Hi, guys.
Here is chapter 5; I hope you enjoy reading.
Chapter 5
Tina awoke the next morning, feeling sicker than ever. It was Wednesday, one whole week since...
She willed her hands to stop shaking as she got dressed. Would it ever get easier? People said that time healed everything, but when would that happen?
When she went into the kitchen, her parents were sat at the table, slumped in their chairs, with dirty cups and plates in front of them, along with a newspaper. Tina kept quiet as she sat, not wanting to upset them, and glanced at the paper.
Bob raised his head when Tina sat down, and looked over in her general direction. Whenever his eyes met hers, they flashed guiltily, and Tina felt bad for reacting the way that she did; she had just assumed that her father would give the eulogy, without any thought of how it was going to affect him.
She absent-mindedly picked up the newspaper and turned it over, desperate for something to do. She gasped when she saw Louise's photo on the front page.
"They called me last night," revealed Bob, realising what Tina had seen. "The reporters. Wanted an interview, but I said no."
Tina looked back at the paper and started reading the article.
"It has been revealed that Louise Belcher died as a result of dehydration and hypothermia, according to doctors.
Louise, who passed away on February 27th, had spent the previous five days trapped in an abandoned water well. Rescuers had spent more than 110 hours digging to reach her. Since that day, residents have placed tributes at the spot where she died.
"Louise was severely dehydrated, and had moderate hypothermia," said local doctor Steven Cabell in a brief conference, who had been constantly monitoring her while she had been stuck underground. The little girl had been given water and warm air, but had become too weak to maintain her body temperature, and had lost too many vital fluids, revealed the doctor.
Louise's autopsy confirmed that she had several external and internal injuries, including septicaemia, kidney failure, along with a broken ankle and tail bone. Her limbs and back were also severely bruised, and were potentially gangrenous. It was also revealed that Louise had died between the hours of 7 and 8am on the morning of the 27th.
Dr. Cabell and the media ended the conference with a moment of silence to remember Louise.
Nine-year-old Louise was a student at Wagstaff Elementary School, where her older brother and sister also attend. On February 22nd, Louise was passing through Wharf Park as she ran an errand for her father, when she bumped into Logan Bush. The fifteen-year-old had been bullying her for up to a year, and he wanted to perform a wrestling move on her, as 'revenge.' Logan pushed Louise, and she fell into the well, falling 80 feet until she landed at the bottom, and became partially buried in rubble.
What followed was an unprecedented rescue effort, as diggers, firemen, and volunteers descended on the park, wanting to help save this child they had never met.
The thick rock and lack of adequate equipment slowed the volunteers. The men drilled non-stop for five days before they reached the well, only to find Louise dead.
The news of the little girl's passing was met with shock and despair. The little girl who had fought so hard for so long, just couldn't hold on any more.
Louise's funeral is going to be held at St. Peter's Cathedral this coming Saturday at 11am. The dozens of people who worked tirelessly to free her are believed to be attending. Donations that were supposed to be for her hospital care are now being used to cover her funeral costs; the page can be found at Just Giving, "Louise Belcher Funeral Fund."
The family was unable to be reached for comment."
Tina folded the paper and placed it on the table.
"How did they find out?" she asked, forgetting what her mother had said the previous day. Word of mouth didn't usually travel that quickly. It did, Tina realised, especially in the age of the Internet in which they were living. Word could have easily spread over social media; Tina rarely used her Facebook page, so she wouldn't have seen anything. And, of course, all the reporters that were at the well would be following it up.
"Linda said it was okay, remember?" said Bob, as he stood up to attempt to fix breakfast. He made it as far as the stove before he collapsed onto his knees, his shoulders trembling.
"Dad?" Tina went over to him, and placed a hand on his shaking back. She looked around, but Linda still had her head buried in the table. Her shoulders were shaking, as well. Tina didn't know what to do, except pull her father into a hug, as Gene entered the room, looking more pale than she had ever seen him. "Gene -" she began, but paused. "Go and brush your teeth; we have to leave soon." He was not staying home alone today; Bob and Linda wouldn't be able to help him. Tina felt awful for thinking it, but it was true; they were too wrapped up in their own pain. She didn't blame them, but she didn't want to leave Gene on his own; it was better that he went with her.
When Gene had gone to the bathroom, Tina bent down beside her father. "Dad?" she whispered.
"I'm okay; go to school," he choked, and Tina, having no other option, backed away.
"Okay," she said quietly. "Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad; love you both."
"You too," Bob raised his trembling hands to his face.
Tina and Gene arrived at school together, holding hands. Neither of them had lunches; Gene had not eaten much the day before, and Tina was going to make sure he ate properly this time.
