March 2004
Tolbert looked down when someone started to tug on his sleeve, finding Bud. He smiled and lifted the boy onto his lap, planting a kiss on top of his head. Tolbert didn't say anything — it wouldn't have done him any good. Bud was deaf.
But he had an appointment to go back to the doctor sometime this week to receive hearing aids. From the time the McCoys had discovered Bud was having issues hearing them (late August of 2002) until the time he was diagnosed (April of last year), they had struggled to understand why he never listened to what they said, acknowledged them, or just outright ignored what he was told to do.
Tolbert brushed Bud's long hair out of his eyes and sighed. He didn't think it was right that a one-year-old child went completely deaf. But it didn't matter; Bud was still loved as much as he had been before he started having problems with his ears well over a year ago.
"Reckon we'll have t' cut yer hair, youngin'. It's gettin' a little long," Tolbert breathed a laugh, the little boy looking up at him in bewilderment. "You have no idea what I'm sayin', I know. Try t' treat ya as normal as I can, though. Let's give ya a haircut. Ya need it n I'm sure Mama agrees."
"Mama agrees wit' what?" Ran'l asked as he walked into the living room.
"Bud needs a haircut," Tolbert replied, looking over at his father.
"He does, don't he?" Ran'l muttered, pulling his fingers through the boy's thick hair. "You doin' it this time?"
"Yeah. Unless you wanna."
"Nah. I'll hold him still for ya. Wanna do it outside? Yer Mama's less likely t' kill us that way. Hair ain't all over the kitchen floor."
"Sure," Tolbert laughed.
—
Tolbert was sprawled on his bed, a blanket wrapped around his waist. He was waiting for Ran'l and Sally to return home, as they'd taken Bud to his appointment, and he was getting impatient.
But while he waited, he had plenty of homework to keep him occupied. Tolbert clicked his tongue, reading over the math problem before attempting to solve it. He had a feeling the answer was wrong, but when he was told he had to learn how to do it from the book and it wasn't going to be explained, he felt it was more his teacher's fault than it was his.
He looked up when his door opened, revealing Sally with his little brother, who squirmed in her arms until she set him down. Tolbert raised an inquisitive brow, his eyes fixated on his mother. She nodded slightly.
Bud grunted and smacked at Tolbert, who breathed a laugh before shifting to a sitting position and lifting him up, setting him on the bed beside him before closing his textbook.
"Hey, Buddy."
Bud looked up at him, blinking a few times.
"Whatcha lookin' at me like that for? Ya hear me?"
Tolbert didn't protest when the boy climbed onto his lap, putting his head against his chest near his heart. Tolbert didn't think anything of it until the boy gasped and jerked back. Tolbert gave him an odd look before the boy pressed his ear to Tolbert's chest again, only to react in the same way, this time with his brows furrowed.
"Mama..." Tolbert trailed off, looking up to find that his mother wasn't there anymore. "Bud, what in the world are you a-doin'?"
Bud pressed his ear to Tolbert's chest a third time, pulling back again with his brows furrowed. And when he smacked the spot where Tolbert's heart was, Tolbert understood.
"Hey, hey, stop that. I need that t' work, kiddo."
Bud made a noise in the back of his throat.
"It's just my heartbeat, baby. You got one too. Ev'ryone's got one so long as they're alive."
Tolbert knew that it wasn't likely that Bud understood anything he was saying, but he still felt like he had to explain it. Bud blinked a few times and put his head against Tolbert's chest again. He didn't move this time; he just laid there with his head on Tolbert's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.
He liked the sound. It was calming. He didn't really know what a heartbeat was, but he liked the sound of it. He liked the sound of Tolbert's voice, too. Just like he liked Sally and Ran'l's voices as well. He didn't really understand what they were saying to him, but he liked to hear them talk.
Bud's eyes fluttered closed when Tolbert started combing his fingers through his hair. He hummed and scooted a little closer, earning a quiet giggle from his older brother.
Tolbert gathered the boy in his arms and stood up, untangling himself from the blanket before sitting down again. He laid Bud down before moving his books and pencil off of the bed. He laid down next to Bud, pulling the covers up and covering both of them.
Bud scooted closer to Tolbert, laying his head on his chest and hearing the steady beat of Tolbert's heart. Tolbert started to play with the boy's hair, letting out an amused huff when Bud started fighting to stay awake.
Bud's bed was in the corner on the other side of the room, but he refused to sleep in it. Tolbert didn't know why, but he had stopped trying to get Bud to sleep in his own bed. He would grow out of it eventually.
He glanced down at him, finding that the boy was peering up at him. He blinked a few times but kept his eyes focused on his older brother. He gently nudged him.
"What?" Tolbert asked. Bud nudged him again after he stopped talking. "What, Buddy? I don't know what ya want."
He stuck his bottom lip out in a pout after a moment of silence. Why wouldn't Tolbert keep talking? He nudged him again.
"What d'ya want, baby? I don't know what ya want," Tolbert sighed. Bud whined when he stopped again. "You want me t' talk t' ya? Is that it?"
After he stopped talking again, Bud gently hit him.
"Alright, ya don't have ta hit me. I'll talk if ya want me to. How 'bout a story, hm? It'll help ya sleep. Oh, let's see... what story could I tell ya?"
—
October 2007
Bud huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, looking up expectantly at Tolbert.
"What?"
"Tha's mean!" He smacked Tolbert's leg, earning a laugh from his older brother.
"Relax, Buddy. Didn't mean nothin' by it. I'm just sayin' that yer headaches might be caused by poor eyesight. Ain't nothin' wrong with needin' glasses, kiddo. A lotta people do."
"R'lly?"
"Yeah, really. How 'bout this... I'll get Mama or Poppy t' make ya an appointment, an' I'll take ya to it. Sound good?"
Bud nodded.
Shortly after receiving his hearing aids, Bud started to talk. He caught on fast and was up to the level a normal six-year-old was, and his family was proud of him. He hadn't started talking until he was almost three and he talked better than most at his age.
"Good. Now get yer butt t' bed." Tolbert gently smacked the back of Bud's head. "Mama'll kill me if I let ya stay up any longer."
—
December 2007
Bud wasn't happy in the least. He didn't like the glasses.
So, when he thought he could get by with it, he would take them off. Tolbert was never around when he did — that was the only way he could get by with it without getting in trouble.
With his glasses off, Bud sat on the floor in the living room in front of the coffee table, messing with a deck of cards that likely belonged to Tolbert.
"Bud McCoy!"
Bud jumped and whipped around, finding Tolbert.
"Git yer glasses back on!"
"But they hurt my head," he whined.
"'Cause ya ain't used to 'em," Tolbert softened his voice while he knelt down next to him. "Ya've gotta wear 'em t' get used t' 'em or your head'll never stop hurtin' when ya put 'em on."
"I don't like 'em," he stated, turning his head back toward the coffee table.
"I don't care if ya like 'em. Ya need 'em."
Bud, thinking he could get by without Tolbert noticing what he was doing, brought his hands up to his ears.
"Uh-uh!" Tolbert exclaimed, grasping the boy's wrists and pulling them away from his ears. Bud huffed and pouted. "You get mad at me all you want. You're gonna wear your glasses and ya ain't gonna turn your hearin' aids down."
"But Tolbert," he groaned.
"Don't ya but Tolbert me. Ya need yer glasses, Buddy. An' ya look right handsome with 'em on." Tolbert reached over, grabbing the red and blue frames. "Here, put 'em back on. The longer ya wear 'em, the better."
Bud reluctantly did as he was told. He hated his glasses. He didn't mind the hearing aids as much since he couldn't hear a single thing without them, but his glasses? He could see without them. Sure, it was blurry, but he could see.
"Don't like 'em," he grumbled.
"I know," Tolbert murmured sympathetically. "When ya get a little older, we'll get ya some contact lenses. Nobody'll even know you're wearin' them. Yer just a little too young t' use those right now, so you're stuck with the glasses. You'll get used to 'em."
Bud reached up toward his ear again. Tolbert caught his wrist.
"Stop that!"
—
May 2016
Bud sat in the nurse's office, tapping his foot. He was (impatiently) waiting for someone to pick him up since he was sick, and he just couldn't make it through the rest of the school day. He didn't know who the nurse had called, but he assumed it was one of his parents or Tolbert. They were the only ones that they ever called since they all had the habit of answering their phones when the school called.
So when Ran'l walked into the office, he was a little surprised. Ran'l usually sent Sally after him since he had a timbering company to run, and Ran'l hardly ever came down to the school to pick him up.
Bud didn't pay attention to the conversation he had with the nurse. He kept his eyes focused on his father, who was dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans with his sneakers. Ran'l hardly ever dressed like that.
"C'mon, son."
Bud stood up, a wave of dizziness washing over him. He stumbled into Ran'l, who tightly gripped his son's arms to keep him upright.
"Sorry, sorry. Got dizzy," he mumbled.
"It's okay. Ya good now?" Ran'l lowered his voice to a whisper. Bud nodded. "A'ight. Let's getcha home, Buddy."
He followed his father to his beat-up cobalt blue pickup truck, getting in on the passenger side. He set his backpack in the floorboard, looking over at Ran'l while he turned the key.
"So... we need t' make a stop at MedExpress or not?" Ran'l queried. He trusted his son's judgment and wouldn't force him to go unless he felt that Bud absolutely needed to.
"Nah," Bud shook his head. "I'll jus' go home. I think I can sleep it off."
"Ya looked awful shocked t' see me. I take a day off too, ya know. I don't work seven days a week."
"Thought Sunday was yer day off," Bud mumbled, shifting slightly.
"No. I take one day, jus' like the rest of ya do," Ran'l chuckled. "Tolbert's workin' in my place t'day."
"Mmm..."
"Did ya feel alright this mornin'?" Ran'l glanced at his youngest son.
"Not really, no."
"Why didn't ya say somethin'?"
"Thought it was jus' my allergies actin' up," Bud shrugged lightly. "It wa'n't this bad this mornin'. It was just... I felt stuffy, y'know?"
"Yeah, I know what ya mean," Ran'l nodded. Bud sneezed and coughed shortly after. "Bless ya."
"Thank ya," he grumbled.
"Oh, don't be gettin' grumpy. We'll give ya some medicine n put ya t' bed once we get home."
"Poppy, the only thing we have is NyQuil."
"An' it'll help you sleep."
"That's fair."
Ran'l breathed a laugh and shook his head. Bud had the tendency to get hateful and clingy when he was sick, and from the looks of it, he would hit the hateful stage first.
"My head hurts, Poppy."
"I'm sorry, son. We'll be home in a few minutes."
"Would it be wrong t' take my hearin' aids out b'fore I go in? Don't think I can handle all the noise."
"You do what you think's best. I won't stop ya."
"Poppy?"
"Yes, Bud?"
"Yer amazin'."
—
Bud sighed as they pulled in the driveway, turning off his hearing aids before taking them out. He could see Ran'l laughing, and promptly signed: Shut up.
