Here we go again! You know the drill, please read and review!
Mac sat fuming angrily behind a tree in the park in a blind rage. Stupid Frankie. What did she know? Trying to baby him the second he walked through the front door of Foster's, always trying to pry into his business when he could, especially the stuff he wanted to keep secret the most. Dammit, didn't she ever know when to stop?
Mac was tired of it all. Tired of being told what to do. Tired of being pushed around by everyone bigger and older than he was. It was bad enough with Terrence and Ben making his life a living hell almost every day. But now, after Frankie's constant intrusions culminating with what had happened a few hours ago, Mac felt like he had just been pushed over the edge completely. Was this it? Was this the way things were going to be? Was he just going to let every jerk boss him around and tell him what to do, every single day?
No.
Mac's little fists almost turned white he clenched them so tightly in blind fury. Not any more. This was it. He felt as if he had been pushed completely to his limit. At that very moment didn't care about all the threats, all the warning beatings, everything. He just couldn't take it anymore. Mac was just to angry, just so angry at everything right now he just didn't care. Enough was enough. With a look of furious determination the little boy stood up and started racing off downtown, pumping his legs furiously. This was it.
He'd show Frankie who could take care of who. He'd show Terrence who he really was. He'd show them. He'd show them all.
Ben glanced about as he restlessly paced up and down the alley. God, where was that kid? He knew better than that to show up late, especially when a big shipment came in! T
The grungy teen suddenly gasped in fright and threw himself against the wall as he heard the wail of a nearby police siren. Much to his relief though, the noise quickly faded away, meaning the car had passed on by. Well, so far so good. Still, he was becoming more and more anxious with every passing second. Clenching his teeth and cracking his knuckles, Ben decided that if the kid wasn't showing up soon, then it would probably be time for another little "talk" to remind him how things worked around here.
Suddenly, he heard footsteps nearby. The paranoid dealer looked up in shock, ready to make a run for it. However, much to his relief he quickly recognized the small figure making his way down the alley.
"Christ Mac, what the hell took you so long? God damn, you know what happens when you show up late?" he growled angrily, shaking his fist. "You little punk! Did you know what I oughta do to you?"
Mac said nothing. Eyes narrowed, he stared back boldly, completely unintimidated.
Jesus, that's weird. Ben thought. Usually during the transactions, the kid always acted like he was about to wet himself in panic. What was his deal?
No, no time for that. Normally, he wouldn't taken this chance to smack the leaving snot out of the boy, but Ben had already been waiting too long. He just wanted to make the sale and get the hell out of there. He'd enforce the "rules" next time.
"Okay Mac, let's just do this. Here's the stuff, just take it and give me-"
"No." Mac interrupted flatly. Ben looked up at him in shock. "What?"
"You heard me." Mac said again in the same flat tone.
Ben gritted his teeth angrily. He just wanted to leave. NOW. "Dammit Mac, I got no time for games! Just take the stuff!" he grunted, shoving a large bag of pot into Mac's hands. While the dealer waited impatiently, Mac just coolly looked over the sack in his hands, as if he had just forgotten what to do next. Ben was rapidly losing his patience.
"C'mon, let's go! Let's go! You know what happens next! Just hand over the-"
Before he could finish the sentence, Mac suddenly ripped the bag open with a savage tearing movement. Before the stunned teen could react in any way, the kid quickly hopped onto a discarded crate and dumped the bag's contents into the nearby dumpster, all the time with a look of furious determination on his face. By the time Ben was able to contemplate what was going on, the entire bag had been completely emptied.
"Mac…WHAT THE HELL?" he cried in dismay. Mac looked him square in the eyes as he tossed the empty bag.
"Go find yourself someone else to deliver your damn drugs. I quit." Mac replied furiously. And with that the boy turned around and made his way out of the alley.
Or at least that's Mac wanted to. Unfortunately ,plans never work out they way you want them to, especially ones that are thought up of in a second in the midst of a blind fury. He only took two steps before he was savagely tackled onto the pavement. With an angry yell, Ben picked up Mac and tossed him head first into a bunch of garbage cans.
