Disclaimer: I own none of the characters within.

Author's Notes: I love all of my reviewers. That's really all I have to say. Thank you for sticking with this story for so long. This isn't a goodbye; the story's not over yet! This is just a simple thanks for your loyalty and your encouragement.

This chapter is from Freddy's POV.

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I'm not stupid.

Everyone thinks I'm stupid, but I'm not stupid.

Yeah, I know I'm not smart. But that doesn't mean I'm stupid! Everyone just thinks I'm stupid. It's not that simple, though. There's a huge difference between being smart and being, you know, street smart. I'm street smart, I think. I can take care of myself, that's for sure.

And I'm smart enough to know that Pietro's not coming back.

They think I'm stupid, so they keep telling me it's gonna be okay. Their talking is what's stupid. If I can figure it out, then everyone must know. Pietro's gonna die. He could be dead already and we just don't know yet, which would kind of suck. But he's not coming back.

Just because I'm not smart doesn't mean I can't understand.

I know what death is. I know what it means. It means I'll never see him again, ever. I'll never talk to him again. There might not even be a body for us to bury, and I always figured, you know, having a body was a good thing. It's closes things. It gives closure. That's the word, closure. Don't think I'm stupid because I couldn't think of the word right away. Lots of smart people get their words mixed up.

But even though I'm not stupid, I still can't get my head around this idea of not having Pietro around anymore. He's always been around, and I figured he always would be. Like Lance and Todd. But now I'm not so sure.

If Pietro dies, who's next? Will it be Todd? I really hope not. Todd's my friend. But so is Lance. I don't want them to die. I don't want Pietro to die, either, but it's too late for me to do anything about that. So I've got to hold on to the ones I've got.

I've seen a lot of things that most people don't ever get to see. Since everyone thinks I'm stupid, they act like I'm not even in the room sometimes. That means I get to see stuff. Important stuff. Like Lance crying at the kitchen table when Pietro ran away. Or Todd ripping up a picture of Pietro and screaming, "you stupid bastard!" Everyone was really mad when Pietro left.

I was really mad, too. I took Pietro's favorite CDs and broke them in my hands. There was one that I couldn't rip up, though, because I had seen Pietro crying when he listened to it and I knew it had to be really important. I kept that CD in my room. It's called Moulin Rouge! I think it's a movie. If it made Pietro cry, and he never cries, it must be really important.

I wish people cried more. I'm not very good at figuring out what people are thinking unless it's really obvious. Like when people are laughing or crying. Even though people laugh a lot, they don't cry enough. I can never tell when people are sad. Usually I confuse it with mad, because when people want to cry they get really angry and yell at me. Later they're crying, though, so I know that's what they wanted to do all along.

If they cried, I would have known. I could have said nice things to them. Like Pietro. And Lance. And Todd. If they would have just cried, I could have tried to help them. But I thought they were mad at me so I left them alone.

Now it's too late.

That makes me angry! It's not fair! I should get to go back, and they should have little signs over their heads that say: "I am sad." and "I am angry." and "I am lonely." I can't be expected to read their minds! If they had signs like that over their heads, I might be able to do something instead of walking off and eating!

I like to eat. It's calm. It makes me calm. I like the taste of food, and the feel of food. And I'm hungry all the time. Before I knew I was a mutant, I thought all of my eating is what made me so big. I was wrong. I'm glad. I would hate to have to stop eating all the time. It's nice.

Pietro brought me Icees at three in the morning. He was nice. I miss him already, that's why I'm talking like he's already dead. He was nice. But he's not nice anymore. He's gone. I can't wait around for him to come back, it'll just make me sad and maybe even kill me, too.

I waited and waited for my dad to come back, but he never did. The waiting almost killed me. Only, he didn't not come back because he was dead. He didn't come back because he didn't want to be with us anymore. Oh well. He might as well be dead, I guess. If I think that he's dead, it doesn't hurt.

Nothing can hurt me. I'm the Blob. I'm unhurtable. I like it that way.

But sometimes, things can hurt me. I don't like that. I didn't like getting angry when Pietro left. And I don't like feeling sad that he's leaving again.

Does anyone else think that's really unfair? That we got him back and now they're taking him away again? That sucks! It makes me angry! I'm angry and sad at the same time. It's not a good place to be. It gives me a stomachache.

Because I think it might be my fault.

I'm good at keeping secrets. And if someone asks you to keep something secret, you have to do it, right? If you promise someone not to tell, you have to keep your promise. I was just keeping my promise. I didn't know that something bad could happen. Pietro said it would all be okay, as long as I didn't tell anyone.

It was a week ago.

I was in my room, which is right next to Pietro's, and I was thinking about how big the sky is and wondering why it never falls down on our heads. I think about stuff like that sometimes. Sometimes I think about the sky. Sometimes I think about the ocean, and I wonder why it never just flows up over the beaches and covers the whole world. Or if I think about the world, which is round, I wonder why we don't all just slip off the sides and fall into space. See, I know that the world is round. I'm not stupid.

