It's been a few months since Dad moved them back to Amity Park, and Francis has settled in nicely. People like him in Casper High, some because of Dad and some because they found him rather charming. He had those weeks of radio silence when Mom grounded him into the analogue age, but it didn't damage his social life too bad. Marti was doing well for herself, too. From what Francis saw when he picked her up from school, and what she told him on their walk home, Marti was making a lot of friends.
Then there was the Trial. He made sure Marti didn't see any of the news coverage and tried his best not to mention anything about it around her. She didn't need to go through any of the stress the rest of them had to. She knew something was wrong, and if she didn't before those Vultures gave her that music box, and the subsequent meltdown it caused certainly helped tip her off. Mom was always on edge, even before all of this happened. But now she had become angrier and, if Francis was really honest with himself, more paranoid. She would call Francis the minute his class ended and would freak out when he didn't keep her up to date when walking Marti home. Francis considered himself lucky, in comparison to the phone call his mother gave his father, she was going easy on him.
"Do you know this person picking her up?...Not another intern, Tucker, we talked about this…No, it's completely different from me leaving Francis with my coworkers, for starters they're cops! Do you even do a background check on these people before you send them off to watch after my daughter?...If you keep on sending strangers to pick her up, she won't be 'our' daughter for long..."
Francis entered the kitchen and put a hand on his mother's shoulder, only after he was sure she was in a calmer state.
"It's okay, Mom, I can pick up Marti-"
Mom held a finger up at him, trying her best to hold back the venom when she looked at him.
"Not now, Francis, I'm talking to your father." She quickly returned to focusing her wrath to her phone. "I don't care if it's across the street from your house, she's seven years old, Tucker. Are you even at home right now?...Francis is here, Tucker, he's not at your house….I'M BUSY, I HAVE TO GO INTO THE PRECINCT IN FIVE MINUTES, I can't go out of my way to go pick up our children whenever you get your manic bouts of productivity and actually do some work for once."
"Mom, I can go pick up Marti, it's no big deal."
"Hold on, Tucker," Mom lowered her phone and covered the mic with the heel of her palm. "Francis, the Dodgson house is two miles away, I can't have you walk all the way there and back to pick her up."
"Mom, I walk Marti home from school all the time, what makes this so different?"
"It's getting dark out, I can't have two kids wandering the streets alone after dark."
"I'm sure I can handle myself."
"Oh, so then I didn't go get you in the west coast because you decided to track down the most dangerous artifact in the world? That must have been some crazy dream I had."
"I've already served my time for that, didn't I?"
Francis' mother put a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry Francis, but I can't ask you to do that. There's just too much going on to let you two walk around after dark. I'm nervous as it is leaving you home alone."
Francis sighed.
"Okay, then why not ask the Fentons to pick Marti up? They live right next door and I know Auntie Sam is having time off work and I don't think Jazz is doing anything."
Mom had a troubled look on her face. He rarely saw her at a loss for words.
"You know I love your god family, but they've got a lot of issues to deal with at the moment and I don't want Marti to be exposed to that."
"Mom, I don't think you can be so picky. Would you rather have a rando assistant pick up Marti or the people you know?"
Francis smiled a little when his mom looked like she was agreeing with him. He smiled a little more when he heard Dad say, "I think you should listen to him, Val." Faintly from Mom's phone. Mom rolled her eyes.
"Alright," she put the phone back to her ear, "Tucker, I'm going to call the Fentons and see if they can pick her up…If you thought it was such an obvious decision why didn't you think of it?...I'll talk to you later, bye. Stop sending strangers to pick up my kids."
Jazz was the one who dropped Marti off at Mom's house. Francis thanked her.
"Don't worry about it, I was heading this way to pick up Wispy from her therapist anyway."
Francis both cringed and smirked at the same time, but only showed the smirk.
"I thought everyone stopped calling her that a while ago." He said, doing his best to pretend to care.
Jazz shrugged.
"I guess I never shook it off. I still think of you two as the little babies I'd see on holidays. You two will always be Wispy and Nano."
"Okay, Jazz, it's nice seeing you. Have a safe drive home."
Francis was closing the door and Jazz stopped him.
"Things are crazy on our end, but I know you guys haven't gotten out of this unscathed. If you need someone to talk to, you or Marti, I'm here for you guys."
Francis paused. He should tell her that things have been feeling off for him. His worries about his parents' stress. His worries about Marti. Part of him wanted to mention it to her, but what came out was, "It's okay, we're good."
Jazz had an expression that didn't seem as happy as it portrayed.
"Okay, well, you know how to get a hold of me if you change your mind."
"Don't worry, I'll let you know."
Francis waited until Jazz left the doorstep and he closed the door behind her before he exhaled. He's always found talking to Jazz somewhat awkward. He's not related to her in any way that he thought mattered, and he never saw her enough that he had much of a connection. She was just that family friend who's known him for all his life, but he barely remembers anything about her.
Marti had raced off to the living room and was already searching through Netflix when Francis found her.
"Have you seen the new Kid Nebula season yet? It came out weeks ago but since you were grounded I didn't watch it yet."
"Of course I haven't, I wouldn't see it without you, Marti." Francis said, giving the first genuine smile he had all day. "But we should probably have dinner first. Mom made some food to heat up before she went off to work."
Marti's turquoise puppy eyes poked out from behind the couch.
"Can we eat in front of the TV, please? I've been dying to see this for weeks."
"Sorry, Marti, Mom gave me specific instructions to eat in the kitchen. She'll kill us if we spill anything on her new couch."
Marti gave one more defiant pout before making her way into the kitchen.
"No fun." She grumbled under her breath.
Francis followed her into the kitchen. He smiled knowingly, eyes flitting up to the ceiling.
"But…I don't think she'll mind us watching on my tablet as long as we eat at the dinner table. Even if she does, there's no need for us to tell her."
When Marti turned to face him, Francis gave her a wink. Smiling, bouncing, squealing, Marti zipped to Francis and trapped him in a tight hug.
"Thank you, Francis! You're the best big brother ever!"
Francis shrugged and hugged her back.
"I try."
They settled down at the kitchen table and played their show as soon as Francis served the already chilling vegetables and the roast chicken Mom barely managed to save from burning. It was strange how equally palatable their parents' cooking was but in completely different ways. Dad always picked the best cuts of meat, especially the red, and knew exactly how long to cook them until they were so perfect hardly any sauces or seasonings were needed. However, he never quite knew how to cook vegetables that weren't flash frozen and ready for the microwave. Broccoli was always an over cooked mush and baked potatoes always had a hard center. Francis could even recall a time, perhaps before Marti was born, that he saw his father but a salad in the microwave. On the other side, Mom could never quite get the meats just right, always coming out overcooked, dry, or otherwise utterly tasteless. Her vegetables, however, were exquisitely cooked and well-seasoned. The only person Francis knew that could make better dishes, even the most bitter vegetables downright delicious, was Aunt Sam. Thanksgiving was Francis and Marti's favorite time of year if not for their family being together under the same roof, then because their parents would combine their strengths to make the best meal ever.