That only made his father laugh harder. Bud rolled his eyes and unbuckled his seatbelt, sliding out of the truck and grabbing his backpack. He closed the door and made his way to the front porch, where his mother was standing with her broom, obviously taking a break from her daily chores.
He signed a hello, earning a strange look. He opened his hand, allowing her to see the hearing aids, and she nodded, understanding why he was signing instead of talking.
Ran'l placed a hand on Bud's shoulder, explaining what was going on to Sally before leading the boy inside. He went upstairs to his room, putting his backpack in the corner before crossing to his nightstand, laying the hearing aids on it before taking his contacts out.
He moved to his dresser, pulling out a pair of basketball shorts and changing into them, tossing his shirt and his jeans into the hamper. Feeling a tap on his shoulder, he turned around, finding Ran'l with a dose of NyQuil. He pulled a face and reluctantly took it, making a disgusted face, much to his father's amusement.
He shuffled to his bed and got in it, pulling the covers up to his shoulder before he turned on his side. Ran'l ruffled his hair before leaving the room, leaving Bud alone.
—
"Flip a coin?" Calvin suggested while looking at Jim.
"Sure. I call tails."
"Heads."
"What're you two doin'?" Pharmer asked, leaning against the doorway.
"Seein' who has t' take care of Bud. He's in a mood that could put Tolbert's bad moods t' shame," Calvin informed him, digging a quarter of out his pocket.
"What makes it worse is that he took his hearin' aids out, so we have no idea what he wants. He won't even sign to us," Jim added.
"You two are bein' ridiculous," Pharmer remarked, rolling his eyes. "This is Bud we're talkin' about."
"Yeah, an' he's hateful."
"You would be too if you were sick."
"Tolbert can handle him when he's like this. Where's he?"
"He went home. He don't know Bud's sick an' we're gonna try t' keep it that way. Poppy's hopin' he sleeps whatever it is off."
"So he leaves us with him?" Calvin remarked dryly.
"Oh, quit yer whinin'. You should know by now that he gets hateful n clingy when he's sick." Pharmer crossed the room, gently shaking Bud's shoulder.
He blinked a few times, his eyes focusing on Pharmer and his brows furrowing. Pharmer motioned for him to scoot over, and he did, allowing Pharmer to lie down before curling up against him and humming.
"Unbelievable," Calvin muttered under his breath.
"Looks like yer stuck for the night, Pharmer," Jim snorted.
"I don't care. If he ain't no better t'morrow... who wants t' tell Tolbert?"
Jim and Calvin looked at each other. Neither one of them really wanted to tell Tolbert. Tolbert was extremely protective of Bud, and he'd kill whoever told him if he found out they'd known about it for two days.
Tolbert had always been that way. He'd told a bunch of children and teenagers off more than his brothers could count, but he didn't care. They had been making fun of Bud and picking on him, and he didn't care if they were in the church parking lot or not. If they were stupid enough to make fun of Bud or pick on him, Tolbert didn't care to put them in their place.
Tolbert had told a few of the adults off too and was marked as rude, but he didn't care. No one made fun of Bud and his inability to hear. They especially didn't do it when he was around to hear it. It never ended well for them if he was.
So really, Calvin and Jim felt their reasoning for not wanting to tell Tolbert was justified. Tolbert had the tendency to lose his temper when he found out they'd been hiding something from him — more specifically, he got angry when he found out they hadn't told him something about his little brother. Neither one of them wanted to be on the receiving end of Tolbert's anger (mostly because they couldn't get him to calm down like Bud and their parents could).
"So... flip a coin?" Calvin asked while scratching the back of his neck. Jim nodded.
—
Tolbert was there the next morning and found it odd that he hadn't seen Bud. Pharmer came downstairs later than usual, and he kept glancing at Calvin, who looked like he wanted to curl up and die.
"Where's Bud?" Tolbert asked once everyone else had taken their seat at the table.
"He's in bed," Ran'l responded. "He ain't feelin' very well."
"He did put his hearin' aids back in this mornin'," Pharmer spoke up. "But that wasn't done without a argument. That boy can sign ridiculously fast, by the way."
Tolbert laughed and shook his head. They hadn't started breakfast and he could still get out of it, so he excused himself and went upstairs, entering Bud's room.
"Hey, kid."
"Mm? Oh, 'ey," Bud forced a small smile.
Tolbert closed the door and walked over to him, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling his fingers through his thick locks of honey-brown hair.
"You feelin' any better?"
"Not really, no," Bud mumbled. "Pharmer stayed wit' me last night."
"Oh, did he?"
"Mhm." There was a pause. "Don't think Jim n Cal really wanted t' take care of me yes'day."
"Why?" Tolbert's brows pinched together.
"They got real frustrated 'cause my hearin' aids was out. Didn't wanna sign neither. I jus'... I dunno, Tol," Bud's voice was barely a whisper.
"Ah, ignore them. I don't care if ya got hearin' aids in or not. Yer sick n you should be comfortable."
"Mmph."
Tolbert watched the boy as he hummed and shifted.
"Please don't leave," he murmured after a minute. "I don't wanna be alone."
"I won't," Tolbert assured him. "I'll stay as long as ya want me to."
—
Bud eventually dozed off again. He was running a slight fever, but it wasn't anything to be too concerned about. It was barely above the normal temperature, and Tolbert felt that it wasn't anything he should freak out over.
So with a cold washcloth laying across his forehead, Bud seemed to be sleeping soundly. Tolbert certainly wasn't complaining. Bud seemed to think that most of the family was mad at him because he didn't have his hearing aids in the day before while they took care of him, and he was an emotional mess.
Bud had always been that way. He had extremely low self-esteem and he was extremely self-conscious. Tolbert didn't know the reason why; Bud had never told him the reason for it, but he confided everything else to Tolbert.
Well... everything except the fact he was being bullied, but since that was the reason for his low self-esteem and self-consciousness, he felt that it counted as that.
Tolbert sighed and glanced up at the boy, who was still sleeping, before focusing on the screen again. Accounting wasn't his favorite thing, but he didn't mind the extra money it gave him. While all five McCoy boys split working the office, Tolbert was the one who did the accounting and took most of the orders. The orders that he didn't take were either taken by Ran'l or Bud, who worked the office more often than not because Ran'l didn't want the fourteen-year-old up around the mill.
Bud had been eager to start working for the company, and while he couldn't legally, Ran'l still paid him just as much as he did the other boys. He acted as the secretary more often than not, filing papers and answering the phone for them while they cut and stacked lumber on the hill. (All it had taken for Ran'l to agree was Bud continuously hanging out in the office for three weeks straight during the summer.)
The most Bud was allowed to do at the mill was change a belt or stack and label lumber, and that was only when one of his brothers insisted on working in the office. Tolbert had been the one to teach him everything he knew thus far, and he had no qualms with teaching the boy everything he knew about the company. Bud was one that liked to learn and he caught on fast, which made it a lot easier for all involved.
Bud groaned and stirred in his sleep, his eyes fluttering open after a second. Tolbert could tell he still didn't feel well, but he got up, catching the cloth as it fell off of his forehead before shuffling toward the door.
"Where you goin'?" Tolbert asked.
"Bathroom."
Tolbert hummed. He should've guessed that.
Bud bumped into the doorway, scowled, moved over a little and continued on his way out of his room. Tolbert chuckled and shook his head.
"Sure ya don't need glasses," he remarked under his breath, despite knowing the boy was likely out of earshot.
Bud came back a moment later, climbing onto his bed and sighing.
"I don't feel good," he complained.
"I know. Have ya ate anything?"
"...No."
"You want some soup or somethin'? I'll make ya somethin'."
"Soup's fine. I haven't thrown up yet n I really don't want to, so let's not risk it," Bud forced a smile. Tolbert laughed a little, closing his laptop and standing. He set it in the chair (which happened to be the one from Bud's desk) and started to leave the room.
He was less than surprised when Bud followed him. Apparently, they'd dealt with him being hateful the night before, and now he was just clingy and would follow whoever was taking care of him around like a lost puppy. Tolbert didn't mind it — it was just how Bud was when he got sick.
They walked into the kitchen, finding Sally and Roseanna, who blinked in surprise when she saw her younger brother.
"Sit down," Tolbert murmured softly so only Bud could hear it. He did as he was told while Tolbert moved toward the cabinets, grumbling under his breath while searching for the soup.
"This what yer lookin' for?" Sally spoke up behind him.
Tolbert turned around, seeing his mother holding a can of tomato soup.
"Yeah, that's it," Tolbert grumbled. "Thank ya, Mama."
"Don't mention it, Tol." She smiled and patted his shoulder.
A comfortable silence filled the kitchen, none of the four people occupying it daring to say a word. Bud looked like he was half-asleep and Roseanna noticed, but she didn't say anything. Bud would stay awake, she knew he would. He wouldn't have gotten up if he wasn't planning on eating.
"You feelin' any better, baby?" Sally asked him, directing her attention to him.
Bud shook his head. He wasn't any better and he couldn't understand why. Bud usually had the capability to sleep off whatever sickness he'd caught, but it didn't seem to be the case this time around.
"I'll go out t'day n get ya somethin' better than NyQuil. I knows ya don't like that stuff, so I'll try t' find somethin' diff'rent."
"Thanks, Mama."
"Yer welcome, baby."
—
Bud was back to normal by the end of the week. Or at least, he was somewhat back to normal. Tolbert had been caught off guard when Bud came downstairs with his glasses on.
"What?" Bud snapped.
"Why're ya wearin' yer glasses?"
"I'm outta contacts," he sighed tiredly, sitting down on the couch beside Tolbert. "Thought I had more than what I did. Now I've gotta wear these stupid nerdy things t' school."
"It won't be too bad. Ya look real smart with 'em on. Ya look right handsome, too."
"Stop it," Bud growled.
"I'm jus' tryin' t' compliment you," Tolbert defended himself.
"Don't. Ain't no compliments for the way I look right now. I hate these stupid things."
"I know ya do."
"Goin' deaf wa'n't bad enough, I had t' get bad eyesight too. Forced t' wear hearin' aids an' glasses, an-an' I hate 'em both. I really do," he ranted, sounding like he was on the verge of tears.
"Bud—"
"Sorry, I'm sorry. It's just a bad day."
Tolbert rubbed his back, not saying so much as a word. Bud didn't complain, keeping his eyes closed and his head hung low.
"I'm sorry I got s' hateful," he said after a moment or two.
"Don't worry 'bout it, Buddy. It's fine."
—
December 2016
Bud was on the verge of a breakdown. He knew he was. Something wasn't right inside of him and he was about to snap. He didn't know what was wrong with him or why he felt the way that he did, but he kept going. He acted like he was fine, but he was almost certain Tolbert was catching on.
On the first Friday of December, he went to Tolbert's house after school. He'd had a rough day — no thanks to stupid William Johnson and his friends — and he wasn't in the best of moods. So he went to his room in hopes of avoiding a breakdown.
If Tolbert found out about the bullying, he probably wouldn't want to hang out with him. Why would he? Tolbert was always taking up for himself and for Bud and Bud couldn't even stand up to someone his age. He let him insult him, let him hit him, let him tell him that he was worthless, unloved, that he was too fat and a disgusting pig, and that he was a waste of space.