Her mind was on the funeral plans. She was almost finished with the tribute video, and after that, all that was left to do was to get photos for the reception. She and Pop-pop could go down to the mall after school, probably tomorrow, and get them printed out. Another idea struck Tina; there ought to be photos of Louise in the church. She resolved to remember that, and made a mental note to speak to Reverend Brooks after school.
Only when everything was done, could Tina then relax. She had already knew what photographs she wanted; most of them were of just Louise, but there were several of her, Louise, and Gene, and some of the entire family together.
As per usual, they were met by Zeke, and he guided them through the halls. Tina really, really hoped that none of the kids spoke to her that day; she didn't think she could handle it.
"Zeke, I have a question to ask," said Tina, once they had reached her locker.
"Ask away, Tina."
"So, you think – could you – could you make the.. food for the reception?" she asked, and Zeke's face softened.
"Of course I will," he said quietly. "Won't be no problem; just tell me what ya want, and I'll whip it up for ya."
"It's in my notebook, but I left it at home."
"Okay, well, just text me the list when you're able to, okay?"
"Thanks, Zeke."
"It's nothin'; anythin' I can do to help, just let me know."
"It's nothing fancy; just easy stuff, but we don't really have the time."
"I understand," he nodded. "I'll make it all, and I'll bring it over on Saturday mornin'."
"That's a big help, thanks."
As they walked through the halls, Tina wondered if going to school was the best idea. It was harder than she ever imagined it would be; attending school exactly one week after her baby sister had passed.
On the other hand, she was reluctant to be around her parents; seeing them like that greatly upset her. She did worry about them being all alone, but what could she do? It wasn't like she was able to care for them. Tina hoped that Pop-pop would drop in or them, or Aunt Gayle, or someone, because her parents couldn't be alone, not today. They couldn't help one another, and so they needed someone to be with them, just to be in the house. She was sure it would help.
Tina was so deep in thought, that she didn't even realise that she had bumped into Mr Frond.
"Tina! Are you okay?" asked the counsellor.
"I'm fine," she said, adjusting her glasses.
"I was just about to come and get you; can you and Gene step into my office, please?"
"Okay," Tina nodded, as she and Gene followed him, and Zeke hung back, waiting for them.
Once inside his office, Frond sat, and gestured for the kids to do the same.
"You've both appear to have been coping okay," he began, "and again, you're brave for coming in today. I've discussed it with the other teachers, and we've agreed, Tina, that you can attend Gene's classes with him. Just for a week, and then we'll review it."
"I can stay with him?" she asked.
"Yes; we felt it would be easier for you to go to Gene's classes, rather than putting him up two grades."
"Okay."
"Is that okay with you, Gene?"
Both Frond and Tina looked over at Gene. Any progress he might have made over the past week had all but disappeared. He stared blankly ahead, eyes wide and expressionless. "Gene?"
Again, nothing.
"He'll be fine; it's better that we're together," said Tina.
"You sure?" Frond was still looking at Gene. "I am a certified counsellor, and so you can always talk to me, both of you." Tina nodded, but said nothing. "I'll do my best to support you both."
"Okay," mumbled Tina.
"The students have come up with a couple of ideas to honour Louise's memory. Are you okay to hear them?" he asked gently, and Tina nodded, feeling numb. "Rudy has suggested a memory book, in which the students can write down their stories and moments about Louise."
"That's nice." Her voice was still numb.
"And another idea is a memorial garden, with a bench, and flowers."
"I really like that," although her voice was still monotonous, she truly thought it was a sweet idea. She imagined herself sitting in Louise's Garden. The very thought was heartbreaking, but the idea of Louise's very own garden was a lovely thing.
"Okay. I'll give your parents a call later on, and if they're okay with it, I'll tell the students, and we can make a start on the memorials. We will need to fundraise for the garden, and so I'll let you know when we get any ideas."
"Okay," Tina whispered. She and Gene stood, and they headed to Gene's classroom. As she sat down, she wondered if it wasn't the best idea for Frond to call her parents. She didn't think they would be up to hear it; Tina worried if they heard about the plans, it would upset them even more, and then Linda would drink more heavily.
Tina couldn't get the idea out of her head, and it played on her mind throughout the lesson. She couldn't help but wonder how they would take the news.
"Hello? Bob, Linda?" Big Bob opened the door to the apartment with his key, and saw a man approach out of the corner of his eye.
"Wait!" Teddy gasped as he caught up with the elder man. "Let me in; I gotta see them!" He placed his hands on his knees, panting.
"Maybe not right now," said Big Bob. "I think it should just be me."
"But I'm his best friend; maybe I can help," Teddy looked up at the window, concern written all over his face.
"I get you wanna help, but too many people is just gonna overwhelm them."
"No, no, no, they need to be around people; being alone isn't good," Teddy insisted.
"Just give it a day or two. Just give them some time to process this a little, yeah?" said Big Bob, before stepping inside, and shutting the door. Teddy looked back up at the window, before slowly walking away. "Bob? Linda?" Big Bob called again, walking up the stairs.