"So what do you think about this new villain this season?" Francis asked.
"I think it's Sprig's sister from an alternate dimension." Marti said through a mouthful of chicken, "But Wybie thinks that it may be an ancestor of the Brainsuckers from the original series."
Francis stopped his fork full of peas halfway to his mouth and lowered back to his plate.
"You and Wybie have been hanging around a lot lately? It's weird I haven't met him yet."
"I keep telling him that you're nice, but he always runs off whenever you come to get me."
Francis raised an eyebrow.
"That's weird, why doesn't he like me?"
Marti shrugged.
"I don't know, something about you not treating his brother right when you were little. Or something, he said it once and it was hard to hear him."
"His brother? Who's his brother?"
"He didn't say. Do you remember any kids you were mean to?"
Francis shrugged.
"Not really, I haven't lived full time in Amity Park in a really long time."
"He said you and your sister never talked to him again. Do you think he meant Ophelia?"
Francis' face darkened, he could feel a sneer twitch into his mouth.
"He's got the wrong kid. Me and Ophelia never hung around each other and never shared friends."
Marti stooped her shoulders. She slid down her seat so far down that her eyes barely peaked over the table.
"You don't have to say it so mean." She muttered.
Guilt weighed down on Francis.
"I'm sorry, Marti, I'm not mad at you, it's just…"
"I know, you don't like her." She fiddled with her chicken, reaching out with her fork to stab at it. "I'm not stupid."
"I never said you were."
"Don't sound so mean."
"I'm sorry, I won't do that again."
Marti broke eye contact with her chicken to look at Francis. He couldn't tell if she was smiling below the table, or if she were scowling.
"I'll tell Wybie when I see him at school. Maybe he'll be nicer to you if he knows that you weren't mean to anybody."
"Thanks. I'd like to meet him too. I like to know who my little sister hangs out with."
Mom came home late. Marti was sound asleep, and Francis was close to calling it a night himself. He could see out his bedroom window the sky change in a gradient from black to blue to violet to pink. Dawn already? He stepped outside his bedroom door just as Mom was coming up the stairs.
"Francis," She said in a tired, annoyed voice, "Please tell me you didn't stay up the whole night on your computer."
"It's Saturday, Mom," he said, deciding it was too much work to lie to her.
"No, now it's Sunday." Mom sighed. She made her way up the rest of the stairs and put her hands on Francis' shoulders. "Look, honey, I'm going to need you to step up, okay? Your father is way too busy finding a way to contain the Ghost King and his work is getting too dangerous for Marti to stay with him. I'm overworked trying to keep the peace in this town. I need you to stay on top of yourself and her when I can't be here to watch over you two. I know it's not fair, but that's just how it is right now."
Francis covered his mother's hands with his.
"I get it, Mom, I don't mind."
Mom smiled and gave Francis a hug.
"Thank you, honey. Lucky for you I'm tired too so I'm going to have to let you off with a warning. Now get some sleep. I'll make us all some pancakes when Marti wakes up and jumps on my bed."
"Sounds great." Mom let him go and went to her room. A thought rose up in Francis before she could turn the knob. "Um, Mom, about Marti,"
Mom looked over her shoulder, the exhaustion seemed to disappear from her face.
"Yes, Francis, what's wrong?"
"Have you ever seen her friend Wybie? She's been talking about him a lot lately and I don't know if he's alright or not."
Mom released a small amount of her tension, but still had a look of concern on her face.
"She's still talking about him? You know he's not real, right?"
Francis felt a sharp pang in his chest.
"What?"
"Your father warned me about it. Apparently, he found her laughing and talking to the air in front of her and when he asked what she was doing she introduced him to her friend 'Wybie'. He thinks it's harmless, but it seems a little off to me. She's a little old to suddenly come up with an imaginary friend, especially when she has so many real friends."
Francis was dumbfounded. It took him a moment to put a response together.
"She's had imaginary friends before. She's very creative."
"I know, but I thought she phased out of that when she started kindergarten. It might be nothing but I don't know, with all that is going on I'm worried it might be an emotional problem."
"Don't worry, Mom, she's fine. You've got nothing to worry about."
Mom smiled halfheartedly, unable to mask that little pang of worry.
"Just do me a favor and keep an eye out for her, okay? If something seems off to you, you tell me, alright? Me or your dad, alright?"
"Alright, you or Dad."
Mom smiled, this time more genuine. Her fatigue came back, now that she felt a little more relief. With a lazy wave, she bade Francis a goodnight, or rather a good morning, and went into her room to collapse onto her bed.
Francis became to feel his eyes ache from the fatigue of staring at a screen all night. He might get maybe five hours before Marti would wake him up if he went to bed now. There was worry, deep in his mind, that he shared with his mother. He only partly believed that Wybie was harmless, that is was perfectly normal for Marti to have an imaginary friend. She's creative, with so much energy that it wouldn't be surprising if she worn out her friends at school long before she herself has ran out of steam. But still, there are too many things going on to ignore the possibility of something being wrong…
As true as those thoughts were, Francis was too tired to act on them. Right now, he needed sleep. He could deal with Wybie later.
Sunday came and gone in a blur of binge watching, video games and sleep. He went to bed at a rational time, with the helpful reminder of his mother, and was up and early Monday morning to get ready for school. Mom was already awake and made breakfast, he could see the smoke of burning bacon fat as soon as he came downstairs. That along with not-too-runny fried eggs and crispy toast waited for him and Marti on the kitchen table while Mom washed out the pans before running off to work. They set their backpacks down by the kitchen door before they took their seat, Francis putting down a cumbersome package he had kept in his room since Friday.
"Francis, what's in the box?" Mom asked, pouring the last bit of coffee into her thermos. Pictures of coffee beans printed all over it, so no one mistakes it for the other kind of thermoses used in the 13th Precinct (despite those models being out of circulation for a long time).
"Nothing, Mom." Francis said, "Just something for a friend."
"What did I tell you about buying friends?"
"'Real friends don't have price tags'." Marti said, mashing her eggs and scooping the yellow and white goo into her toast.
"It's not like that, Mom, he's already my friend. I just thought I'd do something nice for him."
"I'm sure you can do something nice that doesn't need Prime delivery. Do you kids have money for lunch?"
"We got it, Mom, thanks." Francis answered for them, while Marti tried to stuff her mouth airtight with egg-soaked toast. "What time do you think you'll be home?"
"I'm going to be late tonight. I have a dinner meeting with your father and a few agents regarding his project so I'm going to let you use my FoodDude account to order delivery. Don't order junk, I'll know." She added an "I'm watching you" gesture to her last command.
Marti groaned through her food, prompting Mom to respond with "Baby, don't talk with your mouth full, you might choke on your food."
Rushed kisses on foreheads, "Love you, babies, have a good day at school", and Mom was out the door. Five minutes later, Francis heard the car start, and the whirr of the garage door open and close.