Bud wasn't strong like Tolbert was. Tolbert was much stronger than he was and he couldn't let Tolbert know that. He had to act like he was much stronger than he actually was. Bud wasn't sure how much longer he could keep it up.
What no one knew was that Bud had broken the full body mirror he had at home in his room that morning. He'd cleaned the glass up and left the frame hanging on the back of the door, hoping and praying Sally wouldn't notice. She would just go buy him a new one and he didn't want it. He didn't want to look at himself every time he went to open the door.
He shook his head while he sat down at his desk, trying to stay as silent as possible. A thought crossed his mind, and he hated himself for ever thinking of it.
What if Tolbert hated him?
It wasn't a pleasant thought by any means. Tolbert was his favorite brother and Bud loved him dearly. He probably loved him more than he should've, but he'd never cared. Tolbert was his older brother who had always taken up for him without a second thought, and to think that Tolbert hated him nearly sent Bud diving head-first into a breakdown.
Bud needed Tolbert. Tolbert was the one person Bud completely trusted, and he just couldn't lose him. Not when Bud was so close to having a breakdown. He didn't know why he was going to have a breakdown but he knew he was going to.
"Buddy? Hey, you wanna get some pizza n have a movie night?" Tolbert asked, leaning against the doorway.
"Yeah, sure," Bud nodded.
"A'ight. Is somethin' wrong, Buddy?"
"No," he denied instantly. "I'm fine."
"I'll let ya know when pizza's here."
—
Bud didn't eat more than half a slice of pizza. Tolbert found that strange since the boy usually ate two or three slices, but he didn't say anything. Bud was always honest with Tolbert and he told him practically everything, so he had no reason to believe Bud wouldn't come to him if something was wrong.
"Tolbert, I... I got homework," Bud muttered as he got up, leaving Tolbert alone in the living room.
Tolbert found that strange too. Bud never did his homework on Friday. He did it Sunday evening. That was the way Bud always did his homework on weekends. He enjoyed Friday and Saturday, then worked on it on Sunday.
So Tolbert turned off the TV and sighed as he gathered the paper plates and took them to the kitchen, tossing them in the trash. He went back to the hallway, walking to Bud's room and gently knocking on the door.
"It's open."
Tolbert opened the door and closed it behind him.
"You okay?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" Bud pulled a confused face, looking up at Tolbert.
"You're actin' strange," Tolbert answered, shrugging lightly as he moved to Bud's bed and sat on the edge of it. "Ya never do homework on Friday."
"Have more than usual," Bud fibbed, his heart thundering against his rib cage.
Oh God, Tolbert was catching on. He was going to figure it out and he wouldn't want Bud to be around him anymore and—
"Kid, I can hear you thinkin' all the way over here. What's eatin' ya up?"
"Nothin'," he responded harshly.
"Bud, I know you. I know when somethin's wrong," Tolbert stated in a soft voice.
"Nothin's wrong, Tolbert," Bud insisted, his voice trembling.
He couldn't be honest with him this time. Tolbert would see that they were right; that he was worthless and stupid and a disgusting pig. He didn't want that, he didn't want that at all and he just wanted to keep it all to himself. He was fine, he didn't need to bother anybody with his problems.
"Bud—"
"Stop it!" Bud yelled. "Just stop, okay?!"
He stood up, knocking the chair down on accident. He didn't bother to pick it up, though. He started to pace.
"I don't — God, ya don't get it. There's — there's something about me that makes ev'rybody hate me. I don't know what it is and I'm tryin' my best t' keep everyone from hatin' me, but I don't think it's doin' much good. I... oh God, he was right. He was right, oh my God."
"Bud..." Tolbert got up and walked over to him, gently placing his hands on Bud's shoulders. "What in the world are ya talkin' 'bout, Buddy? No one hates ya."
"Yes they do, oh my God, they do. He—he was right, oh God," Bud heaved a sob.
"Bud, darlin', what are you talkin' about? Who is he?"
"William."
"Johnson?"
"Yeah, yeah that's him."
"That jerk that made fun of you in front of me that once? I doubt he's right about anything, Buddy."
"But he is, Tolbert, he is! I... I try, y'know? I try my hardest to keep my mouth shut and just take it. He's said so many things n they're all true. I mean, look at me, Tol. Mama n Poppy gave me Poppy's name an' I ain't done a single thing t' make them proud of me. Heck, Tol, they don't even want me anymore."
"Bud—"
"They don't! They don't want me, Tolbert, and I can't blame 'em for it. I ain't done nothin' but cause trouble an—an' they don't deserve any of that. They deserve t' have a son much better than me. They need someone way better than me."
"There's nothin' wrong with you. We love ya jus' the way ya are."
"Don't say that, please," Bud's voice dropped to a whisper. "That means ya care, an' ya really shouldn't care about me."
"Why not?" Tolbert inquired, deciding it would be best to find out why Bud felt that way.
"Look at me. I'm not good enough for them," Bud let out a bitter laugh. "I'm not good enough for anybody. Heck, Tolbert, I'm — I'm too tall, I'm too fat, I'm stupid and I'm worthless, and—and no one seems ta get that. I can't do nothin' t' make Mama n Poppy proud of me. Got yelled at the other day 'cause I'm failin' again. I just — I can't make my grades come back up. I don't know what's wrong with me."
Tolbert was starting to figure it out. Bud was having a breakdown in front of him and he wasn't sure the boy even realized it. He didn't know how long Bud had been holding everything in, but he was starting to piece together why Bud had busted that mirror in his room.
Sally had called him and told him about what she'd found in his room, had sounded like she was on the verge of tears, and had wondered if he was mad at her over something. Tolbert assured her that that wasn't the case; that Bud wouldn't break something Sally had paid a pretty penny for because he was mad at her. It had to be something else.
What hadn't helped with that was the fact that Ran'l and Sally had been having trouble with Bud and his attitude. He snapped at them and talked back, he would ignore them and go on to his room, slamming and locking the door behind him, and he would just disappear. No one knew what was wrong with him. He had even bit Roseanna's head off when she had accidentally bumped into him. The whole family knew something was wrong with Bud. He shut everybody out and snapped the instant he felt they were too close. Tolbert couldn't figure out what was wrong with him.
And now he knew. Bud had been about three steps away from a breakdown when he broke that mirror. Bud had been trying his hardest to keep it all together, and he couldn't do that if they were constantly pestering him. The McCoys were a family that believed in tough love; they constantly picked on each other and insulted each other, and now Tolbert was thinking that maybe they'd insulted Bud a little too much.
"Bud... what'd ya break yer mirror for?" Tolbert asked softly.
"I couldn't look at it anymore. Ain't nothin' but a failure anyways, why remind myself of that every time I go to open my door? I can't — oh God, Mama's mad at me, ain't she? She — she... Oh God, Tolbert, I've never had Mama mad at me b'fore."
He was silent for a moment, his eyes widening as he paled and realized that Sally would have told Ran'l about it by now.
"Oh my God, Poppy. Poppy's gonna be mad at me! Oh God, I don't — I don't want the belt again, Tolbert. Oh God, what have I done? Poppy's gonna kill me! I can't — I can't go home. I can't, I won't — oh my God, what am I gonna do?"
"Bud, hey, calm down—"
"I'd rather die than go home. That — that could work. I can get out of ev'ryone's way that way n no one'll care or miss me, or—"
"Hey, stop that!" Tolbert raised his voice. Bud blanched and took a step back. "Don't ya talk like that."
"I... I just couldn't look at it anymore and oh my God, Poppy's gonna kill me. I ain't gonna be able t' take whatever's gonna happen at home, Tol. Jus—jus' give me a few days n I swear I'll be outta your hair. I swear to ya, I will be. I just — I don't want t' live anymore. I don't! I've tried n tried, an' nothin's ever changed about any of this! I can't take anymore! I just — I just can't, Tolbert, don't you understand that?! Don't ya understand I can't handle anythin' else?!"
"Woah, Bud, calm down!"
"I don't wanna calm down! I don't wanna live!" Bud moved and tugged at his hair. "I don't — I don't wanna see my stupid reflection! My stupid, stupid reflection!"
He swiped everything off of the top of his dresser. The little glass figurine that he had bought in Logan shattered. Bud didn't seem to notice what he was doing. He swiped everything off of his desk as well, sending everything on it to the floor. Before Tolbert could realize what he was doing, Bud moved to the door and hit the mirror as hard as he could with his fist.
Tolbert forced himself to move and hooked his arms under Bud's shoulders, pulling him back. He'd hit the mirror a few times by then, his knuckles split and bleeding. He moved in front of Bud and tightly wrapped his arms around him.
Bud burst into a sob, wrapping his arms around Tolbert and burying his face in Tolbert's shoulder. His hands clenched the fabric of Tolbert's shirt.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he muffled into his shoulder. "Please don't get mad at me. I'm so sorry."
"Hey, hey, it's okay," Tolbert cooed. "Breathe, Buddy. You've gotta breathe."
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I'm not b-better, Tol'ert, 'm sorry! I won't — I won't do it, I promise I won't, please—please don't be mad at m-me," he pleaded.
"I'm not mad, Buddy, I'm not mad at all. Oh God, you scared me," Tolbert breathed, planting a kiss on his baby brother's temple. Bud clung tightly to Tolbert, who held him while he cried. "It's okay, I promise it's okay."
"I'm s' sorry."
"You're okay, it's okay. It's okay, Buddy, I promise."
—
Tolbert sat on the floor with Bud, who had cried until he couldn't anymore. Bud was curled up against him, one hand clenching the fabric of Tolbert's shirt while his head rested against Tolbert's shoulder. He blankly stared at the bed, blinking slowly.
Tolbert held him. He cupped the boy's cheek, causing him to look at him before gently rubbing it with the pad of his thumb.
The door to Bud's room opened, causing Tolbert to look up, seeing Roseanna.
"Watch where ya step. There's glass over there."
Roseanna opted to lean against the doorway, watching Tolbert while he rubbed Bud's cheek.
"What are you two doin' in the floor?"
"I'm gettin' ready t' put him t' bed."
Tolbert stood and lifted the boy, carrying him to his bed and laying him on it, covering him up.
"I'm gonna go getcha somethin' t' drink and the vacuum, alright?"
Bud caught Tolbert's wrist, his eyes pleading with him to stay.
"I'll be back in a minute or two, I promise."
That seemed to appease him. He released Tolbert's wrist and tucked his arm against his chest. Tolbert sighed before leaving the room, Roseanna following him. He went to the kitchen first, opening the fridge and grabbing a Gatorade.
"What happened?" Roseanna asked.
"Keep yer voice down," Tolbert mumbled. "Rose... I swear, he just had a breakdown. I don't know if it was mental or nervous or what, but that boy in there just had a breakdown. I don't know if I'll be able to handle him doin' it again. He's wore himself out n I know he's gonna do it again after he rests up."
"What're ya gonna do?"