The living-room was empty, but Linda was in the kitchen, asleep at the table. There was an empty wine bottle next to her, and Big Bob bit his lip worriedly. He knew she liked a drink or two; heck, they all did, but this was way too much. He felt like getting rid of all the wine in the house, but he didn't. She was grieving. She'd lost her youngest child; if she needed a little alcohol to numb the pain, then who was he to judge? He sure knew what she was going through. And it wasn't like she couldn't function; she was still caring for her children; she was walking and talking. So, he decided to wait a little while; he just needed to be there for them. Besides, it was only because it had been a week; Linda was bound to find it harder than usual.
He gently took her arm, and shook her shoulder.
"Wha – what?" Her head lolled around, her eyes bleary.
"It's all right," said Big Bob quietly, placing his arm around her shoulders, and leading her out of the room. "Come with me." Linda said nothing, and merely leaned into him as he walked her down the hall, and opened the bedroom door. Inside, he could see Bob lying face-down on his bed. The sight of even more wine bottles didn't make him feel good at all, but what could he do? He couldn't force them to cut down. But perhaps these bottles had been left there over the past week.
He got that terrible jolt, the one every parent feels when they lose sight of their kid in the supermarket, but that quickly dissipated when he saw his son move. Sighing in relief, Big Bob guided Linda to the bed, and covered them both over with a blanket.
"Wha-?" Linda turned her head, but did not lift it from the pillow. Bob only moaned, and buried his face further into his pillow.
"It's all right," Big Bob assured them, not knowing if they were listening. "You just get some sleep; I'll watch the house, and the kids, when they come home." Linda had already gone back to sleep, and so Big Bob retreated to the kitchen, and began to clean.
He was careful about what he touched; he wasn't too sure if Louise had her own special plate, bowl, or cup, so he didn't wash any dishes. It was also the same reason he didn't do too much laundry; again, Louise might have a special blanket or toy, and it wasn't his place to wash it, and make it lose her scent. He washed all the clothes that he knew didn't belong to her, but he didn't touch any of the blankets, leaving them, along with some of Louise's dresses and T-shirts, in the bottom of the laundry basket.
His heart heavy, he cleaned the counter tops, swept, and cleaned the oven. He also organised the fridge, and cleaned the pots and pans, so he could prepare dinner later.
He cleaned the living-room, clearing away all of the rubbish, dusting; he straightened up the bookshelves, and polished the television screen, and the coffee table. Honestly, it was the least he could do for his family; any little thing that would help, he would do his best to do.
When everything had been cleaned, Bob and Linda had still not awakened. Big Bob checked on them, before sitting on the sofa, with nothing to do but wait until Gene and Tina arrived home from school, or until Bob and Linda woke up.
Logan hurried into Huxley High as the final bell rang, his head down, and his hood pulled up. His arrival was timed so that he didn't have to spend any time loitering in the halls; that was just asking for trouble.
He slipped into his chair for first period English just as his teacher picked up the register. Logan pulled his hood down, knowing that it was against the rules, and keeping it up would only result in unwanted attention. He hunched down over his desk, and spoke only once, to answer his name, and did not make eye contact with anyone.
As the lesson went on, something hit the back of his head, causing him to jump slightly, but he didn't dare turn around. His right hand gripped his pencil, and his left clutched the desk, and he braced himself for another hit, but it never came. He still didn't relax, however, and kept himself tense, so as to be prepared.
He had just let his guard down, the teacher had turned around, and he was hit again. It was only a crumpled up piece of paper, but it made his heart race. He shouldn't be here; it was dangerous. He'd told his mother that going back to school was a bad idea, but she didn't listen, as usual. What was wrong with that woman? She never listened.
As soon as classes were over, Logan bolted from his seat, and walked as quickly as he could, weaving between the students on their way to lunch, his head down.
"Logan!"
He had almost walked right into someone.
"Oh. Hey, Scotty." The two teens stood there awkwardly, neither of them knowing what to say.
"So, you're back," said Scotty, his face unreadable.
"Yeah." Logan paused. "Look, I gotta go; I got.. something to do," he lied, before continuing on his way.
Logan made his way outside, and went around the side of the school, intending to leave the property until class resumed. Not too far, he just wanted to be outside of the perimeter, where he wouldn't be harassed.
"Hey, Bush!"
Logan turned around, and was met with a punch to the face.
"Aargh!" he stumbled backwards, hands pressed over his bleeding nose, before he received a punch to the stomach, followed by another. Doubling over in pain, he looked up, and saw Jamie Booth, a twelfth grader, tall and well-built, with short black hair, who used to do wrestling. Upon seeing Jamie's angry face, Logan knew he was screwed. "It was just an accident!" he cried, as a small crowd began to gather. A fair few students exited the playground, and stood around the two boys.