And I was sitting in my room and I heard the phone ringing. Lance wasn't home, and he's always the one who answers the phone because he's in charge. But since he wasn't home, and no one else was home except for me, there was no one to answer the phone. And my mom always taught me to answer the phone and be very polite and not just let it ring and I even know how to take messages. Well, I used to take messages. I can't really hold a pen any more, my hands are too big. But anyway.

I answered the phone and said, "Hello?"

And Pietro's voice said, "Freddy, thank god, I was hoping you would answer."

He sounded terrible. And he told me that I needed to come and get him. I asked him why and he wouldn't answer. He told me to go out of the house, turn left and walk for a while, and then turn right on the dirt road that leads out into the empty fields where he likes to go running. I figured that's what he was doing, running, and I wondered why he wanted me to come get him. I asked him why and he wouldn't answer. So I set out walking.

It was cold out. I was wearing a jacket that Lance bought for me at a garage sale because it was big enough to fit me. You know that Lance bought that jacket with his own money? If I ever had a big brother, I would want him to be just like Lance. The road was long and empty. I don't know where that road leads. I only walked it that one time, and I hated it. It was really scary, but I'll never tell anyone that I was scared because I don't get scared. I'm the Blob. I'm unhurtable and unscareable.

I saw Pietro. He was sitting on the side of the road all flopped out like a rag doll, leaning back on his hands with his head tipped back to look at the sky. I wondered if he was wondering about the sky, like I do sometimes. He heard me coming and looked up and smiled, and I've never seen anyone smile like that. It was a smile that seemed to say, "I am more glad to see you than I would be to see anyone else in the whole world."

"Pietro," I said. "What are you doing?"

And he said, "It's a long story, Freddy boy." (He calls me Freddy boy and I don't mind because he likes giving people nicknames.) He said, "I was out running, but something just sort of, uh, gave out. I'm not sure what happened, but I figure I just haven't been getting enough sleep, you know?"

He smiled, and I saw that there was blood on his lips, like from a nosebleed. I didn't say anything about it. He seemed kind of scared, but I wasn't sure. I just asked what he wanted me to do.

"Well, the thing is, Freddy boy," (when he calls me Freddy boy twice in a row then there must be something wrong) "I don't think I can walk."

So that's why he was sitting on the side of the road like a rag doll. He looked really, really, really tired, like it was taking all of his strength to lift his head and look at me. Then he held out one hand and said, "Think I could get a lift?"

And I said, "No problem, Pietro."

So I bent down and I picked him up in my arms. Pietro is very small and light, so it wasn't hard at all. And as I started walking home, he sort of settled in and leaned against me and sighed. I think he was embarrassed, but he was also really grateful. It really was no problem, though. I didn't mind. When people ask me for help, I like to give it. It makes me feel useful. I can be changing a flat tire or carrying an exhausted friend home; it doesn't matter. As long as I'm helping.

He talked the whole way home, even though he was really tired, like he didn't want there to be any quiet. He was making jokes about the whole thing, about how he needed to get more sleep, stuff like that.

And then he said, "Hey, uh, Freddy? Don't tell anyone about this, okay?"

"Why not?" I said.

"I just don't want them to, you know, freak out. You know, Wanda'll yell at me for not getting any sleep, and Lance'll be mad because... Well, I don't know. But they'll get mad, even though it's no big deal. I'm really fine, I just need to get more sleep."

"Okay."

"You promise to keep it a secret?"

And I promised. That's one of the things I've done that makes me worry that I might really be stupid. I promised not to tell anyone that Pietro was in trouble. That is so stupid.

But how could I have known? I didn't know. Pietro was acting like he was fine. And it makes me so mad, because everything could have been different if only he had a little sign over his head that said, "I need help." Because he did need help, and maybe if I had said something a week ago, it wouldn't be too late.

But now it is too late. I know some things. I know that when someone gets sicker and sicker for a whole week, then it's really bad. I know that if you can catch a sickness right at the beginning then you might have a chance at stopping it, but if it goes on too long without any help, then you can't do anything about it.

I wish I could go back in time, like with a time machine, and tell someone that Pietro needed help. I wish that I hadn't made that promise. But you know what Lance says, if wishes were riches then there wouldn't be any beggars left to make up philosophical phrases about.

So I have to let go.

I'm sorry, Pietro, but I have to let you go. I can't let your death tear me apart. I know that it will hurt everyone really badly when you die, like they're all going to get shot at the same time with the same bullet. I don't want to get shot. So I'm letting go of you now, before it's too late to save me.

You were a really good friend to me, Pietro.

Thank you for all the Icees and the games of checkers-chess-poker.

I'm sorry I couldn't help you.

I will miss you.

Goodbye.

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