"I don't know, I dunno," Tolbert shook his head. "I'm only gonna tell Mama n Poppy 'bout it. Lord knows they'll know what t' do. They always do. I just... oh God, Rose, ya shoulda heard some of the things he told me."
"Bad?"
"Really bad," Tolbert nodded. "I'm gonna let William Johnson have it the next time I see him."
"Tolbert, you can't hit him. He's a minor."
"That's why I have younger brothers."
Roseanna rolled her eyes.
"It's really not why you have younger brothers, but whatever."
They returned to Bud's room after grabbing the vacuum, finding that the boy had moved to the far side of the bed and turned onto his side, his back facing the door.
"I'll clean this up," Roseanna spoke softly. "You go help him."
"Not sure I can help much," Tolbert muttered under his breath. He moved to the bed, setting the Gatorade on the nightstand before getting in it.
Bud didn't say a word; he just turned over and scooted closer to Tolbert, letting his older brother wrap his arms around him. They laid there for a few moments, Tolbert rubbing the boy's back while Roseanna vacuumed the shattered glass by the doorway.
"Oh, shoot!" Tolbert exclaimed, getting up and running out of the room.
Bud started to get up as well but was stopped by Roseanna.
"Here, I'll stay here with ya. Don't know where he's goin' or what he's doin', but I'll stay here."
He nodded slightly, laying down again. Roseanna laid down beside him, not minding it when Bud scooted closer and placed his head on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her. He stared at the wall and the door, but he didn't say anything.
Roseanna pulled her fingers through Bud's hair, but it didn't seem to make any difference in his state. It was almost like Bud wasn't even there. He stayed silent and stared blankly at the wall. Roseanna wasn't sure what had caused him to have a breakdown, but she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know either.
"Rosie..." His voice was raspy, his eyes still focused on the wall across the room.
"Yes, Bud?"
"I think Tol hates me," he admitted quietly.
"Why d' ya think that, Buddy?"
"Don't think he'll wanna be 'round me too much after what I did."
"Tolbert doesn't hate you," Roseanna stated. "He's worried 'bout ya, but he don't hate ya, Buddy."
"Yes, he does. Oh God, Rosie, he hates me," Bud cried. "He—he hates me n 's all my fault. I shoulda — shoulda jus' kept it all t' myself. Oh God, what'd I do?"
"Hey, hey, Tolbert doesn't hate you. I promise he doesn't."
She didn't know where Tolbert had gone or why he'd left as quickly as he did, but she hoped he would be back soon.
—
Tolbert walked into the dining room, finding his mother and father at the table.
"I'm so sorry, Poppy, I forgot all about it," Tolbert blurted the second his eyes landed on his father. "I was... ya know what, I'll tell ya somewhere more private. Both of ya. Ya need t' know 'bout this."
"Office," Ran'l mumbled.
"Yeah, that works."
They went to the office of the timbering company. Tolbert closed and locked the door behind them, just to ensure no one else could get in. He moved and leaned against the filing cabinet while his parents sat down.
"I'm real sorry, Poppy. I forgot all about the meetin'. But... but I figured out what's been wrong with Bud." Tolbert tried to start it off in a way that would sort of soften the blow. He didn't want to tell his parents that he'd witnessed his baby brother have a breakdown, but he didn't have much of a choice.
"What?" Sally asked.
"Mama, he ain't mad at you. He ain't mad at nobody. He — oh God, he had a breakdown. Don't really know if it was mental or emotional or-or what it was, but it was a breakdown. He thinks y'all are mad at him."
"Oh my God," Ran'l breathed. "That ain't the worst part, is it?"
Tolbert shook his head. It really wasn't. Bud had confessed a lot to him after he finally broke down and started crying, and Tolbert was still trying to process most of it.
"Bud's in a real dangerous mindset right now," Tolbert spoke quietly. "He... thinks y'all don't want him. He said he can't blame ya for it, that you deserve a better son than him. He's got it in his mind that y'all regret him n regret givin' him Poppy's name. He swears he don't do nothin' but cause trouble an' right now, right now he won't listen t' reason."
Tolbert stopped talking for a moment, casting his eyes to the floor and swallowing thickly.
"He... For a minute, he kept ramblin' on and on 'bout how he'd be outta my hair soon 'nough an' that he wouldn't be missed. He stopped, thankfully, an' promised me he wouldn't do anything. He's really scarin' me. All of this is because of William Johnson. Bud's been dealin' with it on his own for years 'cause he thought I'd think William was right and — and he just snapped, Poppy. Bud snapped."
"He say anything else?" Ran'l queried, wiping at his eyes.
"He said a whole lot," Tolbert nodded slightly. "He's got it in his mind that he's this hideous person an' I can't get him t' listen t' me. He busted that mirror b'cause he didn't want to look at himself every time he opened the door. He busted the one he has at my place, too. He did it in front of me n I managed t' stop him b'fore he did too much damage to his hand, but he... he broke it. He swiped ev'rythin' off his desk n his dresser; broke that little figurine he bought over in Logan that was made of glass."
"Oh my Lord," Sally murmured. "Is he alright? Ya didn't leave him there, did ya?"
"He's there with Roseanna," Tolbert assured her. "But... I don't think he's okay at all. He — he needs a few days t' get his wits about him, needs somethin' t' help him. I don't know how to help him this time."
"Oh my God," Ran'l mumbled. "He really thinks... we don't want him n we regret him?"
"Yeah, Poppy, he does," Tolbert responded, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't know how t' help him."
"He's got an appointment on Tuesday... doctor's 'pointment, that is. Hopefully, Doc will be able t' give him somethin' that'll help him."
"I don't know if he'll take it, Poppy."
"Well... reckon we hope he does. Or try t' talk him into it if he says no."
"Yeah... y'all wanna see 'im? Might help him a bit," Tolbert suggested.
"Yeah. You go on home. We'll be there in a few minutes."
—
By the time Ran'l and Sally got there, Tolbert had cleaned up the rest of the broken glass and had put everything back in its rightful place. He made a mental note to replace Bud's figurine as well, and hopefully, he did it before the boy noticed the other one was broken.
Bud was still blankly staring at the wall, refusing to move from his bed. Roseanna went home after Tolbert got back, and after explaining where he'd gone to Bud, Bud calmed down and returned to staring at the wall.
Ran'l and Sally entered the room, and Tolbert couldn't help but sigh when Bud didn't even acknowledge them.
"What's he doin', Tolbert?" Ran'l asked in a whisper, thinking that maybe the boy was sleeping but he was too far away to tell.
"What he's been doin' since I got back — starin' at the wall. He did it b'fore I left, too, but apparently he thought I hated him n ended up cryin' while I was gone."
"I'll go talk to him," Sally muttered.
"Good luck gettin' him t' say anythin'."
Sally crossed the room, bending down and brushing Bud's hair out of his eyes. He drew back, blinking.
"Mama?"
"Yeah, baby. Ya care if I lay down next t' ya?"
"No," he rasped, scooting so his mother could lay down beside him.
Bud would do whatever she said. She was probably mad at him anyway, so it wouldn't hurt to do what she asked. And while he sincerely doubted that his parents would ever hit him, he believed he deserved much more than them hitting him.
"C'mere," she instructed softly, extending her arm toward him. Bud curled up beside her, placing his head on her shoulder. "Y' think I'm mad at ya for bustin' yer mirror?"
Bud nodded mutely. He did think that. Sally had no reason not to be mad at him; it was an expensive mirror and the McCoys really didn't have the money to spare on it. But she'd bought it for him anyway, and she hadn't complained while she did it. And Bud had busted that mirror to pieces. Well... the glass of it, anyway.
"I'm not mad at ya, Bud. I'm worried, but I ain't mad."
"God, Mama, 'm s' sorry," he whimpered, a few tears rolling down his face. His eyes burned terribly but he couldn't stop the tears no matter how hard he tried. "'M real sorry."
"What're ya sorry for, baby?" Sally pulled her fingers through his thick locks of honey-brown hair.
"Sorry fer ev'rythin," he sniffled. "Ain't done nothin' but cause trouble m' whole life n I'm s' sorry I did."
"You ain't caused no trouble. If anythin', you're my little peacemaker. Ya try t' stop the fights; ya don't start 'em or join 'em, an' ya don't let 'em beat ya up neither. Ya don't like fightin' n ya don't like trouble, so how ya figure ya ain't don't nothin' but cause trouble, Buddy?"
"Caused a lotta trouble when I lost m' hearin'. Caused a lotta troubled when my eyes started actin' up, too. An—an' here lately, I've been real mean t' ev'rybody, Mama."
"I can see why. You was tryin' t' keep it t'gether, baby. Why didn't ya talk ta one of us? Ya know we won't tell no one if ya tell us to."
"Didn't wanna bother no one," he answered, his voice a shaky whisper. "Been dealin' with it on my own since fifth grade... I can handle it."
"Bud, honey, from what I heard about it, you can't anymore. Not on your own, at least. Heck, jus' vent t' one of us ev'ry day if ya want to, we don't care. Don't let it get this bad, baby."
"Y' keep callin' me baby."
"'Cause yer my baby. An' I love you very much, Buddy. Ya really think I don't want you?"
Oh God, she knew about that? He really didn't want to answer her question. He had no idea what her response would be to it and he would like to keep it that way. But given the fact that she had asked him, he didn't really have any other choice but to answer her.
"...Yeah."
"Why not?"
"Y' don't want me, Mama," he shook his head. "I... oh God, Mama, y' don't want me at all. Neither does Poppy."
"We want you, baby. Ya make us awful proud t' be yer parents, too."
"Ain't nothin' t' be proud of," he stated matter-of-factly, his voice no louder than a borderline murmur.
"Oh really?" Sally looked down at him.
"Mhm. Ain't ever done nothin' t' make y'all proud or-or t' make ya glad ya gave me Poppy's name. Y' shoulda gave it t' someone else."
"You're our youngest boy, honey. We can't give it t' one of the girls," she tried to joke.
"They do better than I do at makin' ya proud."
Sally breathed a sigh. She had never really had this conversation with any of her other children, so she didn't know how to go about it.
"You make me very proud. I'm glad God gave ya t' me. I'm glad the good Lord above thought I'd be the right one t' be your Mama."
"I can't do nothin' t' make you proud."
"You do. Ya made me proud of ya when ya was a baby, Bud. Ya started losin' yer hearin' when ya wasn't even a year old, and right after ya had jus' turned one, ya lost it completely. You was completely deaf 'til you were two, almost three, an' ya caught on t' talkin' real quick. We had doctors yellin' ya that ya might not talk right 'til ya was older, but you proved 'em wrong, baby. An' ya still make me proud of ya. It's real hard bein' deaf, I know it is, but ya go through life like nothin's wrong. Ya make me right proud of ya."
"Plenty of people do that, Mama," he argued weakly.
"An' those people ain't my baby boy," she countered, a soft smile appearing on her lips. "I love you, baby. You make me so proud t' be your Mama. I don't regret ya, an' I don't regret givin' ya yer Poppy's name, Bud. I bet yer Poppy agrees with me."