Marti slowly swallowed her breakfast, bit by careful bit, before she spoke again.
"Do you think Mom's buying our love with food?"
Francis nearly choked on his eggs and stared at Marti dumbfounded.
"What on Earth gave you that idea?"
Marti shrugged.
"Idunno, it's just weird that she made such a big breakfast on a weekday. Not even Dad does that. Wendy told me her parents were extra nice to her when they split up to make her love one of them more. What's that big word when the parent gets to have their kid live with them?"
"Custody"
"Yeah, that, I think they were fighting over that and were trying to have her pick. You think Mom is trying to do that with us?"
Francis took a moment to think about it. He knew the real reason for their Mom's extra attention, the same reason for her being on edge. That's nothing he wanted Marti to know too much about.
"It's not like that," He finally said, "She's just overcompensating for not being around as much."
Marti mouthed the words. "O-ver-com-pen-sa-ting?" It was not a word a second grader would find on her vocabulary homework.
"You know, like being extra to make up for something else you don't have enough of."
Marti smiled and nodded to confirm that she understood the word.
Francis managed to catch Owen alone before their homeroom class. He thought he wouldn't catch the kid alone until way later in the day, but it appeared that luck was on his side.
"Hey, Owen," Francis called halfway across the hall. He saw Owen stiffen the moment he peaked out of his locker door. Owen closed the door and waited politely for Francis to close the distance between them.
"Hey, Francis," Owen replied with half the enthusiasm.
"I heard you do the artwork for your friend's web comic, and we haven't had a warm start, so when I saw this online I thought I'd get it for you."
Francis held out the large, almost flat carboard box to Owen. Owen took the box, dipping a little when he took the full weight. Owen glanced at the at the return address of the box and his eyes widened immediately.
"Wacom? It better not be what I think it is." Owen tore through the box, revealing a more stylish box underneath.
"It's a Cintiq Pro," Francis said a little too excitedly, "The newest model, it's sensitive to 100,000 pen pressure levels."
"I'm not sure I have 100,000 pen pressure levels," Owen said, staring at the box with shock. He held the box back out to Francis. "I can't take this."
"Relax, it's no big deal."
"Aren't these five thousand dollars?"
"More or less the same amount I spend on processors for my gaming computers, no big deal."
"I've never used a tablet before, I wouldn't know what to do with it."
"Nonsense, there's thousands of tutorials online for drawing tablets. In fact, I think one comes with the software."
"Okay, but why? Why would you give me such an insanely expensive gift? I thought you hate me?"
Francis raised an eyebrow at him. What a dumb thing to say.
"What? I don't hate you, I think you're cool. Your taste in girls isn't the greatest, but there's no reason that should keep us from being friends."
"I don't know if I'm okay with this…"
"Alright, think of it as an investment. If you want to be a paid professional artist, you'll need to know how to make digital art and take online commissions. Whatever you did before might be fine for now, but you've got to have some versatility to get anywhere."
Owen's expression was the human equivalent of a buffer screen. It was obvious he did not feel right taking a gift so large. Or perhaps he was worried about something else. Whatever it was, Owen's two guy friends from their homeroom class – Mick and Wal, Francis recalled their names after a moment – jumped in on their conversation.
"Holy crud, Owen," Mick said, a little too loudly, "Is that the new Cintiq Pro?"
"Yeah –"
"That's freaking awesome! How the heck did you get that!"
"I got it for him," Francis interjected, "I guess you can say it's an investment for Sweet Justice."
Mick's eyes went wide. Wal even looked taken aback.
"You read our web comic?" Wal said, in a distant voice.
"Francis Foley reads our web comic!" Mick was jumping up and down like he had just tried his first coffee. "I hoped you'd opened the link I sent you, but I didn't think you would!"
Owen and Wal looked at Mick strangely.
"How do you even have his number?" Owen asked.
Mick beamed with pride.
"I offered to help him get around the school and we exchanged numbers."
Francis shrugged. It was true that he traded numbers, after maybe five or so pleases and an offer to do some of his homework to help him catch up with the rest of the class. He didn't regret it, not entirely, Mick was a nice guy, once you get past the overwhelming enthusiasm and social dopiness. Plus, he and Wal write a very good web comic.
Wal, coming out of his small stupor, said, "Well…what do you think of it?"
Another shrug from Francis.
"I like Captain Confection, he manages to be funny and practical as a superhero. I can totally see someone like him in the Marvel universe."
Wal blushed. He almost looked like he was about to faint.
"Um, thank you, so much."
Mick put his arm around Wal and smiled with a playful attempt at macho pride.
"We are a pretty good writing team, me and this guy. I like to think that someday we'll be up there with the big shot comic creators like Kane and Finger, or even Stan Lee."
"Keep this up and I don't doubt it," Francis nodded his head to Owen, "Especially if you hang on to this guy. His artwork is really good for analogue."
"And it will only get better with the new tablet," Mick took the time to hang his other arm over Owen's shoulder. "We can't thank you enough for it."
Owen still looked startled about the whole thing. He soon pieced together and smiled, nodding his head in agreement.
"Yeah, thank you" Owen said, with a little less ease than Francis had hoped. "I'll draw you a free commission as thanks as soon as I get a hang of it."
"Don't worry about it," Francis said, "I'm glad to help."
The bell rang in that instant, signaling the beginning of the school day.
"I'll try and stow this in my art locker." Owen said, fumbling for the plastic handle on top of the box. "I'll see you guys in homeroom."
"We'll save your seat for you." Wal said, slipping out of Mick's hold. To Francis he said, "See you in class, and thank you again."
"Yeah, thank you forever." Mick said as he followed Wal to class.
"No problem guys, and Owen." Francis waited until Owen stopped and turned to him to continue, "Let me know if you want me to help you set it up or anything."
Owen gave a weak smile and nod before disappearing into the sea of students. Francis felt good about his gift. Perhaps now Owen could forgive him for trying to break him up with Necro and try to be friends with him. Francis thought of that while he made his was to class. He must have thought about it too much because he wound up walking into an open locker door.
"Ah!" Francis moaned, covering his face. His nose hurt, but luckily there was no blood when he pulled his hand away. "Hey watch where your-" He stopped when he looked over to the other side of the locker and found nobody there. Francis grumbled.
"I hope it's some moron who forgot to close their door because I am not in the mood for a ghost prank."
He slammed the locker shut and headed to class, rubbing his still throbbing nose on the way.
It had been an unfortunate school day for Francis. He ran out of graphite for his mechanical pencils and the wooden ones he managed to bum off his classmates broke upon contact (thus proving to himself why he should only use mechanical pencils). He sat on gum in one class and the leg of his chair snapped in another, causing him to fall over. Worst of all, his phone died halfway through the day, leaving him plugged into the library wall most of his lunch period. Strange, Francis thought repeatedly during that time, he could've sworn he charged his phone last night. By the end of the day, Francis was not in the best of moods.
