Thanks for all the reviews, guys!

Apologies to Divine-Red-Crayon and azuretears though. I originally planned on responding to you guys in the beginning of chapter two, but by the time I remembered to do that, I had just uploaded chapter two, and school was beginning the next day (it was 11:00 at night, so I was up too late as it was.) My Bad! Anyway, I'm not going to make the same mistake again. Here goes:

Divine-Red-Crayon, yoyo, and SpotlessLadyBug: Thank you so much for your encouragement! I promise, there's plenty more story to come!

azuretears: Thank you especially for everything! Namely, for making me realize that my summary was WAY too long and that I had completely forgotten to respond to my reviewers. Sorry, first time with a story! Thank you for all the pointers!

Okay then, I hope that'll make up for my tardiness! Thanks again for all your support, everyone! Now, on with the story!

Mac peeked out nervously from the alley, looking up and down the street. No one on the sidewalk, and the streets were clear except for a couple cars who didn't seem to notice an eight-year-old boy wandering about downtown.

With a sigh of utter relief Mac crept out into the open and began to make his way back in the direction of home.

"So far, so good." He whispered to himself. Of course, he remembered, there wasn't too much to worry about. Well, besides the fact that he was being used as a pawn in his older brother's quest for more drugs, at the moment things were working out pretty well. Of course, these Saturday morning runs were always the easiest. His Mom was usually gone by seven-thirty, which meant that Mac could meet Ben in the alley by eight. When the sale was done, then Mac could come home, slip it into Terrence's room (where the dumb ape would still be asleep until noon) and then he would be free to spend his day at Foster's without any worry at all. Plus, of course, this early in the morning there was always the greatly reduced chance of being caught by anyone-

BEEP! BEEP!

At the sound of the car horn blaring directly behind him, Mac almost leapt three feet in the air with a horrified scream of surprise. Immediately he whirled about, his arms raised high above his head.

"AAAAAA! I didn't do anything! I didn-" he stopped in mid-sentence when he realized he wasn't facing a police cruiser. In reality, the small, flamboyantly colored bus that pulled up next to him on the curb was probably the last thing he had been expecting at all. As Mac gasped in relief, the doors of the Foster's bus opened to reveal a very concerned redheaded young woman.

"Mac?" Frankie asked, cocking her head. "Jeez, what are you doing out here this early?"

"Frankie! Uh, um, you see, I, uh, I had to go, and, uh, and…" Mac struggled to find a somewhat believable excuse.

"Ohhhhhhh. Now I see." Frankie replied with a smirk. "It's pretty clear what happened here." she said, almost accusingly.
Mac gave a hard gulp. It was all over now…

"Morning errands suck, don't they?" Frankie laughed, pointing to the back of the bus, where at least twenty grocery bags lined the seats. "What'd you have to get for your Mom? Loaf of bread? Quart of milk? Lucky, wish I was you. I woke up half an hour ago and found that there had absolutely NO cereal left in the house. You should've been there to see the look on the Bunny's face thought. Ha, I thought Mr. Anal-Compulsive was getting to wet himself right there in the kitchen!" she chuckled, Mac forcing himself to join along with a nervous snicker. Frankie smiled warmly and motioned him to climb aboard.

"Well, don't just stand there! Hop on, I'll take you over to the house."

"Gee, thanks Frankie!" Mac replied gratefully, ascending the bus stairs. "Thank y-wait! Wait! No!"

"No what?" Frankie shot him a quizzical look as she stepped on the gas.

"Frankie, wait! You gotta turn the bus around, I need to drop something off at home!" Mac pleaded. Being late to pick up the goods from Ben was bad enough, but Mac knew very well that if he failed to drop off the goods at home on time, the repercussions for that particular violation would be ten times worse. As he broke out into a panicked sweat, Frankie began to feel a little unnerved by the eight-year-old's frantic behavior.

"Why, what is it? Did you pick up something that needs to be stored in the fridge?"

"Please, Frankie, I just want-"

"What's the rush? I thought your Mom is at work by now."

"Yeah, she is. Wait, no, I mean no! No, hold on, I mean-" Mac spouted incoherently, rapidly loosing his wits.

"Why can't you just take it with you?" Frankie asked as if it was no big deal. "I can stick it in the fridge when we get back to Fos-"

"Frankie, I really need you to just-"

"No, it'll be fine. I'll even take a sticky note and mark it for you so-"

"FRANKIE I JUST WANT TO DROP IT OFF AT HOME!" Mac involuntarily shrieked.

For a few seconds, both boy and girl just stared at each other, equally shocked by the outburst. Finally, Frankie shrugged her shoulders as she relented, still eyeing Mac a bit warily as he took a seat.

"Fine, fine. If it means that much to you, I'll stop by your apartment. But still…"

"Hey Frankie, do you want me to set these all out on the table?" Wilt asked, pointing to a bunch of unload cereal boxes still in their brown grocery bags. Frankie shook her head.

"Nah, I think we have enough set out for everyone. Just set those in the pantry for now."

