Thanks again, everyone! I'd like to thank Bordest Person Alive, luckyrocks73, cheeseisawesome, azuretears, Chipsie the sleek tabby cat, tervaco, and S-A. Thank you so much, guys!
Okay, now here we go again!
Disclaimer: I do not own Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends
"Do you want anything, dear? Some toast? A piece of fruit?" Madame Foster asked encouragingly. Frankie stared back dully with baggy eyes and just shook her head wordlessly as she took a small sip of orange juice.
It was breakfast time at Foster's. As usual, the dining room was abuzz with commotion as house residents chatted, horsed about with each other, or focused intently on gobbling down their morning meal. However, unlike most mornings, this breakfast had not been prepared as part of the daily routine of the resident caretaker. Rather than take any chances with her still-frazzled granddaughter, Madame Foster had awoken especially early to prepare everything herself. However, the fact that she had to wake up two hours early was the last thing on the old woman's mind as she struggled to get a response out of Frankie, who had just wearily stumbled in to breakfast only ten minutes before.
"Oh, c'mon!" Madame Foster coaxed warmly with a weak grin. "Look! I made pancakes, your favorite! Wouldn't you like just one bite of-"
"No thanks, Grandma." Frankie mumbled, fidgeting with her glass of juice. Her grandmother's smile flipped into a worried frown as she settled back in her chair.
"Frankie, please. You had a nasty shock last night; you need to keep up your strength. Now why don't you-"
The old woman suddenly went silent at the sound of the kitchen doors swinging open, followed by the sounds of an unmistakable dignified hop.
"Good morning, Madame, Miss Frances." Mr. Herriman addressed them politely.
Frankie didn't even make an effort to look up, and kept her dull gaze fixated on the table. Madame Foster however clasped her hands and eagerly gazed up at her imaginary friend.
"Well?" the old woman asked hopefully.
"I, um…well, I…I…" the old rabbit struggled to speak.
"Yes?" she asked again with an optimistic twinkle in her eye. Mr. Herriman paused for a moment, took a deep breath, then bowed his head solemnly as he declared,
"…I am a man of my word, Madame Foster. The meeting with the Brown Family shall go ahead this afternoon as scheduled."
With that he quickly turned around and hastily exited the dining hall, before his shocked creator even had a chance to reply.
Frankie didn't utter a word a word of protest. With a soft whimper, she quickly got up from her seat and clumsily grabbed a few empty plates, sending a few pieces of silverware clattering and spilling a large bowl of fruit in the process. Murmuring something under her breath about getting started with breakfast clean-up, she took her haphazard pile and hurriedly exited into the kitchen, while desperately trying to hold back the tears that welled up in her eyes.
Wilt sadly watched her dash off into the kitchen from his usual seat between Coco and Eduardo. With an unhappy moan, he slumped dejectedly into his chair, his head bowed in defeat.
It was no use to say anything. He knew when they had been beaten.
Frankie dropped her load next to the kitchen sink in a chaotic pile with a loud clattering and quickly rolled up her sleeves. At first glance, she appeared to be unusually eager to get to her morning chores.
Plug up the sink…turn on the hot water…that's it, that's good…you can do this, Frankie…grab the sponge…
With a badly trembling hand, she picked up one of the dirty plates and placed it under the running water. Yes, that was it. Drown her misery in her work, get it off her mind. If she could just focus on her chores, blot out the grief-
"F-Frankie?"
"EEEEK!" Frankie shrieked as she felt a tiny hand gently prod the back of her leg. Dropping the plate she held in her hand and letting it break on the counter with a terrific smashing clamor, she whirled about, her expression a mix of grief and panic that someone would see her in such a state.
"WHAT?" she screeched loudly with clenched fists and tightly shut eyes. At the sound of the gentle whimper however, her eyelids snapped open as she got a good look at her visitor.
The stack of plates and glasses Bloo carried wobbled furiously in the little creature's shaky grip, as the wreck of an imaginary friend shivered uncontrollably. With a hard gulp, he lifted up his pile to the girl like it was a bizarre peace offering of some sort.
