very much about Gumball, she knew how much Darwin loved him. Honestly, the way he talked about his brother while they were together made Rachel feel slightly jealous at how good their brotherhood was, as compared to hers and Tobias'.

"Well . . ." said Darwin, scratching the back of his orange head with his fin. "I don't know. He's not talking much. Mrs. Mom, Mr. Dad, and Anais were really worried about him this morning. Just now, before I came in, Penny and Carrie asked me what was wrong, but I don't know what to tell them. Not entirely sure why Carrie asked."

"Yeah . . . I wonder," Rachel said nonchalantly, knowing perfectly well why Carrie was worried. "Did something happen to him recently?"

"Well . . . yeah, a lot has happened . . . ."

He told Rachel everything that happened that morning: their mom's broken china plate, their dad and something about Gumball ignoring his new neck tie, and worst of all, at least in Rachel's opinion, Gumball forgetting Darwin's name on their science report, resulting in him failing.

"Serves him right!" said Rachel hotly. "He should feel bad about that! And after all the work you put into it? Just let him sit and feel guilty!"

"Rachel," said Darwin with gentle seriousness, "this isn't just about my grade. Gumball was like this when he woke up, before we got our grades this morning."

"But aren't you mad he forgot your name?"

"Not as much as I was at first. I mean, look at him," he said, pointing his fin off to the side.

Rachel followed it and found Gumball sitting alone a few tables away. He looked a total mess. He was slouched over, his blue head resting on the table, his arms sprawled out in front of him. He had the air of someone who had been dumped, beaten up, abandoned, denied happiness, lost respect — in short, was depressed like only the miserable could feel or much worse.

"Whoa," Rachel said, now genuinely concerned.

"I know," said Darwin gloomily.

Rachel, feeling her appetite disappear at Darwin's expression, looked around desperately for a change of subject, but thought that would be insensitive.

But then her eyes caught sight of something that seemed to show some hope.

"Oh, look, Darwin!" said Rachel, pointing in Gumball's direction. "Penny and Carrie are going up to talk to him."

Darwin looked up. As Rachel had guessed, Penny and Carrie were now trying to console Gumball. A moment passed with Rachel and Darwin watching the two girls, but, from how Gumball remained dead-like in his seat, Rachel didn't think Penny or Carrie were having much luck.

Not knowing what else to say, Rachel said, "I'm sure things will get better. Don't worry about it, Darwin. Wait 'til the Pep Fest. I'm sure Gumball will feel better by then."

But as Rachel dreaded, Gumball's demeanor did not improve in the slightest. He didn't even look up from the bleachers to watch the ongoing celebration. He might have thought he was completely alone, the way he was slouching.

Gritting her teeth, feeling quite impatient, Rachel muttered, "For crying out loud, cheer up! Stop acting like a baby! You're making Darwin feel bad!"

Gumball looked her in face, and, with a heart so heavy it could sink a ship, said, "I know. It seems that's all I can do lately . . . ."

He dropped his gaze again to his feet, leaving Rachel silent and drained of Pep.

Rachel tried one last time on the bus going home. She was sitting beside Carrie who was looking thoroughly miserable (more than usual). Darwin and Anais were both as silent and dreary, both having given up trying to get Gumball to talk to them.

"Oh, come on, Gumball!" Rachel said to him, turning in her bus seat. "You're normally so happy! Seriously, it's almost annoying to watch you smile in your stupid misadventures. Whatever's bothering you, I'm sure it'll die down by tomorrow. So just wait until then, okay?"

And for the second time that day, Gumball lifted his sight towards her and spoke. "What's the point of waiting for something that never comes?"

Rachel, baffled at this question, didn't give an answer.

So that was it, wasn't it? The end of the road . . . .

His mother's shouting, his sister's glares, his father's tears, his brother's anger, and Penny constantly being disappointed. . . . This, other than Carrie floating away with a little more droop than usual, was all Gumball noticed anymore. Everything else about today was so bland he found himself going temporarily blind and deaf. Moments would pass in which he would fall limp and sleepy, and every time he opened his eyes it would all start again, more tedious than the last.

Sitting alone in his bedroom, his whole family angry with him for things he could not mend, Gumball fell backwards onto his lower bunk. He stared up at the top bunk's underside, his eyes roaming over the angles and spaces in the bed's frame, listening to himself breath through his nose.

He didn't get up as it got dark, nor did he go down to dinner when his mother furiously called him.

While his whole family went to bed, he remained where he was, splayed out on his bunk, fully dressed, not feeling the slightest bit tired.

His eyes moved slowly in their sockets and glanced the alarm clock from across the blackened room. Its glowing numbers read 11:00.

Sighing, Gumball painfully sat himself up and got to his feet, but no sooner had he stood up, he fell right back again onto the lower bunk.

What was the point? he told himself. He was going to be up there in the top bunk when the morning came anyway. It'll happen whether he was up there or not, just as his family will keep getting angry and everything will keep being his fault. It didn't matter what he did — nothing made any difference.

All Gumball could do now was think ahead. There was no point in thinking about the past and he had had enough of today to last a few hundred lifetimes. The future was the only thing he had left to keep himself from going totally crazy. Or maybe he was already crazy . . . the future wasn't coming after all, so what was there to look forward to? He had been stupid enough to believe he had actually figured out what to do, and look at where it's gotten him: nowhere.

His eyes became heavier as the minutes dragged by.

The black mark on his shoulder had stopped throbbing at last as though it had finally made its mark and its carrier had finally accepted defeat. As midnight neared and his mind began drifting into the black, Gumball couldn't hold it back anymore. He was defeated. He was through.

No matter what he did, no matter how he approached it, no matter what reparations were made, the results Gumball desperately hoped for never came. The Loop was permanent . . . It was hopeless.

The was no way out.

I hope you all enjoyed these two chapters. Things aren't looking good for Gumball, but these meloncoly feelings are nothing compared to what I have planned next. The story is halfway over, but there are still a few chapters left before the ending. Or...maybe I shouldn't end this fanfic... Maybe, to go with the nature of time passing by and soul-crushing disappointment, maybe I should keep it going...forever...

NAH! I'll write an ending for it. See you all later!