"No," he said firmly. "Poppy ain't proud of me."
Sally glanced up at Ran'l, who exhaled deeply through his nostrils. He went to the other side of the bed, sitting down on the edge and placing a hand on Bud's arm. Bud shifted enough that he could look over his shoulder with ease, his expression morphing to one of horror when he saw Ran'l.
Oh God, he was in trouble, wasn't he? He was going to be in so much trouble that Ran'l wouldn't hesitate to use his belt, and Bud didn't want that.
He pushed himself up to a sitting position, his eyes never leaving his father. Sally got up and shuffled over to Tolbert, talking quietly with him. Bud made a distressed noise in the back of his throat when they left the room, leaving him alone with Ran'l.
"Relax, son. I'm not mad at ya."
Bud didn't fully believe that. He'd said a lot when he didn't know Ran'l was there, and he wished he never would have said it. He fought to keep his breathing steady. He wouldn't show how scared he truly was.
"Bud, I'm not mad. I'm not gonna... I'm not gonna hurt ya," Ran'l stumbled over his words. He reached out and cupped Bud's cheek. Bud nearly flinched away from him, but managed to catch himself before he did.
"'M sorry, Poppy," he whispered, his eyes filling with tears.
"Don't 'pologize, son. It's okay," Ran'l assured him, gently rubbing his face.
Bud closed his eyes and subconsciously leaned into his father's touch.
"'M real sorry. I... I know I cause a lot of trouble."
"Ya really don't, youngin'. Yer one of my best kids. Hardly ever have any trouble outta you," Ran'l chuckled a little, watching his youngest son as he opened his eyes again.
"Ya prob'ly don't want me an' ya prob'ly wish ya'd given yer name t' someone else, an—an' that's okay, 'cause you should feel that way. Ain't never done nothin' t' make you proud of me or yer choice t' give me yer name. I know I ain't who ya want me t' be, that y-you want me t' be more like you, an' I try, Poppy, I do. I try so hard t' make you proud of me. I just — I can't."
"Buddy, you don't have to try to make me proud of ya. I already am."
Ran'l moved to where he leaned against the headboard.
"C'mere, son."
Bud did as he was told. He leaned against his father's shoulder, anxiously picking at his nails. Ran'l gently scratched Bud's scalp, earning a hum from the boy.
"You mad at me, Poppy?" Bud questioned, looking up at his father.
"No."
"I've been real mean lately," he confessed quietly. "Talked back t' you and Mama, an—an' I bit Rosie's head off. Snapped at y'all and ignored ya... I slammed my door and locked it n you got so mad. I'm so sorry."
"Don't worry 'bout none of that. I'm more worried 'bout you thinkin' I don't want ya."
"Ain't no reason for you t' want me," he shrugged.
"You're our peacemaker," Ran'l started, wrapping his arm around his son. "Jim's a peacemaker too, but he's got a temper on him. If he gets mad or upset, he don't even try with the peacemakin'. He goes straight t' fight. But you, Bud, try t' make peace no matter how mad ya are. Yer my level-headed son, an' I know ya had t' get your temperament from yer Mama. Ain't no way you got that from me. I'm as hot-headed as Tolbert is."
Bud huffed in amusement. Ran'l wasn't wrong — he and Tolbert were practically the same when it came to their temperaments.
"You're my youngest boy an' my namesake. Ya got a good heart n a good soul. Yer a good-lookin' boy, too. Don't ya let anyone ever tell ya that me n yer Mama don't want ya or that we regret ya. It ain't so. We love ya very much, and we don't want you. We need you. Life wouldn't be right without you, son."
"You just tryin' t' make me feel better?"
"No. I wouldn't ever lie to ya, Buddy. Wanna know somethin' about ya that I admire?"
"Sure."
"Yer determination. Once ya set your mind on somethin', it's practically impossible t' talk you outta it. Like when ya decided ya wanted t' start workin' for the comp'ny an' ya hung out in the office for three weeks and pestered me about it. Ya didn't give up even though I told you no several times every day for three weeks. Ya didn't stop an' ya got the job. Even if I was payin' you in cash 'cause you was technically too young t' be workin' then."
"I like workin' for the comp'ny," he mumbled. "Even if Pharmer got mad as Devil at me the other day. I misheard him so I labeled an order wrong. Threw us off schedule 'cause we had t' redo all the labels n rip off the ones I'd already put on there. I stayed late n fixed it, though. I didn't — I didn't jus' leave it 'cause we was jus' halfway done with takin' the old labels off when quittin' time rolled around."
"Ya shoulda said somethin'. I woulda helped ya."
"It was my fault anyways. I fixed it."
Ran'l looked at his son, whose eyes flicked up and met his.
"Ya make me right proud, Bud. I love ya."
"I love you too, Poppy."
—
Bud had been the same for the last four days. He stayed at Tolbert's place until Monday, constantly apologizing for busting the mirror and anything he did that he thought might have been wrong. When Tolbert dropped him off, he gave his parents a heads-up, just so they knew that Bud had gotten out of the melancholy mood he'd been in and was instead apologizing over everything.
And on Tuesday, Tolbert took him to the doctor. He'd left with results he didn't want, but there wasn't really anything he could do about it.
He'd been diagnosed with depression. Bud wasn't happy about it in the least and was starting to slip back into the melancholy mood he'd been in all weekend. Tolbert wasn't necessarily happy about that, but there wasn't much he could do.
So he led Bud into the pharmacy and dropped off the prescription. He slung an arm over Bud's shoulders after being told it would be about forty-five minutes before it was ready and led him outside again.
"We got time t' kill. What do ya wanna do, Buddy?"
He shook his head and shrugged.
"Alright then. You wanna d'cide what we're havin' for supper? I'll make ya whatever ya want."
Bud didn't want anything if he were to be honest. He just wanted to curl up in bed and stay there.
"Tell me somethin', kid," Tolbert said after they got in the truck.
"I reckon spaghetti's fine," Bud mumbled.
"A'ight. We'll go get the stuff t' make it while we wait. Buckle up, kiddo."
—
Bud had never really liked going to Walmart. It was always crowded and people always had the tendency to stare at him for no good reason, and it made him uncomfortable.
He didn't mind it as much when he was following Tolbert through the aisles, the latter trying to locate the sauce that was needed to make spaghetti.
"Watch out, floor's wet," Tolbert told him. Bud nodded.
Tolbert kept walking, his eyes scanning the shelves. His foot must have hit a slick spot, because the next thing Bud knew, Tolbert was on the ground and he was rolling with laughter.
"Are — are y-ou okay?" he managed to force the words out between spurts of laughter.
"Fine," Tolbert remarked dryly.
That made Bud laugh harder. He drew in a deep breath, only to start laughing again.
"It's not that funny."
"It—it really is," he laughed, moving and extending his hand to Tolbert. "Oh God, that was funny."
"It really wasn't," Tolbert rolled his eyes, grabbing hold of Bud's hand and letting him pull him to his feet. "If that's all it takes to get a smile out of you, next time I'll shove Calvin to the floor or something."
Bud started laughing again.
"There's — there's what ya were lookin' for," he chuckled, pointing to the shelf. He wiped at his eyes, a few giggles escaping.
"Thanks. It wasn't that funny, Bud."
"It really was."
"Whatever."
—
February 2017
Bud looked up as Ran'l entered the office, raising a brow.
"Yer wearin' yer glasses?"
"Mhm. Don't care t' wear 'em out here. Not t' mention my contacts were startin' t' bother me, so..."
"Ah. Anyways, I got another order for ya."
"Oh God," Bud groaned. "Hang on."
He got up, shuffling around to find the sheet he needed. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, letting out a small noise once he'd found the sheet. He sat down again and grabbed a pen.
He quickly dated it — after double-checking the date on his phone — and looked up expectantly at Ran'l. Ran'l gave him the details and Bud wrote it down in his (surprisingly) neat handwriting, and scrawled his signature on the bottom of it.
"Jim n them know 'bout it?"
"Nope."
"I'll let 'em know. Who worked the office last?"
"That would be Cal."
"Mkay. 'M gonna kill him, just so ya know," Bud said nonchalantly, standing and opening the filing cabinet.
"Why?" Ran'l's brows pinched together.
"He's messed everythin' up. I had it all nice n neat and now it's not. I'm gonna kill him. It took me three and a half weeks to get it all organized," Bud ranted, grabbing the file he needed. "So you can tell him if you want to. I don't care. But he's gonna be dead when I get my hands on him."
"Rough day?" Ran'l guessed.
"Real rough day," Bud sighed. "That obvious?"
"Well, you're swearin' you're gonna kill your brother. So yeah, it's that obvious."
The door opened again, Tolbert slipping inside and closing it behind him.
"Hate t' be the bearer of bad news, but somethin's wrong with the saw. Jim's tryin' t' figure out what it is, but we can't do nothin' for a while. Pharmer's stackin' the last bit of lumber we got cut b'fore it broke down, but I don't know what happened."
"I'll go up n look at it. Keep yer brother company."
Ran'l walked out of the office, leaving Tolbert and Bud alone.
"Hi," Bud greeted, scribbling what was needed on a small scrap of paper before slipping the sheet in the file. "Phillips placed an order."
"Frank Phillips?"
"Mhm. That dude Nancy's datin'," Bud confirmed. "I still think he's crazy."
"Well, most people from our part of the country is, Bud. We don't care t' fight people."
"He takes crazy to a whole new level," Bud amended his words, shooting Tolbert a look. "And why are you starin' at me?"
"You're wearin' your glasses. Ya look good."
"Don't get used to it. My contacts were botherin' me and I really don't need t' get my eyes infected right now, so I'll wear these. They ain't too bad when I'm home, ya know? It's just family n family don't care what I wear or what I look like. I just don't like wearin' 'em out in public."
"I still don't see why, but it's your choice. So, how ya doin'?"
Tolbert knew that Bud was still trying to adjust to the medicine he'd been given, and that he'd been struggling with his thoughts ever since he started taking them. Bud never breathed a word about it to Ran'l and Sally, though. He didn't want to worry them.
"Still strugglin'," he answered honestly. "Scared myself real good last night."
Tolbert gave him a sympathetic look, watching as his brother stood up and put the file back in the cabinet.
"You'd think I'd be used to it by now."
Tolbert pulled him into a hug, Bud wrapping his arms tightly around his brother.
"It'll lessen soon. I was readin' on it the other night. They said it won't completely eliminate them, but it'll help you with them. They also said it takes about two or three months to get used to 'em, and it's been about three months. It should be gettin' better for ya."
"I hope so."
Tolbert glanced at Bud, noticing how his hearing aid wasn't laying the way it usually was.
"What's wrong with your hearin' aid?"
"Hm? Oh, it screeched real bad earlier. At lunchtime, actually, and — and William was the one that caused it. He turned it up and it screeched so I pulled it out."
"My offer still stands."
"No. I am not lettin' you talk t' anyone about it. It won't do no good, Tolbert, I know it won't," Bud stated firmly.
"Alright, whatever," Tolbert shrugged. "I offered."
"And I respectfully declined. I appreciate the offer, but it won't do no good, Tol."