"Okay then!" Wilt answered cheerily, picking up the bags and carting them off, whistling happily. Frankie however, always one to be uplifted when Wilt was around, did not share in on her friend's usually infectious joyful mood today. She chewed her lip anxiously as she unloaded some eggs into the fridge, mentally going over the facts of a rapidly growing problem.

Something was wrong with Mac. But even worse, Frankie realized unhappily, this wasn't something new to her, not at all. Always the observant one, she had been noticing an obvious change that had been taking place in Foster's favorite eight-year-old for a few weeks now.

When he first began showing signs of odd behavior, Frankie had just brushed it off as maybe a little problem at home or school that probably wasn't her business and would blow over in a few days or so. However, as those "few days" stretched out into a couple days, and then finally into weeks with still no sign of recovery in sight, she realized she had been wrong, very wrong with that assumption. Mac was not improving, and if anything, after that whole episode downtown that morning, his plight was only growing at a pace the girl could barely comprehend. All the signs were pointing to the same fact: whatever this thing was, it was something she couldn't ignore anymore.

First of all, Mac was now always leaving the house early once or twice a week, always attributing it to an overload of "homework." That of course was the biggest lie Frankie had ever heard in her life. Why in the world would he getting that much homework in elementary school, of all places? She didn't even get that work until she was in the seventh grade! Why would they put that much stress on an eight-year-old? No elementary school teacher could possibly be that cruel. It was obvious that every time Mac brought up that homework excuse, he was using it as a lame cover-up for something else. But what?

Whatever it was, it didn't seem good. Frankie deduced this from the peculiar change in behavior that she noticed had taken place in Mac over the past weeks. Where was that happy brown-haired little bundle of joy and enthusiasm who always showed up with a grin at three o'clock every afternoon? Mac seemed to have unexpectedly developed an extreme case of paranoia overnight. He was now jumpy and nervous all the time, constantly checking his watch, always acting like someone was going to leap out and attack him. Now, whenever Mac acted like...well, Mac, those occurrences were now extremely rare if anything. What was wrong? The poor little guy wasn't even able to handle that friendly honk she gave him that morning, she could've sworn Mac would've leapt clear out of his skin if he could.

Speaking of that, just what in the world was he doing downtown anyway that early in the morning?

"Stupid, stupid, stupid." Frankie grumbled as she smacked herself angrily on the forehead. Why the hell did she think he was making a run to the grocery store? She saw him dart out of the alleyway near the pharmacy, which was at least five blocks opposite of the supermarket! Just what was really going on there? It was all too clear he wasn't there to pick up a prescription. Something ugly was going on.

Scratch that, she realized with a groan. Something definitely very ugly that was going on, Frankie thought as she contemplated the fourth and most unpleasant piece of evidence. Whatever was happening to Mac, foul play was definitely playing a major role in it.

During the past few weeks, Mac had definitely been showing up everyday with more than the usual amount of bumps, cuts and bruises. Now, Frankie of course knew very well what a jerk his oafish older brother Terrence was to him. But was it really just the usually bullying gone overboard? No, it couldn't be. She knew he liked to pick on Mac, but could he really be that diabolical? And why the sudden increase then in harassment lately?

Already she had tried to pry out of Mac what was going on, but whenever she tried to inquire, she never got very much of a response. Actually, whenever she asked about a new cut or bruise, he would immediately always attribute it to some game of soccer that got out of hand, or a basketball match out back that went a bit awry. Was it really just the result of a little roughhousing with friends?

"Wilt?" she asked hopefully.

"Yeah, what it is Frankie?" the lanky imaginary friend answered as he loaded some more groceries onto a rather tall shelf.

"Um…have you guys been playing a little more, uh…roughly than usual? You know, you, Ed, Coco, Bloo…Mac?" she asked, hoping for the best.

"Sorry, not that I know of. We always keep it pretty safe."

"Really. Um, no one getting...hurt or anything?"

"Nope." Wilt answered with a smile and a thumbs-up. "Nothing but good, clean fun! Why do you ask?"

Well, so much for that option. "Oh, nothing." Frankie replied, a little crushed

That was it. There was no point in denying the blaring obvious truth. Mac was in trouble, and whatever it was, it was definitely serious. But what was it? That was Frankie's next big dilemma. Whatever it was, the little guy was obviously refusing to tell anyone about it. Not Wilt, Ed, Coco, probably not his overworked Mom, not even his best friend, Bloo. How awful of a situation did you have to be in where you couldn't even tell anyone the blatantly obvious?

Well, not matter what's going on, he's not hiding it from me any longer! Frankie mentally resolved to herself. There was absolutely no way that she was going to let Mac practically sink to the ninth level of hell in front of her own eyes and not do a thing about it. If he didn't want to tell anyone about it, then she would have to make him tell her about it. It probably wasn't going to be easy, but what choice did she really have?

She couldn't just stand aside and let her friend destroy himself like this, right in front of everyone. No, not Mac. Not her friend. What would she do without him? Not her special little guy, he was almost like a...a...little...

