Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, y'all. Glad you like the story so far. I'm really digging writing a young Abby. :) I have no idea how long this fic will be, but I've got plenty more ideas so stick with me, 'k? Thanks again!

Chapter 4

GONE AWAY IS THE BLUEBIRD

*

The first two days of Maggie's absence passed with little incident, unless you count the fight Eric and I had about who was watching what on television. He wanted wrestling; I refused and changed it to MTV. The problem was settled when a struggle for the remote accidentally clicked it to a station showing The Wizard of Oz, a movie we'd both seen a billion times but could never get enough of. Eric liked the Flying Monkeys and the talking trees; I only cared about Dorothy, the lost girl trying to find her way home. I imagined that's what it was like for Maggie. One minute she was here and fine, the next she was swept up in a tornado of emotions that took her to some far off place where we couldn't reach her. Over the rainbow. It was easier to cope by picturing her locked up in a witch's castle, watching us through a crystal ball and wishing she could be with us, or following a yellow brick road that would lead her home, than it was to acknowledge that she'd left on purpose with a man that looked at me and my brother like we were pesky bugs he wanted to squash. Maybe he was her Tin Man, made without a heart. I decided I was the Wizard, feigning power and bravery when in reality I was just an ordinary person that couldn't give Eric what he really wanted or needed. I couldn't bring Maggie back with any more success than the Wizard in his hot air balloon, because only she had the ability to do that. Three clicks of the heels translated into a few tiny pills for Maggie, and obviously the capsules weren't as glittery and guarded as Dorothy's ruby slippers. Maggie would turn her medication over to the witch in a second. And no bucket of water could destroy the enemy that was in her own head.

I was still humming Dorothy's famous rainbow song the following day when I hefted a black garbage bag out to the dumpster and grunted as I tossed it in. That was one of my least favorite household chores, but somebody had to do it. I rubbed my hands together and jogged all the way back to my building, hesitating in the hall when I saw Mr. Goran leaving his apartment. He was a nosy weasel of a man who ogled Maggie and always smelled like that stuff you put in gerbil cages. I despised the way he pronounced my name, drawing out the vowels like he was the caterpillar in the Alice in Wonderland cartoon. And he insisted on calling me Abigail. Only Maggie called me that, and it was usually when she was mad. I knew he would ask about her since he usually did whenever he caught me alone, so I wanted to avoid speaking with him, but I didn't make it to my door fast enough.

"Good afternoon, Abigail."

I winced and slowly turned to face him. "Hi, Mr. Goran."

He studied me carefully and I could hear him checking off a list in his head: Hooded sweatshirt, wrinkled jeans, tennis shoes, no coat, no gloves, no hat = juvenile delinquent. I gave him a fake, slightly mocking smile.

"Out by yourself again, I see."

"Just takin' out the garbage," I clarified. "Gotta earn my keep."

"I haven't seen your mother out and about lately. I hope every thing is all right in there?" He motioned at our door. "Wouldn't want any problems this close to the holidays."

"Actually..." I narrowed my eyes a bit, deciding to toy with Gerbil Man Goran. If he wanted a story I could give him one. "Mom hasn't been feeling well. She's got that bug that's going around. She's been blowing chunks everywhere for three days straight." My face was still flushed from the chilly jaunt to the dumpster and I took advantage of it, putting the back of my hand against my forehead and acting faint. "I think I might be coming down with it too."

He practically jumped out of his greasy skin when I started a coughing fit, being very careless about covering my mouth. This was too easy.

"I'm so sorry to hear that," he said, tripping over himself to get away. "Give my regards to your mother and feel better soon." He was outside before I had the chance to reply.

I chuckled to myself and thought about a career in acting as I moseyed into the apartment to tell Eric about my little performance.

*

"I took my love and I took it down I climbed a mountain and I turned around And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills 'Till the landslide brought me down..."

I leaned my head against the wall and watched Scott's fingers move effortlessly across the guitar strings. It impressed me that he played with his eyes closed, never even glancing at his hands or sheet music for direction. It just flowed out of him as smoothly and naturally as his own voice. I'd never known anyone who sang so well.

We were seated in the hall, me hugging my knees to my chest and Scott right next to me with his long legs stretched in front of him. I'd been watching TV with Eric, about the only entertainment we had the last couple days, but slipped away as soon as I heard Scott's familiar sounds beckoning me to join him. Mr. Goran peeked out from behind his door and shot me the evil eye at one point, but I just ignored him. All I cared about at the moment was Scott and the song he was teaching me. It was one of his favorites, he said, written by Stevie Nicks at a time when she was uncertain about her path in life and concerned about her father. The story intrigued me and I listened carefully to the lyrics, maybe not fully understanding them but feeling the weight and emotion of them anyway. Stevie's situation had been different than mine, yet her words described something I could relate to.

"Oh, mirror in the sky What is love Can the child within my heart rise above Can I sail through the changing ocean tides Can I handle the seasons of my life Mmmm, I don't know

Well, I've been afraid of changing 'Cause I built my life around you But time makes you bolder Children get older And I'm getting older too..."

Without warning tears glistened in my eyes as he quieted and the mournful tune continued on his guitar as he silently kept time by swaying his head until the next verse. Instead of thinking about him, I found myself thinking about Maggie. My life seemed built around her - taking care of her when she was around, worrying about her when she wasn't. And like the song said, I was getting older too. I wondered if things were going to change for me and if they had changed for Stevie. Was she still scared? I was. Scared of losing Maggie but also scared of never being free of her and growing up to be like her. Scared my brother would find out I didn't know how to handle every curve she threw at us. Scared of how much I wanted to forget all of that, even Eric, and just attach myself to Scott, eating, sleeping and breathing nothing but him. A landslide of fear and uncertainty.