"I-I-I thought maybe…t-that you wanted some-"
Bloo didn't get a chance to finish; Frankie had dropped to her knees and swept him into a tight hug, regardless of the fact that this caused him to drop his pile with an ear-splitting shatter. She wept unashamedly as she gripped Bloo tightly to her trembling body, while warm salty tears poured unchecked down her face. Almost immediately Bloo capitulated to his own overwhelming grief, bawling along with her in unison and returning her squeeze. The two clung to each other miserably, as if the heat from their bodies would warm each other's cold, broken hearts.
They were loosing everything. And there wasn't a thing that could be done about it.
"Now then, if you'll both step in my office." Mr. Herriman instructed in his prim and proper manner, holding the door open politely for the couple.
"Oh, thank you so much! You really shouldn't!" Mrs. Brown beamed happily as she and her husband strode into Mr. Herriman's office. "I think you've done more than enough for us already."
"Oh, nonsense!" Mr. Herriman guffawed, keeping up the polite and friendly banter. "At Foster's, it is our duty to assist such families as kind and decent as your own. Isn't that right, Master Wilt?" he nodded curtly in the direction of the lanky imaginary friend.
Wilt barely looked up as his head and shoulders sagged heavily in defeat. "Yeah, sure is." He mumbled softly, his reply barely above a whisper.
"Oooooh, there he is!" Mrs. Brown cooed in delight, rushing over and wrapping her arms around his knees in a quick hug. Wilt swiftly had to suppress the strong urge to recoil in disgust.
He didn't want to leave his home. He didn't want to leave his friends, or his family for that matter. He didn't want to be adopted. But after being Mr. Nice Guy all these years, voluntarily upholding Foster's concept of the ideal imaginary friend…did he really have a choice? He gave a hard swallow and quickly blinked back what felt like a tear welling up in his eye. No sense in crying about it. He might as well face the facts.
"Now then, if you two would just seat yourselves here, we'll attend to business in just a moment." Mr. Herriman nodded politely before cupping his hands around his mouth. "Miss Frances! Miss Frances! Have you-"
"All set." Came the somber reply from the hallway. Frankie slowly trudged in, stumbling along in the manner of an injured soldier limping across a battlefield. Head bowed, shoulders sagging, the miserable girl plodded in at an arduously slow rate, with Wilt's file clutched tightly in her hands.
"Here you go, Mr. H." she mumbled sadly, unceremoniously dropping it in front of the rabbit and taking her customary place at his side. She kept her gaze focused on the floor rather than the two very prospective parents, the ones who were very much intent on taking "her" imaginary friend away. However, Frankie did look up for a brief moment to glance at Wilt, who stole an equally pathetically sad glance in her direction. The two forlorn figures' eyes met for a brief moment before they both looked away, resigned to their fates. They already were powerless enough as it was, no need to drag it out and make things any worse than-
"My deepest apologies, but I do believe that there's been quite a misunderstanding." Mr. Herriman said rather bluntly, arms folded neatly across his desk. Frankie and Wilt's heads shot up in shock as the Browns gave Mr. Herriman looks of complete bewilderment.
"Wait, what?" a confused Mr. Brown asked, scratching his head in puzzlement.
"Um, I'm not sure that I quite understand what-" his wife tried to say before Mr. Herriman quickly cut her off with a wave of his hand.
"Please! Please! There's absolutely no need. Let me assure you, there has been no trouble caused on your part. Believe me, the blame rests entirely with myself." He proclaimed quite firmly, before letting his hand fall into his lap and out of sight.
"But we don't understand-"
"My most sincere apologies, but I'm afraid Master Wilt can not be adopted into your care." Mr. Herriman put rather bluntly.
The prospective parents' faces fell.
Wilt's jaw dropped in shock.
And Frankie's eyes looked like they were going to bulge completely out of her sockets.
"Once again, the blame is all mine." Mr. Herriman quickly went on in his usual proper, businesslike tone. "This is all by no means any fault of yours. I wish I could say otherwise, but it seems we have all been the victims of a simple piece of misfiled paperwork."
"Wait, paperwork?" a disappointed Mrs. Brown inquired with a confused frown. Mr. Herriman chuckled nervously before he went on.