He did his best to hide it when he got to Marti's school. Surprisingly, he didn't find her playing with the other kids in the playground. Instead, he found her in her classroom, doing her math homework. She had a troubling look, a rarity for her. When he greeted her, she tried her best to give a convincing smile. Being only seven years old, she still had a lot to learn on the art of the fake smile.
"Hey Marti, what are you doing in here?"
Marti shrugged.
"I didn't feel like playing."
Marti's teacher, Mrs. Jackson, looked up from her desk and shot up as soon as she spotted Francis.
"Francis, can I have a word with you before you leave?"
"Um…okay?"
Mrs. Jackson smiled and turned to Marti.
"Martha, will you go outside for a moment while I talk to your brother?"
"Yes, Mrs. Jackson." Marti said, regretfully. She stuffed her papers and pencils into her backpack and walked outside. Mrs. Jackson went up to Francis, getting just close enough to talk quietly so the three other children in the room couldn't hear.
"I don't know if your family is aware about her imaginary friend."
Francis frowned.
"Yeah, Wybie, what about it?"
"Well, normally I encourage this sort of creativity. She managed to get the whole class to play along, treating 'Wybie' like a real kid out in the playground. However, lately, it's starting to become disruptive. There's been some tricks played around the classroom, some kids come back from recess with bruises or scrapes after getting into fights with Marti."
"Are you implying that my sister has been beating up her classmates? She's not like that, if the other kids are saying so they're lying."
"None of the kids are pointing fingers at Marti, and that is what's upsetting me most. All of them blame Wybie for whenever something goes wrong. It's become the class scapegoat. I never know who did what without somebody bringing Wybie up. When I try to confront them about the imaginary friend, they fight me strongly that he is real, just pointing at empty space and screaming 'he's right there'. I think your family needs to help Marti face the reality of her friend, and then maybe that will help the others quit this ridiculous game before it gets too out of hand. I sent both your parents an email regarding this matter, and I was hoping that you can make sure that they get the message. Maybe help them give Marti that push."
Francis nodded placidly as he said, "I'll make sure they know."
"I hope you understand that I think Martha is a remarkable child. I'm just worried for her and the rest of the class."
"I get that."
"I know that your family are really close to the Fentons and suffered your own problems related to that trial-"
"Don't worry, Mrs. Jackson, we made sure Marti has nothing to do with it."
Mrs. Jackson looked like she was going to continue her thought, but Francis cut her off with a curt "Nice speaking with you." And opened the classroom between them.
"Come on, Marti, let's go."
Francis barely looked back to see that Marti was following behind him. The nerve of Mrs. Jackson, Francis kept thinking. Just because she couldn't control the class doesn't mean she has a right to pin it all on Marti. If the kids wanted to play along with Marti's imagination, that is not her fault. His rage at Mrs. Jackson managed to sustain itself half of the way home before it ebbed away into worry. It wasn't Marti's fault that the other kids were acting up, but still if she was committing to this imaginary friend enough for her classmates to pick it up. Is that healthy? Is it going too far? When he looked back at Marti, it finally occurred to Francis that she wasn't as cheery and talkative as she usually was.
"What's wrong Marti?" Francis asked.
Marti looked up, her normally bright eyes were somber.
"I told Wybie what you said, that you didn't know anyone like him. He got mad at me, like I was lying to him. Then he just disappeared for the rest of the day." Her eyes glistened, like she was about to cry. "I don't think he wants to be my friend anymore."
"I'm sorry, Marti," Real or not, Francis felt bad for making his little sister sad. "I didn't mean to get between you and your friend."
"It's okay, it's too bad you never got the chance to meet him. You might like him."
Francis pressed his lips into a hard, thin line.
"Marti, do you know what Mrs. Jackson told me about him?" He asked.
"He's real!" Marti snapped. "You can ask anyone in my class and they'll say the same thing!"
"Don't you think it's weird that she's never seen him?"
"She must have, all my friends do."
"Mom and Dad haven't seen him either."
"That's not true, Dad says hi to him when he comes over."
"Did he ever say hi to Wybie on his own or did you have to tell him that Wybie was there first?"
Marti stopped in her tracks. The weight of the question seemed to press down on her.
"Dad couldn't see him? Why can't he see him? Why can't Mrs. Jackson see him? Why can't any of the grownups see him?"
Francis could see the tears welling up. He felt an uncomfortable, unbearable pain see her so upset and knowing he caused it.
"I don't know, Marti, but they all think you made him up. They're getting very worried about you."
"I'm fine, they're the ones that they should be worried about! They can't see Wybie! My whole class can see Wybie but they can't!"
Marti was crying now, wiping away the tears and snot with her hoodie sleeve. When she buckled to the floor, Francis knelt down in front of her.
"Hey, it's okay Marti. It's okay. There's nothing wrong with having imaginary friends at your age-"
"He's real!" Marti shrieked, "He's not imaginary, I know the difference between real and imaginary! I'm not stupid!"
"You're not stupid, Marti." Francis consoled, "Nobody is saying you're stupid. There's a lot going on right now, more than the grownups want you to know. I'm sure there are a few things they are keeping from me, too. Whatever it is, it's making them scared. They're so scared that it's spilling over onto you. They have never seen Wybie, so they think there's something wrong happening. That's not your fault, it doesn't mean there is anything wrong with you, they're just worried."
Marti had a pouty kind of expression as she wiped a stray tear onto her sleeve.
"Does it have something to do with that gift the birds had me give to Ophelia?"
"A little, but don't worry about that. Mom and Dad already took care of it. Whatever is happening, with Wybie or the grownups, you can talk to me about it. I'll let you know what's safe to tell Mam and Dad, and what will just get them worried for no reason. I'll help you get through all the silliness."
"Really?"
"Yeah, that's what big brothers are for."
Marti managed a little smile and hugged Francis. Francis hugged her back, glad to have eased her distress if just a little bit.
The evening was not that eventful. Francis helped Marti with what was left of her homework, finishing just in time for their dinner to arrive. The ate while watching the rest of the Kid Nebula. They managed to finish the season finale right in time for Marti to go to bed.
"Why do I have to go to bed when you get to stay up until Mom gets home?" Marti said with a pout.
"You know the protocol." Francis was quick to retort, "If Mom and Dad aren't here, and we don't have an adult supervising us, I have to stay up until Mom gets home."
"We have a security system to keep ghosts and people out, you don't need to keep watch."
"Sometimes a ghost shield isn't enough to keep bad guys out. Sometimes you need someone up to sound the alarm." Francis immediately second guessed if he should tell Marti that. Was Marti old enough to know that safety isn't a 100% guarantee?
"Then maybe I should stay up with you," Marti couldn't hide her clever smile. "I can be the third line of defense. I'm way better than you in the FPS's anyway." She pantomimed aiming an invisible rifle at the wall as she said it.
"Not even I'm old enough for guns, a, and b, you can't stay up on a school night. Remember last year when you stayed up all night to binge watch Robo Pixies?"