"Accidents don't kill people!" cried a girl whom he did not know. Logan looked around helplessly, and saw that many of the audience had their phones out, and were filming.
"I don't wanna fight!" he gasped, standing up straight, and wiping blood off his face. Jamie only smirked and approached him. The burly eighteen-year-old shoved Logan, causing the younger teen to stumble backwards, and he fell to the ground.
Logan got to his feet, and assumed a protective stance. Everything he'd learnt in his karate lessons seemed to have gone from his head.
"Come on, then, Mr Miyagi," Jamie's hazel eyes glinted as he smirked. "Come on; show me what you're made of!"
"I don't wanna fight," Logan repeated, wiping his nose again.
"If you're brave enough to bully a little girl, then you're brave enough to pick on someone your own size. Come on!" Jamie insisted, his fists up and ready.
"You're bigger than me!" It was true; Jamie had five inches, and at least thirty pounds on him.
"Oh, I get it; you can dish it out, but you can't take it, huh?" Jamie moved forward quickly, his right hook sinking into Logan's face. For someone so large, he was very agile.
"Stop it!" His jaw was throbbing, and his mouth was full of blood from where his teeth had cut into his gums.
"No way, Killer."
"I'm not going to fight," Logan spat out a mouthful of blood, as his voice and knees shook.
"Fine by me." Jamie had quickly moved forward again, and had knocked Logan to the ground in one swift move. He then bent down, and grabbed Logan's shirt, pulling him up, before throwing him back down to the floor, landing a kick to his ribs.
Logan lay there on the ground, feeling as though all the wind had been knocked out of him. "Get up," Jamie ordered. "Come on, get up!" he said, prodding Logan with the tip of his shoe.
Against his better judgement, Logan rose to his feet, spitting out another mouthful of blood. At least if he was standing, he had a better chance of fighting back. He balanced his weight on the balls of his feet, and raised his hands in a defensive stance.
Jamie was standing a few feet away, watching him and smirking. The rest of the kids were still hanging around, still recording, watching with great interest as though it was a favourite show of theirs.
Jamie approached again, and Logan tightened his core, panting slightly. Jamie's fist shot out, and he managed to block it with a forearm strike.
His success was short lived, as Jamie got in another punch to the face, and another. Logan moved back, clutching his eye. He could already feel the bruise forming. With him distracted, Jamie hooked his foot behind Logan's knees, and the teen crumpled to the ground.
"Aargh!" Logan groaned, rubbing his back, it surely bruised as well, now.
"Aw, too much for you, Killer?" Jamie taunted, getting another kick in, this time to the stomach. Logan felt nauseous, his ribs pounding, the feeling of blood dripping into his mouth making him gag.
Jamie loomed over him menacingly, before kicking him in the "V" directly under his ribs, and Logan's body jolted with the impact. His fists clenching, the teen gasped, crying out breathlessly. He felt as though his diaphragm had been paralysed. He'd never felt such pain, and the eager faces and chattering of the students only made it worse.
"All right, now break it up. Break it up!"
Logan opened one eye to see Principal Nolan grab Jamie and drag him away. "Back inside, all of you!" he snapped, clapping his hands at the students, many of whom looked disappointed, but obeyed. "You; detention for two weeks, starting today!" he pointed at Jamie, before bending down next to Logan.
"Aw, but, sir -!"
"I don't wanna hear it; get inside!"
With an angry growl, Jamie stomped away, leaving Nolan and Logan alone.
"Are you all right?" the man asked quietly, as Logan sat up.
"I'm fine," Logan gasped, wincing at the pain.
"You've got quite a few injuries; let me take you to the nurse."
"No!" Logan, now on his feet, began to slowly walk down the street. "I'll just go home."
"Logan, you're hurt, please let me help."
"No; I just wanna go home."
Principal Nolan caught the wobble in his voice.
"Okay; you can go home. We'll sort it out later," he relented.
Logan made his way home as quickly as he could, which was difficult given his condition. He went by the side streets so as not to be seen, keeping his head down, his hands gently clutching his stomach.
When he arrived home, he leaned against the door, breathing heavily. He closed his eyes as he heard footsteps, and heard his mother gasp.
"Logan! Oh, my God, what happened?!"
"I got beat up," his voice wobbled again, and he clutched his stomach harder.
"Oh, my God! Come here," Cynthia placed her arm around his shoulders and guided into the living-room, and sat him on the sofa. "Wait here," she told him, and left the room.
Logan remained where he was, and wiped his nose with a slightly shaking hand, before Cynthia returned with a bowl of water, and an ice pack. "Who did it?" she asked, handing him the ice pack, and Logan held it up to his eye.
"Jamie Booth," he said, watching his mother dipping a cloth into the water, and gently dabbing his face.