Tolbert shrugged, sitting down in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Bud sat down in his chair and scooted up, clicking his pen.
"You comin' t' my place t'day?"
"I can if you want me to."
"Yeah, come over. We'll play board n card games and we'll tell ghost stories. You make some good creepy ones."
"I try my best," Bud shrugged innocently. "They're not as good as yours, though."
"I dunno. Betcha Pharmer n Cal would disagree with ya if they ever heard your stories. Sometimes you creep me out with 'em, an' I'm not an easy person t' spook."
"I have many talents, Tol," Bud grinned sinisterly. "One of them happens to be creepin' you out."
"Quit grinnin' like that!"
—
"Your move, Tolbert," Bud drawled, leaning back against the couch. He watched Tolbert make his move and quirked a brow.
He was silent while he made his move, snatching Tolbert's piece off of the board.
"I win."
"You cheated."
"I did not cheat. You made your move, and it was a dumb one."
"Excuse me?" Tolbert blinked.
"You heard me. Ya made a dumb move. Why didn't you move the other way? Then I wouldn't've been able t' make that move."
"Sometimes I don't like you," Tolbert grumbled.
"Oh, you love me and you know it," Bud laughed. "What time is it?"
"Uh... around eleven, why?"
"I'm really tired. I'm goin' t' bed."
"Alright. Love ya, kid."
"Love you too, old man."
"HEY!"
—
Tolbert woke up to the sound of someone running down the hallway. He scooted back, and was less than surprised when Bud came running into his room. He climbed onto the bed and got as close as he could to Tolbert, breathing heavily with tears rolling down his face.
"I can't — I can't breathe."
"Yeah, ya can, Buddy. Here, gimme yer hand." Tolbert took his hand and laid it against his chest. "Do what I do, okay?"
Bud nodded. Tolbert took an exaggerated breath and held it until Bud took a breath. He exhaled and waited for Bud to do the same before taking another breath. The routine continued for a few moments, and when Bud could breathe again, he buried his face in the crook of Tolbert's neck.
"'M sorry," he mumbled. "I don't... I don't have those very often an' they usually ain't that bad."
"It's okay. I don't care if ya come runnin' in here."
"I know," Bud whispered. "I tried t' calm down on my own, but I just couldn't. Stupid nightmare threw me into it."
"Wanna talk 'bout it?"
"Not really."
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he nodded, "yeah, I'm fine."
Tolbert gently scratched the boy's scalp. Bud sighed in contentment. He didn't run to Tolbert very often anymore. He was trying to get out of the habit of running to him when he woke up from a nightmare at his house, but it wasn't working out very well. The last few times he had, he'd ended up having a panic attack and had run straight to Tolbert because he couldn't calm himself down.
"Sorry for botherin' you."
"Ya ain't botherin' me. Ya could never bother me, Buddy."
"Mm... I dunno. I seem t' bother people after a while."
"Don't focus on that right now. Focus on sleeping. You have school tomorrow."
"'Kay. Love you," he murmured.
"Love you too."
—
Bud always dreaded report cards. And when he got his back and read it... well, he freaked out a little. He had an F in every class and he didn't know why. He'd done his work, had checked it multiple times to ensure it was correct, and he was still failing.
"Wha—hey!" he exclaimed as the slip of paper was jerked out of his hands. "Give it back!"
"Relax, McCoy. I just want t' see it."
"Give it back! It's not yours, give it!"
William held his arm out, keeping Bud away from him while he read his report card.
"Oooh... gee, Bud, that's pretty bad," he chortled.
"Just give it back!" Bud demanded. He was getting sick and tired of William always doing this to him.
"What's your... your pappy — is that right? — gonna say when he sees this? All F's? God, Randolph, why can't ya be like yer brothers?"
"Don't bring Poppy int' it—"
"Poppy! That's it. Ya literally call yer father the name of a flower," William deadpanned, his friends laughing.
"It's what I've always called him. Give it back, William!"
"Oh my God, what would Tolbert think about this? Would he still think you're an intelligent person, Randolph?"
Bud bit the inside of his cheek, trying to refrain from saying anything that would earn him a beating. He hung his head and stretched his hand out.
"Give it back, please," he pleaded, his voice trembling.
The paper was placed in his hand and Bud spun on his heel, hurrying away from them. He could hear their laughter as he hurried out of the school, spotting Tolbert's truck in the parking lot.
Bud gulped and made his way over to it. What if they were right? What if Tolbert thought he was stupid and didn't want to spend time with him anymore? Tolbert's biggest pet peeve was stupidity. He couldn't stand it when people acted stupidly around him, and if Bud was stupid, well... Tolbert wouldn't want to be near him, would he?
Bud was silent as he got in the truck.
"Hey, Bud," Tolbert greeted with a smile.
"Hey," he muttered half-heartedly, buckling his seatbelt.
"What's the matter with you?" Tolbert queried almost instantly.
Bud handed the paper to Tolbert, turning his head away from him. He didn't want to see the disappointment on Tolbert's face. Bud fought back a whimper and forced his tears back. He would not cry.
"Bud—"
"I know," he interrupted, cutting him off.
"Bud, how—"
"I don't know!" he exploded. "I don't know, a'ight? Just — just take me home so I can get it over with."
Tolbert sighed, giving the paper back to him and shifting into reverse. He didn't say anything; Bud clearly didn't want him to. So he would take him home and he would stay silent while he did.
—
Bud wasn't looking forward to confronting Ran'l. Tolbert had dropped him off about five minutes ago, and Bud was trying to postpone what would surely be a reaction to remember as long as he could.
He was in his room, and was trying to decide if he wanted to get it over with or not. He always tried to make it quick and to the point. The sooner his father found out, the sooner Bud could take a good scolding. But Bud had tried so hard this semester, and he'd still failed.
So he picked up the paper on his desk and made his way downstairs. He cut through the kitchen and went out the back door, taking a deep breath as he made his way to the office.
Ran'l was going to kill him. Bud was certain of that much. His father wasn't going to be lenient about his grades. He never had been and he certainly wouldn't start just because Bud had depression. Depression meant nothing when it came to his schoolwork.
"Hey, Poppy," Bud forced the words out as he entered the office.
"Hey, Buddy. What're ya doin' in here? It's your day off."
"I know, I just..." Bud trailed off. He closed his eyes and swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the way his heart was racing and his stomach was twisting itself into knots. He wasn't ready for whatever reaction Ran'l was going to have.
"You just what?" Ran'l looked up at him.
"Please don't get mad," he whispered pleadingly.
"Why would I get mad?" His father blinked, not understanding why his son was acting so weird.
Bud hesitantly approached the desk and slid the paper onto it, sitting down in one of the chairs. He averted his gaze to the floor. He shouldn't have been scared. He knew Ran'l's policy, and Bud could never meet it when it came to his grades.
"Oh my God," Ran'l breathed. "Are ya serious?"
Bud hummed and nodded. He heard his father sigh heavily and he looked up at him, fear shining in his hazel eyes.
"Bud, I thought you told me it would be better this time."
"I thought it would be! I tried, I tried so hard, Poppy! I thought it would be better," Bud rambled nervously. "Pl-please don't get mad."
"Oh my God, Bud," Ran'l groaned exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't even know what I can do. Nothin' seems t' work with you. I can't ground you, 'cause that would mean ya don't have yer phone with ya at school and I don't like that. What can I possibly—"
Ran'l was cut off by his phone ringing. He answered it and spoke to whoever called him, leaving Bud feeling awkward. He hated that he'd disappointed Ran'l again, but Bud couldn't help it. He'd tried his best and even that wasn't good enough, apparently.
He caught his father glancing at him.
"Yeah, I know someone who'll go with ya. Uh-huh. You pick him up at eight. A'ight, see ya then."
Ran'l hung up and gave Bud a look.
"I think I figured it out."
Bud gulped. He didn't like the tone of Ran'l's voice.
"You are going to the gala your sister and cousin is attending tonight. Alifair will be here at eight t' pick you up."
"I — what?! Poppy, I ain't got nothin' t' wear to a gala!" Bud's voice rose to a high pitched squeak.
"Yes, you do. Wear one of your button-ups and your nice jacket. Just make sure it matches or Ali'll kill ya."
"Poppy, I'll work triple shifts, unpaid, if ya let me outta this—"
"No, Bud. Yer sister needs someone t' go with her an' you're that person."
Bud slumped in his seat, fighting back tears. He didn't want to go out in front of people. He didn't want to get stuck at some stupid gala that Alifair and Nancy decided to attend. If Nancy was there, that meant Frank was there, and Bud didn't like him.
It was nothing against the man; Bud just didn't like him. He struck Bud the wrong way and very few people did. Bud thought the man was a barbarian with his ways of thinking when it came to justice and he didn't want to be near him.
"Go get ready. Your sister will be here at eight."
—
"I don't wanna go, Tolbert," Bud sobbed into the phone.
"Then don't," Tolbert replied nonchalantly.
"I don't have a choice! Poppy's makin' me go t' that stupid gala."
"'Cause of yer grades?"
"Yeah," Bud sniffled. "I don't want t' go. I tried — I tried makin' a deal that I'd work triple shifts without pay and he still said no."
"Bud, your body can't handle a triple shift at the mill."
"I'd force it!" Bud retaliated. "I don't want t' go t' no stupid gala!"
"Bud, calm down. It's alright. Who are ya goin' with?" Tolbert asked.
"Ali."
"It won't be that bad if yer goin' with Ali—"
"Nancy's gonna be there too. And you know she's gonna bring Frank with her. I can't stand t' be around him, Tolbert."
"It's just for an hour, maybe two. Just talk to Alifair."
"You are literally no help," Bud remarked, slamming his hand against his desk.
"I can't do anything if it's a punishment, Bud. Though I don't see how sendin' you to a gala is a punishment."
"'Cause I hate interacting with people. It stresses me out."
"I know. Just talk t' Ali, okay?"
"Okay. Bye, Tol."
—
Alifair didn't know which of her brothers was being forced to attend the gala with her, but she was hoping and praying it wasn't Calvin. Calvin had the tendency to get mad and make it miserable, and she would rather have a good time.
So when Bud came out of the house dressed in a crisp white button-up shirt, a pair of slacks, his dress shoes, and his nicest black jacket, Alifair breathed a sigh of relief. He'd even slicked his hair back, and he had his glasses on. Alifair knew he wouldn't wear them if he didn't have to, so it didn't take much to figure out he'd run out of contacts again.
The closer he got to her Chevy Impala, the more she realized how upset he was. He didn't look happy at all, and if Alifair knew Bud as well as she thought she did, she didn't care to say that he had no choice in the matter.
He finally reached the car and got in and closed the door, not saying a word.
"You bein' forced t' go?" she asked softly.
"Yeah," he responded quietly. "How long is this gonna take?"
"An hour, maybe two," Alifair guessed.
Bud sighed heavily.
"Ya look real handsome, though," she complimented.
"Don't. Even. Start." He glanced over at her, seeing she was in a black evening down that was one-shouldered and appeared to go down to the floor. "Ya look nice, Ali."