"Ha ha, um, yes. Yes indeed. And to think I pride myself on my perfect filing system, or at least what I thought was perfect. Strangest thing really, it happened only a little less than an hour ago before you two arrived just now. I was sorting through a pile of paperwork, some rather routine busywork, when I happened to come across Master Wilt's already filled-out and signed adoption form." He said, putting a rather odd emphasis on the word "signed."
"What? How on earth-" Mr. Brown tried to ask before Mr. Herriman continued on.
"Yes, wouldn't you believe it? You see, yesterday was a rather unusually busy day here at Foster's, an utter plethora of adoptions kept us busy around the clock…"
A very stunned Frankie shot her employer a completely baffled look. She knew very well that Wilt's case was the only thing close to an adoption that happened yesterday. What was going on?
It was at this point she realized that Mr. Herriman, usually the model of perfection and poise, had certainly started to tremble a bit in unmistakable anxiety. Not much, but noticeable enough for her at least to spot as she stood next to him.
"…and it seems that we had so many families coming in and out, adopting so many friends, well to be quite truthful at the end the whole process simply became a blur. So weary was I, in fact, that by the time you two showed up at our doorstep and chose the resident of your desire…" Mr. Herriman cleared his throat nervously and paused a few moments to regain his composure. "…that I was too tired to realize that you had in fact picked an already-adopted friend."
"Already-adopted?" a very flustered Mrs. Brown cried indignantly. "But we…but how…"
"Again, my deepest regrets for the terrible misunderstanding that has taken place here." Mr. Herriman continued with a weak grin. "I myself was quite horrified upon finding Master Wilt's already signed adoption form shortly ago."
There he goes again! Frankie thought, raising an eyebrow at his insistent and peculiar emphasis on that word. What on earth…
"However, shortly after that unpleasant discovery, my old memory finally caught up with me, and at this point I now clearly recall the events of yesterday. A small girl did in fact adopt Master Wilt, quite early yesterday morning as I remember. However, as I do recall, her timing in doing so was quite unfortunate, as right when the paperwork was signed, her father received a most awful phone call on his cellular phone, informing him that the girl's grandmother had just been rushed to the hospital with some nasty affliction. Terrible business really." He said, shaking his head sadly. "And so because of that, they had to leave rather abruptly, so much that they weren't even able to take Master Wilt along with them. However, before they did leave, we promised them that we would of course keep Master Wilt on hold for her, and so we did when we filed away the already completed and signed adoption form."
It was at that point that Frankie finally noticed the peculiar feeling of something being shoved rather forcibly against her unmoving hand. Wordlessly, she let her eyes travel downwards until much to her surprise, she found that it was Mr. Herriman acting as her culprit, and with one hand hidden securely by the desk he incessantly prodded a piece of paper against her limp palm. How long he had been doing that for, she had no idea, but it was clear by the way his prim manner was deteriorating by the second, he was clearly close to breaking point.
"And s-so, shortly afterwards, we just became so swamped with adoptions, Master Wilt being the p-particularly compassionate fellow t-t-that he is, began to assist Miss Frances and I with the s-sudden overwhelming amount of work to be done, and by the end of the d-d-day, we…uh, well we were just so weary by that point, um…not even Master Wilt himself possessed the s-stamina nor the awareness to correct our mistake." He babbled, gritting his teeth into a horrifyingly forced disarming smile as he continued to force the paper into Frankie's hand. Finally, while still keeping up with the polite façade, he delivered a sharp, unseen kick to the girl's shin.
Frankie swiftly bit down hard on her lip to suppress a yelp of pain, and finally she swiftly grabbed the paper from his gloved hand, which Mr. Herriman swiftly withdrew and placed back on his desk. At this, he was quickly able to regain a considerable amount of composure.
"So you see, what we have here is a simple mix-up, entirely of my own doing. Now if I could, I'd…"
As he went on calmly, as if no mysterious transaction had just taken place out of reach of the couple's gazes, Frankie finally stole a quick look at the piece of paper in her hands.
What on earth is this that? She wondered bewilderedly. It looks like…wait, no, it's not…
She unfurled the paper, only to quickly stifle a gasp of shock. It was a Foster's adoption form, filled out quite neatly in Mr. Herriman's unmistakable flowing script, filled out for Wilt, or at least that's what the name written on the blank line said. But where was the adopter's signature?