"Why?"
Upon hearing this, Logan looked up at her.
"Why?" he repeated incredulously. "Because they're mad about Louise, that's why! I told you this would happen! But you didn't listen," he snarled.
"All right, calm down," she put the cloth down. "Are you gonna be okay? I need to call the school." Without waiting for an answer, she stood, and pulled her phone from her pocket.
"Huxley High School, how can I help you?" answered the receptionist.
"I want to speak to the principal, regarding an incident that happened to my son today," said Cynthia.
"One moment, ma'am."
Cynthia began to pace slowly as her call was put through.
"Hello, Principal Nolan speaking."
"This is Cynthia Bush; my son was assaulted at your school today. What are you going to do about it?" she demanded.
"Ah, Mrs Bush, I was going to call you. I am so sorry about what happened. I've been compiling a list of witnesses, and been talking to the boy who started the fight."
"It was not a fight – wait, witnesses? What witnesses?" Cynthia turned around to face Logan, but as he opened his mouth, Nolan began to speak, and Cynthia held up her hand to him.
"Several of the students were watching, Mrs Bush, and so I've been talking to them."
"So, you let a group of kids watch my son being beaten? I hope they're going to be punished?"
"Well, ma'am, once we've spoken to everyone, and find out what actually happened, then we can decide on the punishment."
"What will it be?"
"We're not too sure at the moment, ma'am, as the attack happened outside of school property."
"You left school?" she looked over at Logan, who nodded. "Why?"
"Because I didn't want something like this happening!" he gestured to his face, and Cynthia returned her attention to her phone.
"Well, what about the other boy? The instigator? What's his punishment going to be?"
"We've given him detention for two weeks, and we have called his parents and notified them of the situation."
"Detention for two weeks?" Cynthia dead-panned. "That's it? You think that's enough for the vicious attack on my child? Oh, you are useless!" she snapped, hanging up, and facing her son. "Why didn't you tell me there were people just standing around and watching?"
"You didn't exactly give me a chance," he pointed out.
"I think that's disgusting, and I think we should call the police," she said, sitting back down next to Logan.
"What?"
"I'm going to file an assault report."
"Mom, no!" he grabbed her wrist as she reached for her phone once again.
"Why not? Don't you want them punished?"
"It'll get worse if you do that," he said. "When Jamie finds out, he'll kick my ass even worse!"
"No, he won't; he'll be in jail."
"Not forever. Ever heard of bail? And when he gets out on bail, he's gonna come looking for me. Don't do it, Mom."
"But look what he's done to you!" she spluttered.
"If you do it, he'll do it again, but worse. Or somebody else will; you can't get everyone thrown in jail. If you go to the police, I won't say anything," Logan insisted, staring his mother in the eye, trying to make her see sense.
"... All right, I won't go to the police. But, we're going to the doctor, just to make sure you're okay," she said, and Logan nodded. He knew it would probably be just some bruising, with the worst of the damage being the inside of his cheek. All of which could be dealt with at home.
"I'm not going back to school any more," he said, once again, as he and Cynthia stood..
"Okay, fine," she said, and Logan blinked. It looked as though it had finally sunk in.
Tina and Gene found themselves back at St. Peter's Cathedral when school had let out, and were again looking for the reverend. Rather than go into the back room, as she had done the previous time, Tina simply waited for him to come out. The both of them waited in silence, Gene looking straight ahead at the knave, while Tina's gaze was focused on the beautiful stained glass windows. She had always been fascinated by them, about how all the little different coloured bits of glass were able to be stuck together in just the right place to make a picture. She'd used to try making her own when she was younger, using coloured tissue paper, but they never turned out right.
Reverend Brooks came out of the room after a while, and offered the children a warm smile upon spotting them.
"Good afternoon, what can I do for you today?" he asked, approaching them.
"Reverend? Would it be all right if we had photos of Louise in here?"
Brooks looked down at her sadly, though he did not let it show on his face.
"Of course it will."
"Thank you," Tina paused before continuing. "Even big ones?"
"Yes, of course," the minister repeated.
"Reverend, can we have a song playing while – while Louise is being.. buried?"
"I see no reason why not. Is it going to be a live band or a pre-recorded artist?"
"Pre-recorded, on a CD."
"Yes, that can be arranged."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, it won't be any problem at all. We have some portable speakers in the back, and your phone will plug right in."
"Oh. We don't have it on a phone." Tina hung her head.
"Oh. That's okay. If a friend or a relative has a phone, then they can play the song through it."
"Okay," said Tina. "We can do that."
"All right," the priest nodded. "Don't worry about bringing the photos and the music here; it will all be taken care of."
"By who?"
"Your funeral director has already arranged it; Mort, his name is. He's agreed to bring the music here, so it's ready when everyone arrives, and I'm sure he won't mind bringing the pictures."