"I told you, I wasn't asleep, I was visualizing during the read-aloud."
Francis smiled and ruffled her hair.
"If you get ready now, I'll let you take the tablet to bed."
Marti scrunched her forehead as she thought it through.
"Hmmm…okay."
With that, Marti scurried up the stairs with the speed and agility of an overcaffeinated squirrel. Once Francis heard the door to the upstairs bathroom click shut, he went on to tidy up the kitchen. He hardly heard Marti go from the bathroom to her room when he loaded the dishwasher and sorted the food containers in the proper bins. He could feel the last of his stress fade away as fatigue ebbed into its place. Little sisters are good are wearing their older siblings down, but for Francis it was a good thing.
Marti had left her homework all over the kitchen table. Francis was amazed that there was only few small food stains splattered on a couple of her papers, seeing how messy their dinner was. He took the time to sort each paper into their proper stacks and packed them away in her bag. He packed his own papers with not as much care and brought both up the stairs along with the tablet. He tossed his bag into his room on the way to Marti's…and then immediately stopped when he heard voices coming from Marti's room.
"I can't play right now, I need to get ready for bed."
"Oh come on, Marti, one game, we hardly got to play at all during recess."
Who could Marti be video-calling at this hour? Was Francis' first thought, but a quick glance at Marti's backpack showed that her phone was tucked away in the mesh side pocket.
"Why not a round of Flashlight Tag?" the voice said, Francis could see a light flash quickly under the door. That was a child's voice, a boy's voice, in Marti's room. There was another kid in Marti's room, and somehow that made Francis' blood run cold.
"I promised Francis I'd get ready for bed."
"Forget your stupid brother, he isn't that great anyway!... He can't even remember his old friends."
"Marti?" Francis croaked out. "Is everything okay in there?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," He could barely hear harsh whispers before Marti said, "Wybie is trying to get me into trouble!"
"No! Don't tell him I'm here!" the voice whispered louder, angrier.
Francis didn't even let that sink. He bolted straight to Marti's door and swung it open.
"Who is here!" He called out.
Marti stood in the middle of the room, a little startled by her brother's dramatic entrance. In one hand she held a flashlight, in the other she gripped her pajama bottoms with the legs trailing behind her. The bottom drawer of her sliding closet was pulled out, her pajama top hanging limply from it. Other than that, the room was clean and tidy, and completely empty.
After a moment, Marti looked confusedly to the air beside her.
"Wybie left." She said.
"Left?" Francis matched his sister's look of confusion with his own. "Where did he go?"
Marti shrugged.
"I dunno, he's just gone."
"How could he leave? This is the only door out of your room and we're on the second floor."
"I don't know, he just left. He's never done that before."
"Done what?"
"Disappear!"
Francis' eyes went wide.
"Disappear?" Francis sputtered out, "Like a ghost? Wybie's a ghost?!"
In a neck break speed only Marti Gray could do, her face went from confusing, to frustration, to a shock of someone who just realized something very important.
"He's not a ghost! He would've told me if he was a ghost! He only did human things when he's around me, he even used doors!"
"I mean, that would explain why no one else can see him."
A twinge of anger flashed in Marti's eyes.
"No, it doesn't. I wasn't the only one who saw him. The kids at my school saw him too, but Mrs. Jackson never did. I saw him when Mommy and Daddy never did."
"How did he get in? The security's system's on. No ghost or human should be able to get in without the code-"
Francis glared at Marti, who just then grew a guilty, sheepish look.
"Marti, did you give your friends our security code?"
Marti's eyes went to the floor.
"No…" She said as she fumbled with the flashlight "Mommy told us not to…"
"Marti!"
"I didn't tell my friends the code…I just didn't make look away when I put it in."
"Marti! Don't you know how dangerous it is to let people see your security codes!"
"But they're my friends, Mommy and Daddy had already met them. They wouldn't have done anything with it."
"You don't know that!"
Francis was about to go into a rant but stopped himself when he saw Marti's eyes begin to mist.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you, Marti, this is just a high stress scenario."
"Are you going to tell Mommy?" Marti whimpered.
Francis hesitated with his answer. He should probably tell Mom about this. She would know what to do about Wybie. But then again, he thought, then again Mom will probably overreact and Marti would get in trouble. And that's not even mentioning what would happen to Wybie. Francis still didn't know what kind of ghost this Wybie was. He could be a harmless kid, after all, he may not know better. And he's Marti's friend. If something happened to Wybie, Marti may not forgive any of them.
"No, I won't tell Mom, not yet. I need to see if Wybie is a danger before we throw him to the mercies of Mom. Besides, without any real proof, she might not believe us anyway."
Marti wiped a tear building up in her eye and smile. A split second later, she rushed to Francis and gave him a tight hug.
"Thank you, Francis."
"No problem. Now step out of the room for a second, I'm going to get the Tracer from Mom's room."
The Tracer found residual ghost energy in the room, as well as some parts of the house. None of them were older than around the time Marti came to stay with him and Mom, which came as a small relief to Francis. Unfortunately, the energy didn't match any profile in the database, nor did Wybie's name and description. It could be a good thing. If Wybie didn't have a criminal record or wound up on a suspect list then he probably wasn't dangerous.
It could also mean that he's clever enough not to get caught. Since none of the adults have been able to spot him, that was a theory that became frighteningly real for Francis.
He searched through the database until Mom got home, and then continued searching once he was convinced she was asleep. He didn't know how long he was on the computer, he just knew he woke up to his alarm buzzing and his laptop perched precariously at the edge of his bed.
Francis could hear sizzling from the kitchen. He wondered how long Mom would keep up these weekday breakfasts before exhaustion overturned her parental guilt. By the time he got dressed and ready for school, a plate of French toast and scrambled eggs was waiting for him at the table. Marti was already halfway finished with hers. Mom frowned the moment he walked into the kitchen.
"You stayed up again." She said flatly.
"I went to bed as soon as you got home." Francis defended weakly.
"You don't look like you did. Francis, were you on your computer all night?"
"I was studying." In a way that was true.
"Sure you did, Francis. You know most of that studying is useless if you don't get any sleep."
Not with what I was studying. He couldn't help thinking.
"Walking Marti to school will help wake me up," Francis said as he took his seat, "And maybe some coffee."
"You're too young for coffee." Mom said automatically, sipping from her mug both times the word "coffee" was mentioned.
"Sure" Francis said, his mouth already full of French toast. He waited to swallow his bite before he asked, "Are you going to be home late again tonight?"
"Hopefully not as late as last night, but I'm not sure yet."
Francis looked over to Marti with a smile.
"Might be another night of just you and me, Marti."
Unless Wybie stops by again…
The thought was enough to wipe his smile away.
"Hey Mom, I was thinking, maybe we should change the house security code this week."
Both Mom and Marti stared at him, one suspicious, the other nervous.
"Why's that, Francis? You haven't been sharing the code, have you?"