What was the word she was looking for?

" Miss. Frances! Miss Frances!" Mr. Herriman's voice on the house intercom sharply interrupted Frankie's dramatic resolution. She cursed mentally and slammed her fist down on the counter.

"WHAT?" she yelled back irritably.

"Miss Frances, we have a situation that requires your urgent and immediate attention!"

"Aw c'mon! I'm in the middle of something important here!" Frankie protested.

"Miss Frances, please, the situation is dire! The third level hallway has become saturated from floor to ceiling with, um, well, what appears to be a gooey substance of a somewhat... well, chocolate-like flavor…"

"WHAT?" Frankie screeched, barely able to realize the words that reached her ears. "Oh no...oh no! No! No! Not again! No! No no no no no! NOOOOOOOOO!" she wailed, grabbing a mop from the nearby utility closet and rushing up the stairs.

"Wilt! I need five buckets of hot water, third floor, stat! Get Ed to block off the hallway! AND BLOO! YOU BETTER PRAY TO GOD I DON'T GET MY HANDS ON YOU! IF I CATCH YOU, I SWEAR I WILL STICK YOU ON A ROASTING SPIT AND SERVE YOU FOR DINNER TONIGHT! YOU HEAR ME? BLOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Mac shuddered violently as he went over the day's events. That was definitely way too close for comfort. And by the looks of things, he wasn't out of the clear yet. Frankie was definitely on to him. Mac knew that she was beginning to see through it all. The going home to do homework bit, all his excuses for his cuts and bruises, she definitely wasn't buying any of that. What was with her lately? It was like someone hired her to act as his own private interrogator. She asked him about every bump, every scratch, why he was leaving every time he went for the door, Christ! Couldn't she just leave him alone? No one could know! The results would literally be disastrous for him. However, it wasn't going to stay that way if Frankie kept bombarding him with questions every time he showed up at Foster's. Why did she always have to stick her nose into his business?

That outbreak that morning was a close call. Mac knew that he couldn't let that happen again, he couldn't let Frankie get to him like that. God knows he was practically at breaking point already, he couldn't keep up the twisted game of charades for much longer. He was lucky today, though. Shortly after they got back to Foster's, Bloo's third attempt at trying to create an "indoor pudding pool" had become the largest pudding-related disaster Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends had ever seen. This meant of course that Frankie had no time today for any question-and-answer sessions as her job required her to tend to the catastrophe immediately. Even as he had left the house a few minutes ago, she was still unsuccessfully battling the chocolaty mess upstairs as far as he knew.

"Hello? Anyone? I'm home!" Mac announced as he entered the apartment. No answer. His mom must still be at work, which was usual.

Wait, but in that case, then where was Terr-

Before he knew it, once found again found himself in an all-too familiar position. Pressed hard against the living-room wall, Mac came face to face with a furious-looking Terrence.

"What the fuck, Mac?" he yelled angrily. "What…the…hell…happened…today?" he demanded, shaking Mac violently to emphasize every word.

"What? I didn't do anything! Everything was fine! You got your stuff! You got your stuff!" Mac cried, trying to wriggle out of his brother's firm grasp.

"Lyin' little son of a bitch!" Terrence roared, smacking the boy hard against the wall.

"That's not what Ben told me. What did you tell her?" he demanded angrily.

"Tell who what? Please, I didn't tell anyone anyt-OW!" Mac cried as Terrence struck him hard against his face.

"Don't screw with me, asshole! Ben told me everything that happened this morning. He told me that right after you got the weed, he saw you get on the bus from that goddamn freak house!" he accused, giving Mac another hard slap to the face. "You told her, didn't you! The redheaded chick? Squealer! Why I oughta…"

"Please Terrence no! FRANKIE DOESN'T KNOW ANYTHING!" Mac screamed before going silent, eyes wide open in dumb terror. Terrence continued to glare at his horrified little brother for a few more seconds, until finally his crooked, misshapen teeth broke out into an ugly smile.

"Good boy, I knew you wouldn't let me down." He said with a grunting laugh. He loosened his hold on Mac's shirt, causing the boy to tumble to the floor with a loud thump. As Mac tried to cover up the beginnings of a nosebleed, Terrence knelt down and roughly shoved a small bag into Mac's lap.

"All right little dude, listen up! Ben's gonna get in a big shipment in a day or two, some real high-class stuff. When Mom's working late Monday, I'm gonna have some friends over so we can try it out. That is, after you pick it up for us, of course." He said with a cruel snigger. "Now, there's like a hundred bucks in there, and we all chipped in for this. This is a big pick up, so don't fuck this one up, okay?"

Mac could only nod, trying to clot the blood that now streamed furiously from his nose.

"Oh yeah, one more thing." Terrence added with an evil grin. "Just a reminder, if you think you ever can tell anyone about this, especially anyone at that stupid house…" the teen cracked his knuckles loudly.

Mac could only sob once in horror as his brother advanced upon him.

Well, there we go! Tell me what you think!