"Okay," said Tina "Well, thanks again."
"You're welcome. Goodbye."
"Bye."
Tina and Gene arrived home to find the house looking cleaner than it had for a while, and the whole family gathered in the living-room.
"Hey, kids," whispered Gayle, who couldn't seem to keep her hands off her locket.
"Hi. Pop-pop, will you help me with something?" asked Tina, as she took a seat next to her father.
"Of course; anything, sweetheart," he said kindly. "But first, I want to show you something, that just arrived." Tina noticed a rather large box, and for reasons she couldn't quite explain, she didn't want to know what was inside.
"Who sent that?" she whispered.
"Mort; you two just missed him." Big Bob took the lid off the box and pulled out several smaller boxes, opening them all. He lifted up something silver, and once Linda realised what it was, she gasped.
"Her hand," she said quietly, reaching out for the cast, but Big Bob handed her a different one.
"This ones yours," he told her. "They've been engraved with the names," he pointed to the bottom of one of the wrists, where the words 'Linda and Louise' were neatly written. Linda took the cast, her shoulders shaking. She never expected it to be so detailed, so lifelike; she could see every line, every crease, everything. Linda could see the little dimples on the back of her Louise's hand, the little creases on the knuckles, and every minute detail on her little fingernails.
"Oh, God!" she clutched it to her chest.
Big Bob handed everyone else their casts, holding his own tightly. Also in the box were the Plaster of Paris casts, and the individual casts of Louise's hand, and he handed those out, as well.
"It's so small," Bob sniffled, examining the little handprint. Louise's entire hand would fit into Bob's palm easily. "I never realised how tiny her hands are."
Tina took her casts, and handprint, noting that they were heavier than she expected. Now, she was extremely glad that she'd gotten it done; seeing Louise's hand being tenderly held by her own, offered her a small bit of comfort.
Gene was staring at his own cast, and he was holding the handprint up to his face, as if trying to memorise it. The handprint was extremely detailed, as well, and he gently touched it. He could feel all the little creases and lines; it felt just like he was touching her hand.
"I'll be right back," Tina murmured, rising and heading out of the room, pausing to grab her parents' phone on the way. Once in her room, Tina placed them on her dresser in front of the mirror. She didn't want to put them on her nightstand, not yet. At that moment, just knowing they were in her room was enough.
Sitting on her bed, Tina opened the phone, as Gene came into her room, and texted Zeke.
'Hey Zeke its Tina Belcher. The food for the reception is
cheese and crackers
sandwiches
potato wedges with dip
cocktail sausages,
pizza fingers
cake'
Tina lay back on her bed, and barely had time to look at the ceiling before the phone buzzed and she looked back at the screen.
'sure thing girl. what kinda sandwich filling do u want also if u want different kinds of pizza lmk'
'I hadn't thought about fillings or different pizza types. Sorry,' she texted, feeling a little guilty about making him do even more work.
'got any ideas?'
'Not really. Anything simple.'
'u got it. cheese pizza and pepperoni pizza ok? any type of cake?'
'That's fine.'
'alright then. if u want somethin special lmk anything its not a problem'
'Ok'.
Tina put down the phone and headed back into the living room. She wasn't as helpful as she could have been, and both she and Zeke knew that, but they also knew that Tina was doing her best. Zeke wasn't about to pester her with information when it was obvious that the poor girl was doing everything she could to keep it together.
"Pop-pop?" she asked, looking at the Belcher family hand cast that now rested on the coffee table. She couldn't take her eyes off it; both of Bob's hands, then both of Linda's, then both of hers and both of Gene's, gently holding Louise's, from biggest to smallest.
"Tina? What is it?" her grandad's voice brought her back to reality.
"Can you take me to the mall tomorrow after school?"
"Sure, I can. What's it for?"
"I'm going to print out some photos of Louise; for Saturday, you know." Tina heard the sharp intake of breath from her father, but kept her eyes forward.
"Sure," Big Bob repeated. "I'll pick you and Gene up when school finishes, okay?" Tina nodded.
"We'd better go now," said Bob quietly. "Mort won't let us in after five."
"Okay," said Linda, as they rose, and left to go and visit Louise.
Wiping down a recently vacated table, Jimmy Pesto Senior became aware of a tapping sound. Looking up, he glanced around for the source. Trev was behind the bar, wiping menus, and more than half the tables were full of customers, eating and chattering away.
He then caught sight of a man outside, looking at him and tapping on the glass, and so Jimmy gestured for him to come inside, to see what he wanted. He wasn't about to stand outside in the chilly March air.
"Yeah, can I help?" he asked, standing at an angle, so as to keep one eye on the restaurant. The man was much shorter than he, and was holding a small tablet, along with a stylus, which was poised over the screen.