"Sorry, but I'm still not quite sure we believe this whole story." Mr. Brown complained irritably.
"Yes, if Wilt really was adopted already, then could we at least see-"
"The adoption form? Yes, of course!" Mr. Herriman quickly interrupted her. "Yes indeed, no problem at all! Why, it's right here, in my desk, right as we speak! Miss Frances, will you please get the signed adoption form for me?" he asked her politely, without even looking at her.
Frankie gave him a blank stare. "Uh…Wilt's adoption form?"
"Ah ha ha, why yes, of course!" Mr. Herriman laughed nervously. "Such a kidder, she is! A real delight to have around the house!" he babbled, noticing the suspicious looks on the couple's faces. "Now Miss Frances, will you please stop kidding around, reach into the bottom drawer of my desk, and fetch Master Wilt's completed adoption form?" he ordered through tightly gritted teeth.
Frankie continued to stare at him stupidly until finally it all clicked inside her brain. Without thinking twice, the girl ducked behind the desk and began to fish about furiously in her sweater pockets.
"C'mon, c'mon." she whispered frantically to herself. "I know I…yesss!" she cheered softly in celebration as she withdrew a pen. Hastily she popped of the cap and with a few clumsy movement of her hand, scribbled a rough signature unto the adoption form, and popped up again, waving it triumphantly into the air.
"Got it right here!" she cried, hurriedly slapping it down on the desk. Immediately Mr. Herriman breathed a sigh of utter relief as he took it in his hands and inspected it briefly.
"Yes…yes, of course, here it is! All filled out, as you can plainly see." He said happily, showing it off for the perplexed husband and wife to see.
"Oh." Mrs. Brown muttered disappointedly.
"Wait, what's the child's name?" her husband inquired, squinting his eyes so as to make out the badly scrawled signature. It looks like Fran-"
"Frannie!" Mr. Herriman interrupted none-too-politely. "Um, I mean, Frannie. Yes, that's it! Frannie…"
"Finster." Frankie blurted out. Mr. Herriman nodded furiously.
"Yes, yes I remember! Frannie Finster, of course! Such a sweet little girl, we do hope the best for her poor grandmother."
Mr. Brown finally relented and slumped dejectedly in his chair. "Well, if you say so…"
"Oh, not to worry!" Mr. Herriman cried, leaping to his feet so abruptly that a very startled Frankie leapt back a few feet. "Although Master Wilt is out of your reach, you have no need to fear. I give you my word that you shall not leave friendless today! Why, we have an over abundance of equally fine friends here in residence, plenty in which I'm sure you'll be able to find the one that suits your child the best! In fact, I'm sure the Master Wilt will still be more than happy to assist you in your search for the perfect companion for your son! Isn't that right, Master Wilt?" he asked anxiously.
Wilt, who had been standing silently in dumb shock the entire time, slowly jerked his head in the direction of the disappointed couple. After a considerable amount of effort, he finally managed to twist his face into a weak but nevertheless genuine smile.
"Uh, yeah." He gasped. "Um, okay. No problem.
"Farewell!
"Goodbye!"
"See ya!"
The three-eyed, green-striped, duck-like imaginary friend, aptly named Mr. Quackers, flapped his wings ecstatically as he poked his head out of the Brown's minivan window.
"Bye guys! Thanks for everything!" he quacked excitedly at Frankie, Wilt, and Mr. Herriman as the car took off down the road into the fading sunset.
"And the very best of luck to you in your new home!" Mr. Herriman called as the three continued to wave furiously until the vehicle had disappeared from view.
After she ceased her waving, Frankie looked incredulously at the slightly crumpled adoption form she had been carrying in her jacket pocket since earlier, and now gripped tightly in her hand. Wordlessly, she held it up to her eyes and inspected it intently for a few moments, just to make sure it wasn't too good to be true.
"There'll be no need for that Miss Frances," Mr. Herriman reprimanded her lightly. "I can assure you that it is not a counterfeit document."