"Of course not, Mom, I wouldn't think of that. I just think, you have the same code since you installed the system, that's been at least a couple of years. You don't who's seen what or what's been hacked during that time, so it might be good to change the code just to be safe."
Mom's suspicious glare softened to a wary, tired look.
With a shrug, she answered, "Okay, if we can find the manual, you can help me change the code on Saturday when I have time off."
Francis smiled, "I'd be happy to."
At the corner of his eye, he could see Marti frowning at him. He couldn't quite see the worry and fear in her eyes.
During the whole walk to Marti's school, Francis had to assure her that changing the house code was necessary. She didn't fight him too much on it, perhaps because she was grateful that he didn't tell Mom about Wybie. Nonetheless, she wasn't happy with him when she scurried to her classroom. His walk to Casper High was spent mulling over Wybie. There's nothing on the database on him. The other option was to ask his parents or godparents personally, as they tend to know more than the database, but he didn't want the grownups to know in case they overreact. He didn't want Marti to be punished just because he was worried for her. Besides, none of them would able to see Wybie – could Uncle Danny see him? - There's a chance that they won't believe Francis, even with the ecto-signature Francis found. "It could be a fluke" he could hear Dad say, "with all the ghost weapons your mother brings home there's a chance it could make the Tracer create a false positive." Or something like that. The fact that Francis hasn't seen the ghost personally could be used against him. No, he needs to get more information on Wybie before he can tell Mom or Dad about any of this. Same for the godparents.
That just left him with Necro.
Francis squirmedinternally at the thought of asking her for help. She might rat him out again like she did with the Freak Show guy. There's also the fact that she hasn't been all that stable since the trial. If she did remember Wybie at all, there's the rick that some obscure little memory involving him could trigger another breakdown. She could wind up freezing up (both figuratively and literally) before Francis could anything good out of her.
But still, Marti did say Wybie knew both Francis and Ophelia. And Necro tended to know almost as much about ghosts as their parents did. More so in some aspects. And it's not like he had any other options.
He didn't get to see her until gym class, and even then Coach Baxter was giving her extra rounds of every exercise the class had to do so he had to wait a while to get her alone. Then came the sit-ups and the need for a partner. Francis made a beeline for Ophelia but was blocked by her friend Abi.
"Can I help you?" Abi said, arms crossed in the best "mean girl" pose that she could muster.
"I need to talk to Ophelia." Francis said as he made a side-step to the left. Abi was quick to block him again.
"Like hell you will! I'm not going to let you hurt my best friend again."
"When have I ever hurt her?"
"You pushed her into the pool and got her suspended."
"Technically I didn't hurt her, and she was going to have to go into the water anyway."
Abi gave him a glare so harsh that Francis had to take a step back. It surprised him how intimidating she managed to look, despite being a tiny blonde girl half his size.
"Look, I get that your parents and the Fentons are friends and I get why Phé doesn't want to jeopardize that friendship by letting your parents know what a horrible jerk you are. She's willing to forgive a lot of your crap, but I'm not." The last two words she emphasized by poking his chest. Abi's long, manicured nails managed to hurt him a little.
"It's not like that, I really need to talk to Ophelia. It's really important, maybe life or death."
"Life or death" Abi parroted back with a snort. "I highly doubt that. If it were 'life or death' why don't you talk to your mom? Or Mr. Fenton? You know what is life or death? Ophelia when her ice core acted up. Do you know what it's like seeing your best friend on a gurney and not being allowed to comfort her-"
"Abi, wait,"
Ophelia appeared beside Abi, a hand on her shoulder.
"I think this might be serious," Ophelia said, "He called me Ophelia, twice. He never uses my real name."
Abi turned to Ophelia. Her expression softened drastically, looking more like the bubbly cheerleader Francis was familiar with.
"You don't have to help him. You're still recovering for the trial, you don't have to do anything if you don't want to."
"It's okay, really" Ophelia forced a half smile to reassure Abi. Even Francis could spot the hesitance. "If it gets too much, I'll let you know."
Abi glared at Francis one more time before taking a step back. Abi left them alone and found a sit-up partner in a girl that Francis vaguely recognized as another cheerleader, though not without giving him the "I'm watching you" gesture.
"Did you want me to go first?" Ophelia asked Francis.
Francis, still a little stunned from his encounter with Abi, took a moment to process the question.
"Oh, uh, no, no, I can go first."
Francis spent his rounds of sit-ups explaining his situation at home and Marti's not-so-imaginary friend. Ophelia didn't say a word, only held his feet down and listened.
"Okay, that's fifty." Ophelia said finally, "It's my turn."
Francis pulled himself up his knees. He waited for Ophelia wriggle into the right position and then held her feet down.
"So, Wybie is a ghost." Ophelia said after the fist curl. "Marti made friends with a ghost, what's wrong with that?"
"What's wrong is that nobody's seen him but Marti. They all think that she made him up and she's getting upset trying to tell people that he's real. And this ghost broke into our house, don't forget."
"Yeah but he's just a kid, they don't understand stuff like breaking and entering. It took me years to understand that I'm not allowed to go inside a room if the door is locked…"
Ophelia stopped and propped herself up.
"Are you sure nobody's seen him? I think I remember Millie and Luci mentioning him once."
Francis took his hands off Ophelia's feet as he thought about it.
"Well, maybe not nobody. Marti's teacher told that her whole class would blame stuff on Wybie."
"So the kids have seen him, but none of the adults have seen Wybie-"
Ophelia's eyes went wide with a bright flicker of green.
"Wybie. Wye-bee. Y. B. – Oh my god, I'm so stupid!" She flung herself back on the floor, her hands slapped over her face.
Francis raised an eyebrow.
"No arguments here, by why are you stupid?"
"Youngblood! That's who Marti's been hanging out with! I should have spotted it before when she talked about him at Nasty Burger."
Youngblood? Somehow, that name felt familiar to Francis. It left him a frustrated, gnawing feeling that he was forgetting something that he shouldn't have. A word that was at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't quite think of it.
"Who's is he again?"
Ophelia's hands disappeared, revealing the puzzled eyes beneath.
"You don't remember Youngblood? We used to play with him all the time when we were little. I think our parents even knew him back in the day."
"Marti said something like that yesterday morning. She said Wybie told her that he knew about us, he wanted her to ask I think."
Ophelia propped herself back up. Her hands appeared again to hug her knees. "And what did you tell her?"
"The truth, that we were never friends. Not since kindergarten, at least."
"Of course you'd say that. You know, we may not have been good friends, but we still had fun once in a while. Youngblood would usually bring that out in us. Throw us into this intense imaginary game that we forget our problems, at least for the moment."
"Fenton!"
Both Ophelia and Francis' heads snapped over to Coach Baxter, glaring at them from across the gymnasium.
"Why aren't you crunching!"
"Sorry, Coach Baxter." Ophelia clipped.