"Hi, my name's Alan Summerville; I'm a reporter over at the Oceanside Times. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about Louise Belcher?"
"Me?" Jimmy looked slightly taken aback. "Why?"
"Well, you live opposite them, you know the Belcher family, right?"
"Uh, yeah, I do."
"Isn't there anything you want to say about Louise? Anything at all?"
"Uh..." If he had to be honest, Jimmy felt slightly put on the spot, and he didn't really know what to say. He looked over at Bob's shabby restaurant, at the empty diner, the 'closed' sign, and at the apartment above the little eatery. The apartment that seemed to radiate with sadness. "What do ya wanna know?"
"Well, what was she like?"
"Well, she was.. full of beans," he said honestly, after a while. "Always busy, always into things."
"What kind of things?"
"Normal kid stuff, you know? Making lots of noise, playing with her brother and sister -"
"She was friends with your children, wasn't she?" Alan interrupted.
"Uh, yeah; they would play over at her house sometimes, yeah."
"And she was a happy child?"
Jimmy hesitated again. 'Crazy' would have been his first word to describe Louise; very loud, a little bit unhinged, and bossy were rather fitting, he thought. But, he just couldn't bring himself to say those things. Louise had some good qualities, he was sure. He'd just never taken the time to find out what they were.
"Yeah; real happy," he said, after a moment. "Just a real, normal kid, you know? I know she was real close to her family, real close."
"And how do you think her family are feeling right now?"
"No, I – no. No comment." Jimmy smoothed back his hair, regretting speaking to the man. "Come on, man, out you get; I got work to do."
"All right, then. Thanks for speaking with me," said Alan, before turning around and walking out. Jimmy only shook his head as he watched the man walk away.
"Who was that?" came a squeaky voice from behind him, causing him to jump.
"Ah!" He turned around to see Andy and Ollie standing together. Looking about, he saw Jimmy Jr. standing nearby. "Oh. Has school finished already?" he asked, more to himself.
"Yeah, school finished at 3, and it's now 3:30," Andy told him. At least, he thought it was Andy. Hey, they were identical; it was only natural if he sometimes got them mixed up.
"That was a reporter," he told them, shooing them away from the windows.
"Well, what did he want?"
"He wanted to talk to me about Louise," said Jimmy honestly, noticing how the boys' glanced at one another.
"It's her funeral on Saturday," said Ollie quietly, both twins looking down at the floor.
"Yeah," was all Jimmy said.
"Are we going to it?" asked Andy, and Jimmy was again caught off guard.
"Uh, I don't know; I haven't really thought about it," he admitted, noting that the the twins exchanged glances once again. "Do ya wanna go?" he asked.
"Yes," they replied in unison.
"I don't," came Jimmy Jr's voice, from where he was now sat on a barstool. "I don't like funerals; they're creepy."
"Yeah, I know what you mean." Jimmy looked back at the twins. "Maybe you're a bit young for that kinda thing..." he trailed off.
"But we wanna go!" cried Andy.
"Why?" asked Jimmy Jr.
"Because Louise is our friend," Ollie told him, looking over his shoulder.
"Well, if you really wanna go, then I'll take you," Jimmy promised. "I suppose you oughta get a chance to say goodbye." It wasn't as if they had to go up to the casket, he reasoned; he himself probably wouldn't. Seeing a dead body wasn't on his list of things he wanted to see, and he doubted that it ever would be.
"Dad, I don't wanna go!" whined Jimmy Jr.
"All right! You don't have to go," said his father, taking a hurried look around at his customers. "You can stay here."
"By myself?" the teen looked hopeful.
"Depends on if Trev's going," Jimmy decided that he would ask his faithful bartender later. Trev would probably go if Jimmy was. Jimmy Jr. would be okay on his own for a few hours; it wasn't like he was a toddler. As long as there was Wi-Fi, and food in the fridge, then he'd be fine.
Later that evening, Tina sat back down at the laptop, continuing her work on the tribute video, finishing it two hours later.
She'd gotten up the courage to ask Mort if they could use his phone for the final song, the one that was to be played at the cemetery, and he'd agreed. He had said he would be able to find the song, but Tina had insisted on using his computer in the other room, and getting the right one. She had to make sure that he didn't accidentally download the wrong version, or the right one with an inappropriate intro or outro. It had to go right.
Whilst the video was being downloaded onto a new DVD, Tina, desperate for something to do, made a start on her homework. Gene, however, did not, and only watched the progress bar on the screen.
"Gene?" she said quietly. "You okay?" It was a stupid question, and she knew it, but she didn't know what else to say. As was expected, he didn't answer, and Tina grew more worried. Seven whole days, and Gene had not uttered a word. She didn't know whether it was normal or not. The grown-ups didn't seem too concerned, so maybe she shouldn't be, either? But she was worried; this was Gene; he had never been this quiet in his entire life, except perhaps when he was in the womb. She decided to wait until after the.. funeral; he was just processing everything. They all were. "Are you coming with me and Pop-pop tomorrow?" she asked. "To get pictures?"