Both he and Wilt stopped their waving and watched Frankie silently for a few moments. After staring hard at Wilt's name on the document, plus her own scrawled signature, the girl slowly lowered it from her face and stared blankly into Mr. Herriman's eyes.
"I…" she struggled furiously to get the words out, but the full realization of what had just happened in the past hour left her too stunned for words.
"Deep breaths, Miss Frances. Deep breaths should do the trick." Mr. Herriman advised her gently. Frankie quickly followed the advice, taking a few large gulps of air before finally gaining enough composure to speak.
"…Why?" she asked softly as she hugged the adoption form close to herself.
Mr. Herriman coughed nervously before replying. "Well, you see…um…I just thought it'd be necessary…to have the, uh...extra help around the house with your daily chores because…"
He now began to rock back and forth in a fidgety manner on his large rabbit feet as he gave her a weak smile. "…Well, you are going to be watching over an eight-year-old child at the same time."
If he had wished to add anything to that, he never got the chance. The moment he finished his last sentence, Frankie immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed him in a crushing bear hug. Mr. Herriman gasped for air while her hold grew tighter by the second.
"You mean I-I can actually …you're letting me adopt …" the absolutely elated girl sobbed happily as her tears began to soak his silvery-gray fur.
"I-" he tried to gasp in response.
"You care...y-you really do care. I don't…I don't know what else to say…oh God…h-how…how can I ever thank-"
"A breath of air would be nice." Mr. Herriman managed to wheeze as she gripped him like a vice. Immediately, Frankie let go and began to jump about madly in an impromptu victory dance.
"I have an imaginary friend, I have an imaginary friend, I have an imaginary friend…" she chanted endlessly to herself over and over in a singsong manner as she leapt about happily like a ballet dancer, until finally ceasing her flamboyant display with a small twirl in front of Wilt.
"Wheeeeee!" Frankie squealed joyously as she grabbed hold of Wilt's arm. "Did you hear that Wilt? It's official! It's official! You're my imaginary friend now! You get to stay here at Foster's! We don't have to worry about you ever getting adopted, ever again! Did you hear that? Wilt? Wilt…"
Frankie quickly toned down her excitement as the towering imaginary friend failed to respond to her unbridled ecstasy. After staring silently into the distance for a few moments, the clearly stunned creature finally lowered his head to look into Frankie's concerned stare.
"Wilt? You okay with all of this?" she asked softly.
Frankie squeaked in surprise as he suddenly bent over and grabbed her by the sweater, lowing his face until their eyes were only inches apart.
"Is this…okay? Is this okay?" he murmured incredulously before his mouth contorted into a fierce grimace, much to her shock. "No, Frankie! This is not okay! This isn't okay at all! Of all the ways to describe this, "okay" is not one of them!" he bellowed.
With a whimper, Frankie began to quiver violently in his grip. However, just when it seemed like she was about to faint in fright, he suddenly exposed it all as a well-timed joke as his frown suddenly transformed itself into the biggest smile the girl had ever seen in her life.
"This isn't okay…this is GREAT!" he whooped excitedly. With a squeal Frankie found herself lifted at least six feet off the ground and enveloped in a warm hug, which she happily returned in full as the two dissolved into laughter, both near hysterical with joy.
Mr. Herriman, still nursing a bruised neck, couldn't help but chuckle at the heartwarming sight before him. "Well…as soon as you two are through celebrating, I…I do believe that there's something I must tell you, Miss Frances. Not too far from here, there's a group of nuns who run a-"
"You don't need to tell me I already know where Mac is don't ask why I found it by accident c'mon Wilt let's go go go!" Frankie gasped in one breath. Not wasting a single moment, she leapt from Wilt's arm, and forcibly dragged the gangly imaginary friend along with her to the house, all the while screaming at the top of her lungs,
"BLOO! BLOO! BLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
As they swiftly vanished from sight, Mr. Herriman allowed himself another soft chortle, dusted himself off, and he tucked his hands neatly around his back while starting the walk back up to the house.
"I knew you'd do the right thing." A mysterious voice suddenly cackled as soon as he entered the front gate. Immediately the old rabbit jerked in surprise and quickly whirled about with a look of panic.