As soon as his head hit the metal cans, all of his blind rage vanished in an instant as he fully realized what he had actuality just done. However, before he could bemoan the fact that he didn't pay more attention to his common sense, Ben snatched the boy by his shirt collar and lifted him up so the were face-to-face.
"YOU ASSHOLE!" Do you have any clue how much pot you just trashed? Jesus, what the hell is the matter with you?"
"I-I, I-I-I j-just t-thought-" Mac desperately tried to explain as he slowly realized the full consequences of his actions. Ben silenced him with a smack on the head.
"Godammit, do you have any idea what you've done? Oh God, this is it! Now you're done it! You're asking for it now!" he fumed. Keeping Mac pinned up with one hand, he took out his cell phone with the other and made a call.
"W-what are you going to do?" Mac asked, barely unable to speak above a terrified whisper.
"Hey, Terrence? Yeah, we got a problem here. Listen, don't ask, just grab the guys and bring them here. It seems that it's time for you and your kid brother to have a little "talk..."
"For Pete's sake, not again!" Frankie grumbled. Once again, she found herself a participant in the world's most one sided game of tug-of-war with the washing machine.
Already extremely frazzled, Frankie quickly gave up after a few futile pulls, throwing her end to the ground furiously.
"AUGH! That's it! I give up! I give up!" she cried, throwing up her arms in mock hysterics.
"Oh, c'mon dearie, don't throw in the towel yet! Or in this case, the bed sheet." Someone interrupted with a soft chuckle. Frankie groaned, not caring to look up as she already recognized the speaker.
"Hi Grandma." She mumbled, grabbing a stack of clean towels waiting to be folded. Madame Foster, founder and head of Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, slowly hobbled into the laundry room, clucking in mock disapproval.
"What's this, trouble with the sheets? Oh, Funny Bunny won't like that." She cracked, getting a wan smile out of her granddaughter. As Frankie resumed her towel folding, Madame Foster cocked her head and gave her a concerned look.
"Oh c'mon Frankie, what's wrong? Don't that those lousy old sheets get to you. Where's your "special helper?" Just get Mac in here and I'm sure you two will have that thing out in a jiffy!"
"Don't need him. Mac's not here." Frankie replied flatly. Madame Foster cocked an eyebrow.
"What? Odd, that's not like the little fellow at all. Mac should've shown up a while ago."
"He left early." Frankie replied again stoically, still concentrating on her folding. Madame Foster shook her head.
"Oh dear, What a shame! I was actually hoping to see you two together in action today, and if Bunny told me the truth about what was going on in here last week, you both can get into some zany predicaments." the old lady chuckled. "Oh my goodness, such an adorable pair! It's so nice that he has you."
Frankie looked up in surprise at her grandmother. "What?"
Madame Foster wagged her finger jokingly "Oh, isn't it obvious, dear? There's no need to hide it. What with his overworked mother and his dreadful older brother, it's so nice to see that he's got at least someone to look out for him.."
"Uh, Grandma, I don't think-" but before Frankie could protest any further Madame Foster simply continued to ramble on.
"All those times you've driven him home from school or something because his mother was too busy working, those moments I've found you helping him with his homework or on a school project in the library, the laughter I always hear whenever he's helping you around the house, all the rainy days I've seen you snuggled up together reading together in front of the fireplace, oh my!" The old woman chuckled. "And let's not mention how many times I've seen you shirking your duties now and then just so you can spent some time playing some silly game with the child and Bloo. Oh my, just last week I saw you outside washing the bus, then moments later you three ran by the very next window I passed shooting each other with super-soakers! Oh, all the good times you must have together."
Frankie still struggled to find some kind of retort. "No, Grandma, I...uh...you see, this morning-"
"Ha, and some people think this home is just for adopting imaginary friends." the little old lady laughed softly. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say it's almost like you've used Foster's to adopt yourself a little brother."
Frankie went momentarily silent as she contemplated her grandmother's words.
"Wait…little…."
Madame Foster hobbled over to Frankie and gave her an affectionate pat on her back.