Gene didn't look at her. "You don't have to talk," she reminded him, "but please just nod or shake your head." She kept her head down, focused on writing in her school book, which rested on her knees, but she saw Gene nod out of the corner of her eye, and she breathed a small sigh of relief. At least he was still interacting; he hadn't shut down completely. That was good, right?
When Tina had finished her homework, which truthfully, was quite badly done (which could only be expected), she placed it in her backpack. When the video had finished, she put the new DVD into a clear case, marked "tribute for Louise," on it with black pen and put it safely in her desk drawer.
Tomorrow, they would print out the pictures, and then they were done. All that was left to do was... bury her sister.
Tina shook her head slightly, before closing the laptop, and crawling in her bed. She reached under her blanket, and pulled her shoes off, feeling Gene flop down beside her.
The following afternoon, Tina and Gene waited outside their school for their grandad. They stood just off to the side of the steps, and watched the cars drive by. Zeke was waiting with them; he wasn't going to go to the mall, but he stood there to make sure no one pestered them.
Soon enough, Big Bob pulled up as promised, and Tine and Gene climbed in, with Tina giving Zeke a small wave.
Tina had been doing her best to interact with her friends, but people still kept staring, kept treating her as though she was made of glass, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could handle it, especially as Rudy kept following her around like a lost puppy.
Pulling up outside OMG Mall, the three of them went inside, and they headed straight to Snap Decision Photography. Tina had a memory stick with all the photos she needed on it, and they wordlessly went over to the printing booth.
Two photos of a smiling Louise were the largest and would be displayed on the altar at the church. The rest would be slightly larger than normal photo size, and arranged around the house for the reception.
With each photo that printed, Tina grew sadder and sadder, and the happier the picture was, the more she couldn't look. She was immensely glad when they were done, and Big Bob took all the pictures over to the counter.
The large box of photos was carefully placed in the back seat of the car, and then they drove home. When they arrived back at the apartment, all the rest of the family were there, sat in the living-room.
Linda was holding Bakeneko, and Bob was cuddling Dodomeki, and Al, Gloria, and Gayle were scattered about the room.
"How was school?" asked Gayle when Tina and Gene walked in, with Big Bob following them.
"Fine. We went to the mall, and printed some out some photos of Louise," Tina gestured to the box that Big Bob was holding. He placed it on the table and opened it, the family gathering around to examine the photos.
"Oh, I love that one," said Al, pointing to a picture of a smiling five-year-old Louise, her front teeth missing.
"This one is adorable," Gayle picked up a photo of little six-year-old Louise standing at an angle, and holding a hula hoop. Her smile was wide, like she was in the middle of laughing.
Another photo was taken just last year; one of Louise with her face in one of those face-in-hole seaside photo booths, one of a lobster.
There was a photo of Louise riding her big-girl bike, a photo of five-year-old Louise on her dad's shoulders; on the Scramble Pan when she was three. Her first time ice-skating when she was four, Linda behind her and holding her hands; standing on a stool next to Bob in the kitchen, elbow deep in cake batter, when she was three; baby Louise being held proudly by Linda.
As Louise had gotten older, she had enjoyed posing for the camera less and less. It wasn't that she was shy; far from it, but she disliked taking time out of her day to freeze and smile, especially as Linda insisted on getting at least two or three pictures of every occasion. Hence why there were more candid photos as Louise grew. There was a picture of Louise, Gene, and Tina a couple of years ago, in the middle of building a snowman, Louise's face, pink from the cold, scrunched up in concentration. Holding several water balloons under her arm, with another one in her hand, ready to strike; carving a pumpkin with her siblings.
Tina decided that she liked the candid photos the best; they showed the real Louise.
The one that hurt Tina's heart the most was the one at the bottom of the pile. It was taken on Christmas morning, Louise's last Christmas. Linda had taken lots of photos that morning, as she did every year, but she had taken this photo of Louise, standing in front of the tree, her arms full up with her new toys, grinning widely.
Tina stared at the photo. It was the last ever picture anyone had taken of Louise. If she had only known that she had less than two months left with her precious sister, she would have photographed and videoed every second of every day. And she wouldn't have let her go to Wharf Park.
She said nothing, and focused on all of the pictures, as she heard her parents try to compose themselves. When their crying had subsided somewhat, she began to gather them all up into a neat little pile, and placed them back in the box.
Tina stored the box safely in her bedroom, before returning to get ready to visit Louise in the Chapel of Rest with the rest of her family.
~ X ~
Zeke is a saint, and I won't hear a word otherwise.
What did you think? I'd love to know.