I'm speechless. I know that what happened wasn't our fault. Bubbles is so upset. I want to comfort Bubbles, but I can't speak. She needs help from the Professor. Buttercup is just off in her own world. I think she's punching her punching bag.
I want to cry, but I can't. I'm sitting at the kitchen table, watching Bubbles and the Professor. It's not fair. Bubbles always gets so much attention, because she's the baby. I'm the leader, so I have to be strong. I don't want to be strong. I want to be Bubbles. She always gets more attention than I do.
Bubbles and Professor are sitting on the floor of the living room. He's singing to her. I don't really recognize the tune, but Bubbles must be enjoying it. I notice that Bubbles has stopped crying. She's just sniffling now. Buttercup would be making fun of her, but Buttercup isn't here. Professor doesn't seem to be worried about anyone but Bubbles. He always did like her best.
I see Bubbles stand up. She holds out her hand, and helps Professor up. They both vanished up the stairs, and then came back down moments later. Bubbles sat down across from me at the table, with a box of crayons and some white paper. I need to escape. Her tear-stained, pink face is depressing.
I float slowly up the stairs. I get my journal from its secret hiding place. I need to write.
The pain is making me sad.
Everyone feels so bad.
I want to run away.
This is such a bad day.
Professor doesn't care,
Bubbles needs him there,
But what about me?
Why can't he talk to me?
I am all alone.
I don't feel at home.
I don't know why I wrote a poem. I just wrote the feelings that I feel. I'm so sad. I can't tell Professor that I'm sad. He'll worry about me. He's got enough to worry about. I don't want to upset him. I wish there were something I can do.
Buttercup walks into the room. "What are you looking at, Red? It's not like this was my fault. You always blame everything on me!" Without even waiting for a reply, she stalked, angrily, back out of the room. She always was easily annoyed. I am not mad at her though, because she didn't mean anything by it. She's just sad, and anger is how she takes care of that.
After putting away my journal, I drift back downstairs. I sit back in my chair, and look at what Bubbles is still drawing. I see that she's drawn a flower picture. I pull it closer to me, and inspect it. It must be a rose. The stem is green, and it has fat, brown spines, and two fat leaves coming off of it. There are only four petals though with no center of the flower; all of the petals just kind of meet in the middle. The colors she chose were very harsh, compared to her other drawings.
She asks me if I like the flower. I smile at her, and she explains, "I drew the flower all by itself, because it's my flower for Mojo. Poor monkey. He should have shared, and maybe he'd be okay today. Professor always tells me to share, no matter what. Mojo's mommy should have told him that, too. She didn't though, which is sad. Maybe she never knew to share. How come Mojo never told us about his mommy, Blossom? Does he not have a mommy? We don't have a mommy and we're fine. Most kids have mommies, though. Huh, Blossom?"
I shrug. How am I supposed to know how Mojo would be, if he had a mom? I just know that Bubbles is right: we don't have a mommy. If we did, maybe she would take care of me. She wouldn't let me be all by myself. She would hold me like Professor holds Bubbles.
Professor comes into the kitchen and asks us, "How are you girls doing?" He pauses for just a moment, and then continues, "Oh, I mean... I shouldn't have asked that. I know. I mean... Well... just..."
Bubbles responds, "Don't worry, Professor! We're fine." She almost sounds cheery. She was sad, no more than a half-hour ago. What is wrong with her? How can she not be caring? She is smiling now. I can't believe this.
Professor continues stumbling over his words, "Okay, well, good. I mean... I know you all are sorry. Not that it's your fault at all I mean. But, do you girls know about sympathy? I mean, of course you don't. You're five years old..." Muttering, he smiles feebly, and walks out of the room.
How can I be the only one who cares? I know it wasn't my fault. I look up to see Bubbles muttering under her breath while she's coloring. I wonder what's going on with her. I wonder what's going on with Buttercup.