"What? Who said that? I-oh it's you." He sighed wearily. Madame Foster chortled as she hobbled out from behind the tall metal gatepost.
"Funny Bunny, you big scaredy-cat." She giggled like a schoolgirl as she wrapped her arms about his waist in a warm hug. Fortunately for Mr. Herriman, his silvery gray fur managed to hide most of his blush.
"Um, Madame…how did you…uh…h-how long were you…" he tried to in his unmistakable embarrassment.
Madame Foster smiled as she looked up at him. "Let's just say being a person of my stature has its advantages now and then." She tittered with a crafty wink.
"Madame, please!" Mr. Herriman blurted out, quite flustered that his own creator caught him so out of character. He hastily tried to explain himself as she continued to just grin smugly "It's not what you think! Please! It merely seemed to be the logical course of action to allow-"
They were suddenly interrupted by the front doors of the old Victorian mansion bursting open, as three blurs, two red and one blue, zipped across the lawn and onto the Foster's bus. The instant the bus doors closed, the motor was started and with a screech of tires the bulky vehicle tore out of the driveway.
"ByeGrandmabyeMr.HerrimanseeyouguyslatergonnagetMacbebacksoon!" Frankie babbled ecstatically, and with that she stepped on the gas and the bus took off down the road, going at least twenty miles above the speed limit.
"Oh dear..." Mr. Herriman groaned wearily and slapped his forehead. Madame Foster however only laughed as she took him by the hand and began to lead him inside.
"C'mon, Mr. Grumbles. Let's go see if we can prepare a little something special for dinner tonight in celebration."
"With an extra place set at the table, of course." Her imaginary friend added with a bit of a wan smile.
"You betcha." The old woman chuckled. "You know, to be honest, I always wanted a grandson…"
"Wheeeeeeeee!" Bloo squealed excitedly as he recklessly bounced about the bus seats, clearly a far cry from the hollow shell of a blob he formally was as he babbled uncontrollably in joy.
"Mac! Mac! Gonna be with Mac again! Oh jeez we're gonna see Mac we're really gonna see him he's my super best friend in the whole entire world oh man I really don't believe it we're gonna be best buds again and we're gonna play tag and climb trees and play video games and stay up late and watch scary movies and eat candy and…" the little imaginary friend jabbered incessantly in his unbridled elation.
Frankie, who normally would be screaming angrily at him to knock it off with such behavior, now only laughed gleefully as she glanced up into the rear view mirror.
"Whoa, easy there!" she giggled. "C'mon, we're not even there yet!"
"Yeah Bloo, sit down and try and relax." Wilt chuckled.
Bloo shook his head furiously as he hopped about like a giant azure rubber ball. "Can't sit! Too excited! Can't sit! Gonna see Mac again! Can't sit! Gonna be best friends again! Can't sit! Can't sit!" the hyperactive little creature yelled ecstatically as he continued to leap about.
Despite the incredible ruckus he was causing, Frankie didn't have it in her to scold him even if it was necessary; she had to be honest she was a bit worried that he incredible stroke of luck would take a sudden turn for the worse. Even while driving, the young woman fidgeted about in her seat and chewed her lip anxiously. Wilt, seated directly in the behind her, noticed her nervous behavior and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"Take it easy." He laughed as he flashed her a smile. "Don't worry, he's gonna be fine."
Frankie turned her head briefly to flash a weak grin. "I know, but I-"
"Less talking more driving!" Bloo yelled as he danced about impatiently. "Gotta get Mac! Gotta get Mac! Step on it, Frankie!"
She laughed as she turned the wheel. "Hold on, hold on a sec! We're just about…"
Frankie abruptly stopped in mid-sentence as something caught her eye.
"…There." She finished none-too-cheerfully as she caught sight of something a bit unsettling.
"Frankie, what's wrong?" Wilt asked concernedly as he peered out the window alongside her.
"Dunno." She replied honestly as she stepped on the brake to put the bus in park. Something didn't seem right. Even now, in the dim twilight, Frankie could see the something was badly amiss at St. Joseph's Orphanage the way the barely visible silhouetted figures rushed about in a panic.