"You will be sorry. I was going to give you one hundred sit-ups, but now let's do one-fifty. Foley, you make sure she does them all."
"Yes, sir" Francis said automatically. He could feel Abi's eyes burn holes into the back of his head.
Ophelia rolled her eyes and let her body drop down to the ground. They were quiet as Ophelia completed the first twenty, enough to satisfy Coach Baxter and take his attention off of them.
"So, why can't the adults see Youngblood?" Francis asked the moment Baxter's back was turned.
"It's just his thing. Only the young can see him, hence the name. Well, young humans, ghosts seem to see him just fine."
Francis felt the words stick to his throat.
"Is Youngblood…is he…"
"Is he dangerous?" Ophelia asked for him. "No…not really…"
"What do you mean 'not really'?"
"I mean that he wouldn't hurt her on purpose. But you know, little kids, they don't pay as much attention. There's always the chance that he could get carried away in a game."
"That's not as comforting as you think it is. Even if he doesn't mean to cause Marti trouble, he already is. Mom is worried about her, her teacher thinks she's some kind of mischief ringleader, and they all think she's got some secondhand trauma. I need him to stop."
"Then maybe you need to talk to him. Let him know that he's causing you and Marti grief."
"He didn't want me to know he was in our house last night. I don't think he wants to talk to me or anyone whose age is in the double digits."
"Well, last night he probably thought you would stop their game…which you actually did….so maybe he'll be willing to hear you out when you're not a buzzkill. Have Marti help set it up with you two if you think he's going to fly off the moment you're in range. If he refuses to your terms, or to talk at all, then you should probably tell Auntie Val."
"It's not as easy as you make it sound."
"You wanted my help, that's the best I can give."
"I just wanted you to ID a ghost, that's not the same as giving advice like you know my life better."
Ophelia was curled up to a sitting position at this point. She gave him a glare before softening into a shrug.
"Whatever, man."
"Fenton!" Baxter called again.
"I'm crunching, I'm crunching!"
More misfortune happened to Francis that day in school, starting with finding his clothes under a running shower. He thought about asking Necro to phase the water off, but he thought he had talked to her too much that day and walking around in his gym clothes isn't the worst thing in the world.
Later he found his lunch had too much salt in it…even his milk and pudding cup. One of his textbooks disappeared, even though he was sure he put it in his bag right before the class he needed it for. By the end of the school day, he found that book in his locker. All the pages were scribbled over in crayon.
Now Francis was certain that none of this was just bad luck. Now he had another reason to talk to Youngblood.
Francis made it to Overlook Elementary earlier than usual, though to him it felt longer with all the anger and worry buzzing inside his head. Marti wasn't out in the playground, so he assumed that she was in the classroom like yesterday. When he got to the classroom, however, he found only Mrs. Jackson there, sitting at her desk grading homework.
His stomach dropped.
He fumbled with the door and stumbled in. Mrs. Jackson looked up at him surprised but smiled quickly.
"Oh, hello Francis. Did you talk to your parents what I said about yesterday?"
"Where's Marti?"
Mrs. Jackson's smiled dropped immediately. Finally, she picked up on Francis' panicking body language and matched it with her own look of fear.
"Is she not out in the playground?"
"No, I looked."
Immediately, Mrs. Jackson shot out of her desk and rushed past him out of the room.
"I'm going to check with the car pick up, you look at the playground again. Maybe she's at the bathroom."
"Okay, I'll check her phone too."
Francis followed Mrs. Jackson towards the school entrance. He called Marti's phone two, three, four, five times. All of it went to voicemail. He rapidly texted as he made his way to the playground.
Marti where r u
Please answer ur phone.
"Marti?" He called out, "Marti? Where are you!"
He scanned the entire playground, taking momentary breaks to look at his phone for a reply. Mrs. Jackson scurried up to him, her normally dark skin a corpse gray.
"I checked the car pick up and all the girls bathrooms, she's not there."
"She's not answering her phone either." Francis returned to shouting out for Marti, now aided by a somewhat winded Mrs. Jackson.
"Marti? Marti!"
"What's going on?"
Francis choked on a shout. He scanned to see Owen walk up to him, with little Millie in tow.
"Is everything okay?" Owen asked again.
"My sister," Francis rattled out with a panicked breath. "We can't find Marti? Have you seen her?"
Owen looked just as terrified as he was. Owen knelt down to Millie, trying to hide his panic.
"Millie, did you happen to see Marti after your class let out?"
Millie nodded. "She was with Wybie."
"Millie, this is serious-" Mrs. Jackson started, but Fracis was quick to stop her with a hand in her face.
"Where did you see her with Wybie?" Francis said, maybe a little too harshly.
"They walked to the end of the playground and disappeared. He didn't look happy."
"Why is that?"
Millie shrugged. "Something about a code."
"Do you hear him say anything else?"
"He said he wanted to go to someplace fun. I wanted to go but I'm not supposed to leave school without Owen or Mommy or Daddy." Millie turned back to her brother. "Was that good?"
"That was very good, Millie, very good" Owen said before he wrapped in a hug. He turned back to Francis. "This is a ghost thing, isn't it?"
"Yeah, yeah it is." Francis turned back to Mrs. Jackson. "You need to call my mom. Tell her Wybie's real, that he's a ghost named Youngblood. Tell her she need Fenton Specs and a Tracer because adults can't see him."
He didn't wait to get a response from any of them, he bolted out of the school and down the street. He heard some garbled shouts behind him, but it didn't stop him. He had to find Marti, with or without his mom. In fact, in this case, he might do better than his Mom.
By the time Francis got home to grab a few ghost hunting essential, he had cooled down enough to remember that Marti had a locator on her phone. A locator he had access to. He thanked every deity he could think of when his phone showed that her phone's locator hadn't been turned off. She was heading towards the Observatory…the highest point in Amity Park. Without a second thought, Francis picked took a wrist ray and a mini Thermos from Mom's home armory and his jet sled from the garage. It took no time guessing the combination for both lockers.
He was flying halfway there when Mom finally called him.
"Francis Damon Foley, what the hell to you think you are doing!"
"Wybie's not made up, Mom, he's a ghost. He's taking her to the Observatory, I have to go help her."
"You just finished your grounding from the last time you went off on your own."
"This is different, Mom, you can't see him. No adult can. I'm the only one who is able to stop it."
"No, you're not, Francis, you're just a kid-"
"A kid is what we need right now. If you want to punish me, fine, I'll take whatever you got, but I've got to help Marti. Meet us at the Observatory, hurry!"
He hung up the phone before Mom could response. He's definitely going to get in trouble for that.
It wasn't too long before he made it to the Observatory. From the outside deck he could see two tiny specks. One was glowing. As he got closer, and the specks grew, he could see the glowing figure was that of a boy dressed as an old-timey pilot. He had that deathly white skin most ghosts had, with grey freckles on his cheeks. His bright green eyes shined through his aviator goggles and Francis knew he had green hair under that leather helmet.