"It's just nice that he has you to look up to dearie. That's all. Oops!" she laughed, "Well, shame on me, I just went off there, didn't I? Oh dear, I must bored you silly with my ramblings, huh? I guess that's just part of the deal when you become an old fogy like me. Good gracious, I don't even think I remember most of what I just said!" the quirky old woman cackled. "Oh well, that's the way the cookie crumbles! Ooooh, and speaking of cookies, my friend Beth from down the street gave me the loveliest new recipe for macaroons the other day! We were playing bridge-"
Frankie's mind raced furiously as the kooky old woman went prattled on. Wait, was Grandma speaking the truth? Do Mac and I... is that all...
Her brain rewound quickly, searching for any memory of what Madame Foster just listed. Yep, there it all was. There were all those insane adventures they had had together, some of the most notable the "Funny Bunny" fiasco or that none-too brief dating experience with the awful Dylan Lee. There were all the endless hours playing out in the backyard when she really should've been working and didn't care less about the fact she was shirking her duties. The all too numerous times when Mac showed up to lend a helping hand, just whenever her workload seemed too much to bear alone.
All those late night trips to drop Mac off at home. All those cold, wet afternoons spent snuggled up by the fireplace. All those times she would be sitting at her computer and hear him ask her if she could help him out on his math, or whatever. How whenever he needed something, he always came to her. And how every time, she would be more than happy to do whatever it was for him.
Madame Foster spoke the truth. Mac really was special to her, and Frankie knew it, deep in her heart. He was more than a friend, he was like a...a...
Her grandmother's words echoed briefly within her head; little brother.
"You're right."
"...So there Beth and I were, ankle deep in-eh? What's that?" Madame Foster asked.
"You're right, Grandma, you're totally right!" Frankie cried excitedly, throwing the towels aside and standing up. "I do, wait, I mean Mac needs, uh, hold on…"
Madame Foster gave her granddaughter a peculiar look. "Frankie, are you feeling alright?"
"Yes, wait…no, I mean…uh…I gotta give Mac a call!" Frankie sputtered as she reached into her pocket to grapple for her cell phone. Whipping it out, she got halfway though dialing Mac's home phone when suddenly…she just stopped completely in mid-dial.
Madame Foster actually backed away a bit, unnerved by her grandchild's sudden erratic behavior. "Frankie dear, is everything okay?"
Frankie desperately wanted nothing more in the world at that instant than to just make the call and talk to Mac. However some unseen force was keeping her from doing it. It was as if she already knew that if she called now, Mac wasn't going to pick up. In fact she didn't feel as if Mac was even home now. Frankie just stood there as this newfound sixth sense told her the same thing over and over; He's not there.
But that wasn't all it was telling her. The unnerving, almost maternal instinct revealed something else, something Frankie already knew deep down. Mac's in danger. He needs you. NOW.
"Grandma, what time is it?" she asked worriedly.
Madame Foster shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, I think it's a little after five."
"Five o'clock…Mac's been leaving around that time a lot….but I know it's not for home…but…" suddenly, it dawned on her.
"Grandma! Grandma!" she cried frantically, picking up a surprised Madame Foster and bringing her face to face. "I need your car keys, now!"
"Frankie, why do-"
"It's Mac, Grandma! I think Mac's in serious trouble!"
"But dear, what on earth…"
"I don't know, Grandma! I don't know what's going on, I don't know who it involves, I don't even know why it's happening! But I think I know where it is. I need to get there, and I need to get there, fast!"
"Oh goodness! Why didn't you say so? Here, take them! I have them-" the instant she took them from her sweater pocket Frankie snatched them and before the old woman could even register they were gone, the girl had already cleared three flights of stairs, her voice ringing throughout the house.
"JUST HOLD ON, PAL! I'M COMING FOR YA, MAC! JUST HOOOOOOOLLLLDDD OOOOOOOOONNNNNN!
Personally, I'm not sure if this chapter is as good as the others, but I'll let you guys decide what you think. Thanks for your support! Please read and review!