"I've been afraid of changing 'Cause I built my life around you But time makes you bolder Children get older And I'm getting older too

So, take this love and take it down Oh, climb a mountain and turn around If you see my reflection in the snow covered hills Well the landslide'll bring it down

And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills Well the landslide will bring it down"

I didn't even realize the song was finished until Scott opened his eyes and looked at me with genuine surprise, his features going soft and concerned. A steady stream of fat tears had been rolling down my cheeks for the last few verses and my body shook with suppressed sobs. I buried my face against my knees, not wanting him to see. I heard him lay his guitar aside, and then his hand was tentatively on my head.

"Hey there, Nightingale," he said gently, stroking my hair. "I didn't think I was that bad."

I tried to laugh but cried harder instead. His hand in my hair gave me goose bumps. "I'm sorry," I apologized without really knowing why, my words broken by those short little gasps kids do when they've thrown a tantrum and cried themselves silly. Great, I was a baby. "I liked the song. I didn't mean to cry."

"Nothing wrong with crying." He smoothed a strand of hair behind my ear and tried to get me to look at him. "Songs do that to people. Most musicians want their music to get people emotional."

Raising my head a bit, I swiped my sleeve across my face and peered up at him. "Do songs ever make you cry?" I asked curiously.

"If I'm feeling down and something's really bothering me, then yeah," he said, and I caught the allusion he was making. He used the pad of his thumb to wipe away a tear I'd missed. "Helps if I talk to someone about what's on my mind too."

I didn't trust a lot of people, especially with details about my personal life, but Scott was different. He offered an attentive ear to me without sounding like he intended to fix all my problems. He was just there to listen. "She's gone," I blurted, the tears starting again. "My mom. She leaves sometimes. It's usually no big deal, but now it's too close to Christmas. I don't know if she'll be back and Eric has to have presents. He's not even excited anymore. He's just a kid, he should be able to enjoy Christmas."

His arm felt heavy on my shoulders when he laid it there. "What about you?"

"What about me?" I questioned, confused.

"Shouldn't you be able to enjoy it too?"

I wasn't sure how to answer that. Making myself happy wasn't one of my top priorities. "I'll enjoy it if Eric does," I replied with a shrug.

"He's lucky to have a sister like you," Scott said. "I could drop dead on Christmas and my sister wouldn't even notice."

"You have a sister?" He'd never mentioned any family to me before.

"Yep. Jill. My folks kicked me out when I was sixteen and I moved in with her for awhile. It's a miracle we survived each other," he laughed, but I picked up on the sadness in his voice. "I was too wild for her taste. Wasn't long before I moved out on my own. Haven't seen any of 'em since."

How anyone could not want Scott around was beyond me. His family must be as screwed up as mine, I thought, feeling the bond intensify between us at that moment. We had more of a connection than I had realized and I loved him all the more for it, my heart going out to him for whatever pain he might have experienced because of his parents' own stupidity. They didn't know what they were missing.

"Were you scared? Being on your own, I mean."

"It was hard at first. I had to grow up pretty fast." He sounded wistful and it made me want to wrap my arms around him and tell him I understood. I was still too shy to do it. "Hit a couple low points where I didn't think I was gonna make it, but I knew it was too late to ask them to take me back. And I was too stubborn to do it anyway. I kinda wish that part had turned out differently... but the whole experience made me independent and I wouldn't trade that for nothin'. It's a good feeling when you don't have to rely on other people."

I absorbed these little insights into his mind, tucking them away with the rest of the information I'd gained about him since the first day he struck up a conversation with me by the pigeonhole mailboxes near the entrance of our building. He'd seen me opening the box marked "Wyczenski" and questioned me about the pronunciation. I didn't like my last name, but it sounded just fine when he said it.

"You know what I used to do at Christmastime to get into the spirit of things... and make some money to buy myself a gift?" he went on, breaking through my thoughtful silence. When I gazed at him questioningly, he said, "I used to play my guitar on the street corner and sing Christmas carols. It's amazing how generous people can be this time of a year to a kid freezing his ass off in the snow just to earn a couple bucks. Of course, I always tried to look extra pathetic."

He comically demonstrated a waif-like pout, adding a shiver and whimper when I smiled. I pictured him that way as a teenager, not yet fully settled into his grown-up body and just a bit more innocent around the eyes. I wondered if he would have noticed me back then too, or if I would have been just another girl with brown hair and brown eyes. I decided I was glad I'd met him now instead of then.

"So, anyway, don't worry yourself so much. If things can work out for me then I know they'll work out for a smart girl like you," Scott concluded.

I wanted to believe him, but I couldn't get rid of the image of Eric's mopey frown whenever he saw the empty spot under our tree. Then suddenly I had an idea. "Hey, can we do that?"

"Huh?"

"Can we do what you said? Sing for money. I dunno how to play guitar but... but maybe you could and I could sing. I'm not as good as you, but maybe I can make enough to buy Eric something," I explained, looking at him hopefully. He had to say yes. "I can look pathetic too." I stuck my bottom lip forward and sniffled to prove it, not knowing how woeful I already looked with my red nose and tear stained cheeks.

Scott chuckled. "Not bad. You sure you really wanna try it? It gets tedious and not everyone is a big tipper..."

"I'm sure. You'll help me, won't you? Please?" I didn't like to beg, but I had to make him agree.

He searched my eyes with his and must have seen the determination there. "All right, Toots. We can give it a go. How's tomorrow afternoon sound? I'll bring my guitar, you bring that face - they'll be putty in our hands."

"Great! That'll be great," I exclaimed, wishing he hadn't removed his arm from my shoulders now that I had perked up. Oh well, at least I would get to spend the day with him tomorrow. I could hardly wait.