Memories came surging back. Youngblood, Ophelia's little ghost friend. His little ghost friend. The little adventures they would go on, all the trouble that would make. A few times, there was a skeleton that would turn into little animals to fit their make-believe adventures, telling them the right words to use. What ever happen to that weird skeleton ghost?
Even with these memories going through his mind, Francis still noticed Marti beside Youngblood. She was standing on top of the stone railing, looking down the steep cliff side. She looked worried, unsure. Youngblood was encouraging her towards the end, pantomiming an airplane.
"Marti!" Francis called out, still a ways away.
Both Marti and Youngblood shot up to look at him. Marti's worried look became a little more relieved. Youngblood's happy smile became a bratty pout. He said something to Marti, but she shook her head. She looked like she was about to cry. Whatever she said to Youngblood made him angry. Without warning, he pushed Marty off the railing, sending her down the cliffside.
"MARTI"
Francis dug his heeling into a button on the back of the jet sled, making it blast through the air in double the speed. He was close to closing the distance when a ghost ray flew past his left ear. He threw a glance at Youngblood, who turned his head into a machine gun seen on biplanes. He was trying to slow him down, Francis thought, he didn't want him to save Marti.
Tough.
Francis zigged, zagged, and spiraled on his sled, trying to lose as little speed as possible. He felt a slight sting on his shoulder, but he didn't even think to look. His eyes were all on his little sister.
She was three quarters of the way towards the ground when he finally caught up to her. He reached out for her. He missed when he grabbed for her waist, but with a split second of readjustment, he hooked his arms under her armpits. She let out a yelp, and then began to cry. Francis changed his grip to hug her tightly.
"I got you, it's okay. Shhh, I got you now, you're safe."
"He-he said he was-was going to t-teach me how to fly!" Marti sobbed out.
"It's okay, it's not your fault."
"My-my pits hurt."
"It's okay, we'll get you checked-ow!"
Another sting hit his shoulder. Francis looked up to see two green lights shining down at him. Francis sneered.
"Marti, get behind me and hold on tight. We're going to put Wybie on time out."
As soon as Marti wiggled her way behind him and got a tight hold on his waist, Francis steered the sled to shoot upwards. He dodged the rays and shot a few of his own. The closer her got to Youngblood, the closer his shots got to their intended target. Youngblood began to back away by the time they made it to the deck, but that didn't stop Francis. He got one shot in Youngblood's back, right between the shoulder blades. The blast was enough to knock the ghost over and faceplant onto the floor. Before Youngblood could think to phase through, Francis activated his Thermos and caught Youngblood in a beam. He held Youngblood in the air as he and Marti got off the jet sled and stepped onto the safe, solid ground.
"You ruined everything, Franny!" Youngblood whined. Was his voice always that grating?
"You were going to kill my sister!" Francis shouted back.
"So? You wouldn't have missed her. You would've gotten a knew sister before you even knew she was gone."
"What are you even talking about!?"
"Oh forget it. You wouldn't understand."
"I don't think I'd want to understand psychotic little brats that like to hurt little girls."
"I didn't want to hurt her!"
"Then what do you think you were doing sending her to her death."
"I was trying not to lose another friend!"
Youngblood's childish pout turned into something much more saddened and pained.
"You don't know what it's like, having all your friends grow up and forget you, not even seeing you. I'm tired of being left alone, I just wanted a friend who won't grow up."
"And you decided to make a ghost out of my sister! There have to be other ghost kids you could hang out with."
"No, there aren't. They all get turned into human kids and grow up and forget. Then there are the kids who get ghost families and become their little ghost clones, then they don't want anything to do with you unless you want to be adopted and turn into a little ghost clone. I don't want any of that. I'm not doing it again. I don't want grown-ups telling me what to do and I don't want to be a grown up. I just want to be a kid and have friends that want to stay kids and not turn into stinky teenagers like you."
Francis cocked his head to the side, unable to process what Youngblood was telling him. He wondered if Uncle Danny would get it. Or Necro.
"Okay, so I don't get what you're talking about, like, at all, but I'm pretty sure murdering your friends is the answer. I mean moral questions aside, what makes you think Marti would stay your friend after what you did?" Francis turned over to Marti, who was still crying and visibly shaken. " Would you still have stayed friends with Wybie if he turned you into a ghost and took you away from your family?"
Marti couldn't find the strength to speak, only shaking her head vigorously. Youngblood crossed his arms and glared at her. "Some friend you are."
"You're one to talk."
With that, Francis sucked Youngblood into the Thermos. He collapsed onto the ground, propping his head against the stone pillars on the railing.
"Maybe Mom was right about leaving this stuff to the grownups." He muttered half to himself.
Marti scooted next to him, staring at the Thermos in his hand.
"I feel bad about Wybie."
"He pushed you off a cliff, Marti."
"Yeah, but he was lonely. He doesn't have a Mommy or a Daddy or a big brother to tell him if something's bad or good. I don't think I want to be his friend anymore, but I hope he finds someone who does. You think he's going to prison?"
"Most likely. We can talk to Mom and Uncle Danny about that."
Francis could feel the strength leave him, as well as the pain in his shoulders from Youngblood's rays. He didn't even have the strength for strong emotions, he was tired all over.
"How about we rest here and wait for Mom to come get us?"
"Okay" Marti said with a similarly exhausted voice. She must have cried herself tired, He thought. Or maybe she's in shock.
He hoped it was the first one.
Naturally, Mom found them first. The rest of her squad got there by the time she was finished yelling at Francis and Marti and started hugging them and crying. Said squad were very uncomfortable as they had never seen her cry before.
Dad met them in the hospital, looking just as frantic and angry as Mom was. Marti had sprains under her armpits where Francis caught her as well as a mild concussion. She didn't mind it when they told her she had to stay home for school for the next few days. Francis had pretty bad burns from the ghost rays and it will need time to heal. Francis didn't mind it, not as much as Marti's concussion. It helped a little that he got a note excusing him from gym for the next couple of weeks so the burns healed properly.
Mom chose to take time off work to treat Marti and monitor her symptoms, following all of the doctor's instructions. Mom was sending Francis back to the analogue age for a month, but followed it with a hug and telling him how proud she was of him for protecting his sister. Dad chimed into the praises, promising a present once Francis served his time.
"To be honest, I don't know how guys did this stuff at my age once, let alone every night for a whole year."
"Your father had Uncle Danny and Aunt Sam to do most of the heavy lifting," Mom said with a smirk, "I did everything by myself"
"With the help of a mysterious benefactor that turned out to be evil" Dad muttered under his breath. Mom elbowed him in the ribs for that.
"Well, just like everything you get better the more you do it," Mom said, "And since we were the only ghost hunters that had a clue what they were doing, we had a lot of practice." Realizing her mistake, she added with a stern finger wag, "Do not take that as encouragement to do anything like this again."
Francis raised his hands up defensively, and immediately winced from the pain in his shoulders.
"Believe me, I'm not planning on getting shot again anytime soon."