"Thank ya, Buddy. You won't ever see me in this dress again."
Bud snorted at that. Alifair wasn't one that wore evening gowns. She didn't mind wearing casual dresses, or the high-low dresses, but she hated evening gowns with a passion.
"Why's Poppy makin' ya go?" she asked as they pulled out onto the highway.
"Report cards came out t'day. Straight F's and he ain't happy. He said he's tried ev'rythin' with me n nothin's worked," Bud admitted. "Made me feel real good, ya know? Knowin' he's tried every punishment he could think of with me an' I'm still failin'... I don't know what's wrong with me, Ali."
"Straight F's?! No way! I know you shouldn't have an F in science and health. I helped you with those."
"I know. Tolbert helped me with everything else and — and it's still straight F's, Ali," he said tearfully. "I can't — ugh, I don't know if it's just me or what. My science teacher hates me n loves to humiliate me, so does my health teacher. I swear, Ali, I'm droppin' out once I turn sixteen."
"Bud—"
"I'm not gonna graduate anyway. I'm gonna have to repeat tenth grade if I stay in school. I'm not repeating tenth grade, Ali, there's no way. I'd rather be a high school dropout than have t' do all this again."
"There is no dagon way you made straight F's. I'm in medical school, I should know. I know my health stuff and I know my science, and I ain't dumb enough to believe that ya literally made straight F's."
"Ali—"
"Bud, there's no possible way you failed this time," she lowered her voice, glancing at him. "I saw your work; it was right. There's no way you failed."
"Apparently, I did," Bud scratched the back of his neck. "My report card says that I did."
"We'll figure that out later. For now, we're gonna show Poppy this was a terrible idea for a punishment, 'cause we're gonna have a good time."
"Is Frank gonna be there?"
"Yeah."
"I ain't gonna have a good time."
"Bud," Alifair chastised, trying to suppress a laugh. She shouldn't have found his dislike for their cousin's boyfriend funny, but she did. It was hilarious to watch what all he would do to avoid him. "Be nice, please."
"I make no promises."
—
"You brought Bud as your date?" Nancy asked as Alifair and Bud approached the table.
"Sure, you can say that," Alifair snorted while Bud pulled her chair out for her. Bud sat down beside her, shooting her a look. She grasped his hand under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "It wasn't really by choice."
"Putting it lightly," Bud mumbled under his breath.
"And you, Bud," Nancy directed her attention to him. "You're wearing your glasses?"
"Mhm," he hummed and nodded. "Also not by choice."
Alifair chuckled and shook her head, a loose curl falling in front of her face while he laughed at her younger brother. She watched his face drop and watched him resist the urge to roll his eyes when Frank sat down beside Nancy. Alifair cleared her throat and shifted slightly. She couldn't laugh at him and let them discover he didn't really like Frank.
"Hello, Bud," the man greeted.
"Hey," Bud forced a smile. He shot Alifair a look when she let out a breathless laugh under her breath.
"You still wearin' them hearin' aids? I thought you'd've gotten the implant thing by now," Frank remarked lightheartedly.
"Cochlear implant?" Alifair supplied.
"Yes, that."
"Nah. I like my hearin' aids. Don't want no cochlear implant," Bud stated, wishing he could just disappear. He hated conversing with Frank. It usually led to something political or the topic of justice, and Bud never agreed with anything he said.
"Most people want t' get rid of hearin' aids," Frank laughed a little.
"Not me. I don't like the idea of having something implanted in my ears."
Alifair couldn't help but snort with laughter. Her little brother was firm in his beliefs and he wouldn't back down — even when it was over something as insignificant as a cochlear implant, which she had talked to him about. She'd explained it to him not too long ago and he'd immediately shot the idea down. He preferred his hearing aids.
"I always said he likes bein' able t' turn 'em down when someone's gettin' on his nerves," Nancy chuckled.
"Oh, he does. Especially when he gets in a argument with Tolbert," Alifair spoke up, sending the boy an amused look.
"I turn it down a little 'cause he starts yellin'," Bud corrected. "I do the same when Poppy starts yellin'."
"Why?" Nancy questioned, propping her chin upon her hand.
"It jus' gets t' be too loud," he answered honestly, shrugging lightly.
"Alright, enough of that. We came here t' have a good time; not talk about Bud's choice ta keep his hearin' aids."
—
"Hey," Alifair nudged Bud's shoulder, catching him off guard. He looked up at her, as she had gotten up to go to the bathroom a few moments ago. "Ya wanna dance?"
"I don't dance," he denied instantly. "I will do a lot of things for you, but I will not do that."
"Just one? It's a waltz. Ya can't mess that up, Bud."
"Alifair—"
"Please? I'll try t' talk t' Poppy after this if ya do. Tell 'im I don't think yer report card's right."
Bud bit on his bottom lip, a troubled expression on his face. If Alifair could talk to Ran'l about it... maybe it wouldn't be nearly as bad when he got home.
"A'ight. One dance."
"This is why you're my favorite."
Bud let Alifair lead him to the dance floor and immediately looked uncomfortable. Alifair placed her hand on his shoulder and smiled at him. Bud leaned down next to her ear.
"I hope ya know I really don't like you at the moment."
"I kinda figured. But I thank ya, even if ya are doin' it with selfish intentions."
"Yeah, well... I need someone t' save my hide when I get home n Tolbert can't, so yer kinda my only hope at this point," he pointed out while they danced. "God, this reminds me of when we used t' dance at home."
"Only now you're a giant and we're at some fancy gala that I managed to get an invite to."
"I'm not a giant," Bud rolled his eyes while he straightened his posture. "I'm not even as tall as Tolbert."
"You're like an inch shorter than he is," Alifair countered. "You're both giants."
"We ain't giants," he chortled. "You're just short."
"I am not!"
"Yes, you are. Yer hair's fallin' down, by the way."
"I don't care," Alifair shrugged. "I managed t' get you t' dance with me. I consider that an accomplishment."
"As you should. Because I am not doing this again, Alifair."
Alifair smiled at him. Bud rolled his eyes and sighed exasperatedly, earning a giggle from his sister.
"Oh, quit actin' like you don't enjoy it."
"I'm not actin'."
—
They left about an hour and a half after they arrived, and Bud couldn't have been more thankful.
He and Alifair raced to the car, given the fact it was pouring the rain, and laughed when they got in it.
"Oh God, Bud," Alifair laughed. "You look like a drowned rat."
"Well gee, thanks," he huffed. "Ya wouldn't happen t' have a handkerchief or somethin' would ya? My vision is spotted at the moment."
"Yeah. In my purse," Alifair said while handing him her purse. "Just open it n get it."
"Thanks," he mumbled, taking the handkerchief out before removing his glasses. He cleaned the lenses and put them back on. "That's better."
"Did ya have fun?"
"I did," he admitted. "Didn't like the dancin', but I enjoyed talkin' t' you."
"Oh, yer so sweet."
"Don't start with that again," he shook his head while she pulled out of the parking lot. "Oh God, Ali, there's water ev'rywhere."
"I know it. Maybe you should jus' stay at my place t'night... That way we don't risk runnin' int' floodwaters an' gettin' stuck if we do."
"Ali—"
"Please? I'll stop somewheres and we can getcha some clothes t' change into once we get t' my place. I just... that road's already flooded by now or blocked by a mudslide. You know that as well as I do."
"A'ight," Bud agreed. "Just stop at Walmart and I'll run in an' grab a t-shirt n a pair of sweatpants."
"A'ight. Thank you."
—
Once they got to Alifair's single-story home, Bud went to the bathroom and changed. He'd bought a green t-shirt and a pair of grey shorts, as they'd been the first things he found in his size. He just needed them to sleep in, so it didn't matter if it matched or not.
He shuffled out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, where Alifair was. She was dressed in a tank top and a pair of shorts, and was whistling. Her hair — which had been done in a fancy style — was pulled up in a messy bun, a few stray curls framing her face. She'd taken her makeup off as well, and looked up at Bud when he shuffled in the kitchen.
"Hey," she smiled. "Ya want somethin' t' eat?"
"Nah," he shook his head.
"I'm gonna call Poppy... tell him yer stayin' here. I did look, and yes, there's a mudslide not even half a mile away from the house. High water, too. It must've poured while we were in there."
"Yeah really," Bud muttered, leaning against the counter. "Ya best r'member your part of the deal, too. I ain't dancin' for no reason."
"You enjoyed it," she chuckled. "Admit it."
"Absolutely not."
"Why?"
"'Cause it would be a lie! I don't dance, Ali. It's not somethin' I like t' do. Don't mind watchin' other people do it, but I don't."
A knock sounded at the door.
"I'll get it," Bud spoke up quickly. "You do whatever it was you were gonna do."
Bud jogged to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open.
"Tolbert?!"
"Hey," he breathed.
Bud moved out of his way, letting him step inside. Bud closed the door and locked it again.
"What in the world—"
"I can't get home," Tolbert cut him off. "I tried. There's just — there's no way t' get home right now."
"What were you doin' out anyway?"
"Went t' pick up yer prescription an' your contacts. They're out in the truck, I'll get 'em in the mornin'. I wasn't even gone an hour."
Bud laughed, shaking his head.
"Ali's on the phone right now, but given the circumstances, I do believe we're stuck sharin' a room again."
"Aren't we always when somethin' like this happens?" Tolbert pulled a face.
"Yeah. Usually, we're at Roseanna's, though."
"Who are you — oh, it's Tolbert. Yeah, Poppy, we're all fine. Bud had a good time n he even danced with me."
Bud's face flushed red.
"You danced?" Tolbert quirked a brow.
"She bribed me into it," he grumbled.
"Oh, this I have got to know about."
"In here," Bud mumbled as he entered the living room. He sat down on the couch, watching Tolbert as he sat down beside him. "You know why I had to go."
"Yes," Tolbert nodded.
"Ali swears that I shouldn't've made straight F's. I don't think so either, but I didn't say nothin' 'cause no one ever listens t' me anyways. Sorry, back on track, Ali said that if I danced with her once, she would tell Poppy what she thought and try t' make this situation better for me. There's no way I coulda failed health and science, Tol. Ali helped me with it," Bud elaborated, looking at his brother.
"Even I know you shouldn't-a made the grades you did. You had me n Ali helpin' you with yer homework, and we both helped you study for tests. Did you ever get those back?"
"No. I don't even know if they've been graded. I'm too scared t' look at my grades online."
"So... what're you plannin' t' do?"
"Put up with it 'til I'm sixteen."
"Why sixteen?"
"They're not gonna let me pass tenth grade with these kinda grades, Tol. I'm not repeating it again. I'd rather be a high school dropout than t' repeat tenth grade."
"No. Absolutely not. Tell ya what... we're gonna take a look at yer grades online, see what's goin' on. Then I'm gonna talk t' Mama n see if she'll let me homeschool you. You learn a lot more out of school than ya do in school anyways. Ya just won't have t' get up before the sun anymore."
"Really?" Bud asked, hope shining in his eyes.