"Frankie?" Bloo asked nervously as she turned off the ignition. "What's going on?"
"Oh jeez!" Frankie cried as she opened the doors and sprinted off the bus, Wilt and Bloo in close pursuit.
"Hey, what happened?" she cried as a frantic looking group of nuns rushed about the premises. "Excuse me? Sister? Hello, could you-"
The nuns, however, seemed oblivious to the girl's cries. Instead, they scrambled about in a chaotic mass, calling to one another, rushing in and out of the orphanage, while one particularly old stocky one standing on the doorsteps bellowed out orders in a gruff baritone.
"Sister Agnes, get inside! Help Sister Mary keep an eye on the other children!"
"Yes, Mother Angela!" one black robed woman nodded quickly to her superior as she sprinted off inside.
"Sister Patricia! Take two others and scan around the building! Make sure he's not hiding out back!"
"Shall I send some into the park next door, just in case?"
"Check around here for the child, first!"
"Of course, Mother Angela!"
"Sister Joan-"
"WHAT'S GOING ON?" Frankie shrieked impatiently. The stocky Mother Superior however only frowned irritably at the newcomer as she continued to direct the sisters in a military fashion.
"Child, please! I have no time! Sister Catherine! Go…"
Although Frankie suspected that it was probably a sin of some sort, with an angry growl she bounded up the stone stairs of the orphanage and roughly grabbed the nun by the robe, screaming furiously in a none-too-Christian-like manner.
"WILL YOU PLEASE TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED?" the girl screeched.
Without even blinking, the already very stressed Mother Angela suddenly swatted the frantic girl away with a quick cuff to her head, the blow actually sending Frankie reeling backwards down a few steps until she fell into Wilt's hold.
For an old woman who had devoted her life to God, Frankie had not been expecting her to possess the strength of a heavyweight boxer. Without a second glance back at the dazed redhead, Mother Angela continued to bellow out orders like a drill sergeant.
"Organize search parties in groups of three!"
"Yes, Mother Angela!"
"Frankie, are you okay?" Wilt asked concernedly as he lifted her gently back onto stable footing.
"I-"
"I can't believe he was able to make it over the fence like that!" one sister whispered to another as they rushed by. Frankie immediately went silent as she listened intently. Well, since no one was going to flat out tell her…
"Oh, the poor boy!" another bemoaned as she scrambled off. Frankie could feel a certain dark feeling of despair growing in her stomach.
Boy? She thought worriedly. No, can't be! There's plenty of kids here, Mac's probably inside with-
"Why didn't we keep a better watch on him? The child lost his family only a few weeks ago!" another one muttered heartbreakingly.
The color drained from Frankie's face. Just a coincidence, Frankie. Mac's all right, he's gonna be-
"He was always mumbling about wanting to go home, always whining about wanting to be with some other family."
"I knew we should've paid special attention to that one! Always talking about some "sister," when all he had was a mother and brother." two nuns whispered in harried tones as they scrambled by.
Wilt winced painfully as he felt Frankie draw a sharp intake of breath and clamp down tightly onto his arm.
Sister? "Only" a mother and brother? Oh God, please no! Not now, not-
As the girl's mind became a chaotic swirl of panic and terror, black-robed women still managed to race about around her and the two imaginary friends, speaking to one another worriedly as they attended to the apparent emergency that had just taken place.
"…I didn't think he'd be able to do it! No child's been able to scale the fence before!"
"Poor boy, poor boy! We have to find him! If only he climbed it a little slower…"
"…torn to pieces if we don't…"
"…we should've trained it better! It thinks every intruder that comes at night is a burglar…"
"…it definitely spotted him on the other side, now doubt about it! Why else wouldn't he be here…"
All the while, Frankie continued to hold onto Wilt tightly, utterly unable to do a thing except frantically reassure herself that the nuns were not speaking who she thought they were speaking about.
"No." she whispered softly, half to Wilt and half to herself. "It can't be…no, it just can't…"
All her meager hopes were rapidly destroyed however as one particularly frenetic nun let loose a panicked wail.
"We have to find the boy before Rex does first! When he first spotted him, the child was on the other side of the fence! Mac was already on the other side!"