Chapter 8:

"Wirt? Wirt? Wirt! Get up, kid!" Wirt shot up in bed, startily awoken by his stepfather pounding his fist on the door. He looked down at Greg, who miraculously was sleeping through the noise.

"Ugh, forget it. Me and your mother are leaving for work. Get up at noon, for all that I care, just remember that school starts in fifteen minutes. Sara got here early, I'll tell her to come up."

Wirt, jumped out of bed and stood, panting, in the middle of his room, trying to figure out what to do. Shit, school, Wirt frantically thought, trying to wrap his head around his situation. It was a Monday morning. What am I going to do with Greg? I got to get dressed, for - "Sara," he said aloud, as he heard her walk up the stairs and into his doorway.

She turned and faced Wirt, who was awkwardly fiddling with his bed sheets, trying to make his bed. Sara was ready for the annual october cold-snap that faced ahead, wearing a fluffy blue bomber jacket, with a NASA logo on the arm sleeve. Her dark-blue beanie perfectly matched her jeans; to say the least, she was ready to get going. Wirt was anything but. He blushed due to his state of clothing: Plaid red pajama pants and a plain blue t-shirt. It was only then when she noticed his thin and lengthy physique, one look at his bony arms and you could tell that he didn't exercise. Sara took one look at his hair, which was sticking out in all directions, and giggled.

"Ah, Sara, I-I'm so sorry-"

"Dude, don't worry! Plus," she said, eyeing Greg, "that should be the least of your problems."

"Uh, I know!" He said, quickly throwing on clothes and matting down his hair. "What are we going to do?"

Greg shot up. "I think I have a plan." Both Sara and Wirt put their hand on their chest, startled.

"Jeez, Greg, you gotta stop scaring us like that," Sara said, breathing heavily.

Greg tumbled out of bed and into his room, where he put on a fresh pair of green overalls and a shirt. Sara and Wirt were left awestruck, in a way, remembering that Greg's appearance wasn't a dream.

He got back into his brothers room and sat on the bed. "You guys can go to school, no biggie."

"Oh perfect," Wirt snarled sarcastically, "That just solves the whole 'young child left alone in the house' problem."

"Wirt, give him a bre-"

"No biggie!" Greg interrupted. "I can just go by the creek and play. Nobody knows about it, anyways." He said, swingin his feet. Wirt and Sara exchanged nervous looks, but after all they've been through, trusted Greg more than anything.

"O-o-ok," Wirt stutterd. He walked up to Greg and took him by the shoulders. Greg giggled. "This is extremely serious, Greg, so listen to me. You cannot be seen by anyone, you hear me? Anyone."

"Okie dokie artichokie!"

"And-" Wirt started, "I love you. Just be safe."

Greg's eyes widened, and he jumped into his brothers arms. "I love you too, o-brother-o-mine!"

Sara looked at her watch. "Guys, we really have to go. Greg, we can give you a ride to the wall, and you know where to go."

They all rushed down the stairs and out of the house, locked the door and ran into the garage, where Sara had parked her bike. She got on her bike and Wirt on his, having Greg sitting in front of him. He opened his jacket and covered littled Greg up, as to hide his face.

"Let's go," he said.

They pedaled across town, through streets covered with the orange and brown leaves. Greg stuck his head out and felt the cold breeze hit his face. Wirt shivered, but somehow felt warm next to his brother. He smiled.

They arrived at the graveyard and watched little Greg make his way up and down the garden wall. Wirt sighed.

"Hey," Sara said, pulling him into a hug. "We have nothing to worry about. I know for a fact that Greg will be fine." Wirt felt so safe, so warm in Sara's arms. He let out a sigh of relief, and they just stood there, hugging, for a few minutes. They reluctantly pulled away, Wirt with tears rolling down his cheeks. She wiped them away.

"Don't worry, Wirt. Everything's going to be just fine."

Wirt gave a slight smile, before they checked their watches and hopped back on their bikes, making their way to school.

It was a shock to neither of them that they were late to first period, which just so happened to be band. Both of them knew what their friend would have to say about that.

"Y-y-you g-guys are n-nearly twenty m-m-minutes late!" Jason hissed, looking at his watch, and back at them with a frown. "S-stuff like t-that will g-g-go on your p-permanent record!"

"Only if you have three unexcused tardies in the quarter, or twelve overall," Sara retaliated. Jason shrugged and got back to his warm-ups, which included a variety of scales and arpeggios.

Sara played the trumpet, and Jason, like Wirt, played clarinet, but was not nearly as advanced as Wirt. It wasn't that Jason tried, and boy did he try, but Wirt just had better intonation, and overall a natural gift for music.

Wirt was a very complex human being, and had always been very serious and more mature. What happened to his brother just seemed to be the icing on the cake, making Wirt lose little effort he had for making eye-contact and keeping his head up.

The rest of the school day went painfully slow, for both Sara and Wirt. They were nearly biting pulling their hair out by last period. All they could think of was Greg; how he was, and if he had left the spot they told him to stay, or if he was seen.

As soon as that last bell chimed, Wirt nearly ran out of class to meet Sara at her locker.

As he was racing down the hallway, he made eye contact with Sara, who was waiting at the end of the crowded hall, and waved. But as soon as Wirt did that, as if one que, he heard his name.

"Wirt? Wirt, can you step inside my class, for a sec?" It was Mr. Johnson, the band director, who was practically yelling over the kids voices coming from the hall.

Wirt, with a concerned and annoyed face, put up his index finger towards Sara to note that he'd be a minute, and walked in. It was the last place he'd want to be, with Greg on his mind.

"Hey, buddy, take a seat. Anywhere's fine." Wirt already hated where this conversation was going.

Wirt trudged over to a seat and plopped down. Mr. Johnson pulled up a chair next to him.

"So, I've heard that you have been going through a kind of rough time right now," he started. Wirt put his face in his palm. Ugh, not this. Anything but this, he thought.

"I mean, I'm no therapist, but by the way you are kind of isolating yourself, I feel that something's up. You haven't smiled in class in a long time, like I remember from last year." Last year, Wirt thought. God, last year was so different. He suddenly felt like crying.

"Your grades aren't looking too great, either," Mr. Johnson sighed. "What's up, Wirt? Something must be going on. You can always tell me, I can help."

Wirt stood up, visibly teary-eyed. His face was flushed with anger.

"No, you can't. You can't help!" He yelled, grabbing his bookbag. Before he thought twice, he raced out of the classroom and down the hallway to Sara.

"Hey, Wirt, what happ-"

"Nothing happened!" He said, walking past her, leaving her to catch up. "Let's just get Greg, ok?"

Sara, obviously confused and a little angry to be spoken to like that, said nothing, and just put her head down as they raced through the school and out to their bikes, where they got on and rode fast to the creek.