"Yeah. Let me go see if Ali'll let me use her laptop, then we'll plan all this out."
Tolbert left the room, leaving Bud alone for a few moments. He returned with Alifair on his heels, the two of them talking about something that Bud didn't catch. All he caught was: "That's a great idea!"
"A'ight, kid, let's work this out," Tolbert smiled at him.
Bud scooted over as far as he could, allowing Tolbert to sit next to him and Alifair next to Tolbert. They went on the site, allowing Bud to sign in before watching the boy pale.
"There is no way this is right," Alifair muttered, looking over the percentages. They didn't go over 30 percent and it made Bud sick to his stomach. He knew that was wrong, he knew it was, but he couldn't figure out why his grades were so bad.
"Let's see... we'll start with science."
—
After reviewing each class — as the site was set up to where they could view the assignments and the grade he had received on it — Tolbert and Alifair came to the conclusion that homeschooling was the best option for their younger brother.
Alifair knew for a fact that the science and health assignments were done correctly, as she had helped him with them. Sometimes she explained something to him, then there were days he just asked her to read over his answers. They had been correct and she had told him so. He always left a little happier than he'd been when he arrived.
Tolbert knew that the other assignments were done correctly. He'd been the one explaining every method of how to solve algebraic equations to Bud, had watched the boy figure it out on his own. He'd taught his brother how to graph things properly and had read over several essays that the boy had written for English. Each one was worthy of an A, a B at the very least. Tolbert knew how to write a good essay and Bud's essays were always worded and written beautifully.
Bud should have been doing well academically. He was an intelligent boy that shouldn't have been failing. That was what confused them — why was he failing? They both knew that he'd turned in papers that had every answer (except maybe one or two on the math sheets — some were tough to figure out) correct. By right, Bud should have been a straight A student.
"I don't understand it," Tolbert mumbled.
"Neither do I. None of these are right."
"I know. I just... oh my God," he groaned exasperatedly. "I don't understand how he has all F's! He shouldn't have one single F!"
"We'll talk t' Mama in the mornin' about homeschoolin' him. I can take on science and health, teach him all that fun interesting stuff. You can teach him the boring stuff."
"Maybe he's interested in history and English. Don't blame him at all for hatin' math. It's a pain."
"Ain't that the truth."
"Well... now that we know why his grades are so low, let's go t' bed. You two can have the guest room. I love you both dearly, but I am exhausted and just want to sleep."
"I relate," Bud mumbled under his breath.
"A'ight. Love ya, Ali," Tolbert gave a small smile.
"Love you."
—
Bud shuffled into the kitchen with his glasses on, his hair going in every direction. Alifair suppressed a laugh when she saw his severe case of bed head, but she found it to be utterly adorable.
"Mornin', honey. You want some coffee?"
"Mmm..."
Alifair poured him a cup of coffee and set it in front of him, watching him lift the mug to his lips and sip it.
"Did you call me honey?" Bud asked, his voice a little deeper than usual.
"I did," Alifair nodded. "It took you three minutes to notice it, too."
Bud grunted and sat down at the table, taking another sip of his coffee.
"Tolbert went t' see if the roads are clear yet. He'll be back either way, but you have the choice of ridin' with me if they are clear. We're gonna try t' talk Mama int' lettin' us homeschool you. I think you'd do better that way."
"I just... I don't understand," Bud confessed. "I know I shouldn't've made those grades, Ali. There's no way I shoulda failed every class, especially not English and science and health. Math, too. You and Tolbert helped me too much with it. I had you read over every sheet of paper I turned in. There's — there's no possible way I failed."
"I know there's no way that you—"
"Roads are clear," Tolbert announced as he walked into the kitchen. "Here, Bud. Yer medicine and your contacts."
"Thanks," Bud mumbled, ripping open the paper bag from the pharmacy. "I think I'll just wear the glasses, though."
That earned a look of shock from both his brother and his sister.
"What? I just don't wanna mess with contacts right now."
"A'ight, whatever. Who are you gonna ride home with?"
"Ali," he responded while opening the bottle. He dumped a single pill into his hand and took it, washing it down with coffee. "I hate these things."
"But yer in much better moods when you take 'em," Alifair pointed out. "You need 'em."
"I don't deny that. I just don't like 'em. Like I don't like hearin' aids and glasses."
"That's fair," Alifair nodded slightly. "Let me go change n then we'll go. Bud... comb your hair."
—
March 2017
Alifair and Tolbert had managed to persuade Ran'l and Sally to allow them to homeschool Bud. And once they had, they wasted no time in getting the boy started to prove that something had gone wrong with his grades.
The first week of March, they decided to get together and compare his grades so far, and he passed with flying colors. Ran'l and Sally had been impressed by his improvement, and had started to think that maybe — just maybe — their children were right.
So at Sunday meeting that week, Bud hung out in the parking lot afterward, whistling and kicking at a pebble while he walked around. He didn't pay any attention to the women who were affectionately referred to as the gossiping busybodies between his family, and he didn't pay any attention to the other teenagers either.
Maybe that was his mistake.
Bud hit the ground with a grunt, hissing when his palms scraped against the cement.
"Ain't seen you in school all week, McCoy. Where've ya been?" William sneered, kicking Bud.
"I'm homeschooled now," Bud answered curtly, standing up and brushing himself off. "Hey, stop! Give 'em back, I need those!"
William had snatched Bud's glasses off of his face, and tilted his head to the side.
"You look a lot better without 'em, and that's really sayin' somethin'," he laughed, snapping the frames in two.
Bud's heart plummeted to his stomach. He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him while he stared at the broken frames that were dropped to the ground, watching in horror as William stepped on them, breaking the lenses.
Oh God, what was he going to tell Ran'l?
"Why'd ya do that?" he asked quietly, his voice a hoarse whisper.
"'Cause I can. Ya ain't gonna tell no one. That would make you a whiny little baby," William taunted.
"Hey, Bud! Where's yer glasses?" Tolbert's brows furrowed as he approached his younger brother.
Bud's breathing hitched and he stared down at the ground, swallowing thickly. Tolbert's eyes followed Bud's gaze, landing on a crushed pair of frames.
"I know you didn't break his glasses." Tolbert's voice was dangerously low.
"So what if I did? That freak you call a brother is a nobody, Tolbert! A deaf little nobody that thinks the whole world owes him somethin'," William spat.
"Tolbert, no!" Bud shouted, grabbing hold of Tolbert's arms and holding him back.
He could make out a blurry figure running toward them, but he didn't know who it was. Once they were close enough, he realized it was Ran'l, and he breathed a breath of relief.
"What's goin' on?" Ran'l demanded.
"He started it," William lied, pointing at Bud.
"Liar!" Bud exclaimed. And after thinking for a moment, Bud told the truth. "He broke my glasses an' provoked Tolbert. He said... he said I'm a deaf little nobody that thinks the world owes him somethin'."
"My son is not a deaf little nobody. He might be deaf, but he's somebody. He's a good kid, William. I thought you would know that since ya went t' school with him n all." Ran'l looked at the crushed glasses. "There wa'n't no reason t' break Bud's glasses. I'm sure you feel real good now."
Bud and Tolbert were led away from the scene, only to discover almost everyone had turned their attention toward them.
"Poppy—"
"Not now, son. Let's focus on gettin' home."
—
Bud sat on the porch with Tolbert, putting his contacts in.
"My glasses," he mumbled sadly.
He'd grown to like them a little more over the last month. He wasn't made fun of when he wore them and he found that he did like wearing them every now and then. But now they were broken and he had no way to replace them.
"We'll getcha a new pair," Tolbert assured him.
"Everything I start to like... it gets taken away. My glasses, I started enjoyin' school a little 'cause I was finally catching on with stuff 'cause you n Ali were helpin' and — and then I failed every class. I liked the new girl, Evelyn, and William told her that I was a terr'ble human bein' and that I ain't nothin' but a freak. I just don't understand why nothin' works out for me."
"You still have contact lenses. Me n Ali are homeschoolin' you and you are thriving, Bud. You're ahead of your grade level. You ain't no terr'ble human bein', and you ain't no freak. It's little things, Bud. Like yer hearin' aids, or-or you bein' forced t' go t' the gala. That ended up bein' a good thing, right?"
"Reckon so."
"That weekend you were at my place and you had that breakdown. That helped us understand that you needed a little more help, that you weren't just going through a phase where you wanted t' shut everybody out for a while. It showed us that you'd gotten real good at hidin' things from us, and we've all learned a bit from it. You come t' us and vent now and we listen. We want to help you as much as we possibly can, Buddy. It's hard for you, I know it is. You're a fifteen-year-old boy that wants ta be normal, but Buddy... normal's overrated. I think yer perfect just the way you are."
"I'm far from perfect," he scoffed.
"In your opinion you are. But... but ya don't see how much you've grown since we first found out you was losin' yer hearin'. You amaze us, Buddy. You amazed us then and ya still do a good job of amazin' us. Yer smart. They told us you wasn't gonna be able t' talk right for a few years, that you'd always be behind b'cause of the nearly two years you were completely deaf. But ya proved 'em wrong. And by the time you started school, when your eyes started botherin' you, ya was talkin' better than most six-year-olds. You're perfect to us, Bud. We don't want you no other way."
"Dang," Bud let out a breathless chuckle. "I don't feel that way at all. But thanks."
"You're welcome. I love you, Bud."
"I love you too."
A comfortable silence was present for a moment, the brothers looking out across the yard.
"Tolbert, I think you're the best big brother," Bud said suddenly.
"Why?" Tolbert asked, looking over at him with his face pinched in a bewildered expression.
"You've always took up for me. Ya didn't care who it was or how old they were, ya told 'em exactly what ya thought when they said somethin' that counted as makin' fun of me. Heck, ya even hit Jefferson that once for sayin' somethin' about it. Ya didn't judge me when I had that breakdown in your house, ya just — you were there and ya tried yer best t' help me. You've never told me that my grades were somethin' I could easily fix... ya just encouraged me t' work harder t' bring them up and I did. You may have a terrible temper, but you're the best person I know. I love you, Tolbert."
"I love you too, Buddy," Tolbert smiled, pulling his little brother into a hug. "Wanna know a secret?"
"Sure."
"You're my fav'rite."
"You wanna know a secret?" Bud laughed a little.
"Why not?" Tolbert shrugged.
"You're my fav'rite. I don't think I woulda survived that breakdown without you, Tol."
"Yeah, you would've. Ya have Ali n Rosie, an' they understand, they do. But none of our siblin's is ever gonna love you as much as I do. I'm always gonna love you more than they do, kid. It seems I have grown attached ta you in the fifteen years you've been livin'."
Bud laughed a little at that.
"And... let me be honest here. I may get mad at ya. I may scream an' say somethin' stupid, but I'll always love you. Don't ever think that I don't jus' 'cause I say somethin' when we get in an argument."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he nodded in confirmation.
"I'll always love you, too. Even if I say I hate ya or somethin' stupid like that."
Tolbert chuckled and ruffled the boy's hair.
"You're a good kid, Bud. Don't ever change."
