For disclaimer on Meet the Robinsons, please refer to chapter one.

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Chapter Two: April Terrors

"No-no," the boy muttered, "I-I can't!"

The dark-haired boy stared intensely into sapphire eyes. "Look, I messed up…" His heart pounded painfully in his chest. "But now it's up to you…" Wilbur swallowed the lump in his throat. "You can do it, Dad." Then his body began to fade, lifting away like a foggy sky.

"Lewis?" Wilbur screamed. "Lewis!" And for the second time in one month, he found himself bolting straight up in bed, feverishly drenched in sweat.

Wilbur realized he had woken up in the middle of the night, panting heavily. The panting turned into choked sobs, as Wilbur sunk back into his sweat-soaked pillow. He glanced over at his alarm clock. It read 12:00 AM Wed. 4/29/37. Everything that had happened was just a tragic dream.

The dream he had was way more intense than he had a month before, and what troubled Wilbur was suspecting that the dream was possible for a life that could have been his. His father had said to him before about experiencing events in his sleep from different lifetimes that were altered in the past.

It was getting harder to try to suppress the tears and cries that desperately wanted to come out of him. Wilbur Robinson does not cry, he reminded himself. But who cares? he thought. No one was watching him. This nightmare had been so disturbing, he nearly gave in and let himself cry. Though, he managed to fall into a dreamless sleep before shedding a tear.

Wilbur woke again later in the morning, with bright light shinning in his room. His head felt cold and heavy, yet the rest of his body felt painfully hot and sweaty. It took him several minutes for him to realize that he had a sopping wet washcloth placed on top of his forehead.

A few more moments passed before Wilbur heard a soft knock on the door. As the door opened, Wilbur saw out of the corner of his eye the turquoise skirt of a woman's dress, and a tray full of food being carried toward him.

"What time is it?" the boy asked.

"It's ten forty-five," came the Bulgarian-accent reply. "Franny came in earlier to wake you up for school, but oh! Quite a fever you have! Even in your sleep, Franny could tell how ill you were. She called your school's office to report your absence while I made your soup."

The tray was set down, and soft, brown curls came into view. Wilbur stared up into the woman's large, deer-like eyes as she took off the washcloth and gently helped him sit up.

"Auntie Billie? You think you could stay with me for a while?" he asked as she relocated the tray onto his lap.

"Sure thing, kiddo," she replied, sitting down on the side of his bed. "Eat up while it's still hot. It will make you better." Aunt Billie picked up a plastic bottle. "Uncle Art brought you multi-vitamin gummies! They're shaped like little race cars!"

"What am I, a kid?"

"Yes!"

He noisily slurped up a spoonful of chicken broth.

"Your father is really worried about you, you know. Saying that you've been having night terrors and then breaking out into a fever once you wake up."

Wilbur coughed, dribbling some soup from his lips. "He hasn't said what the dreams were about, did he?"

"Oh, he wouldn't do that. Not unless you wanted him to."

Wilbur took another sip of soup when he heard a familiar tune wafting through his room.

"There's maybe a way I could tell you…"

Wilbur threw down his spoon irritably. "I wish he would stop singing that song!" he yelled, picking up his pillow and throwing it in the direction of his bedroom door. Folding his arms across his chest, he grumbled, "He gets on my nerves."

"Shout it from the brink"

"You're louder than you think"

Billie tried to hide her giggle. "It's notfunny," Wilbur muttered, glaring at a corner of the room.

"Oh but Wilbur, indeed it is!" The boy pouted. "Don't let Frankie get to you," his great aunt advised, as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know he can be a bit of a tease," she continued, rolling her eyes, "but he's just trying to have some fun. He means no harm, so try to… oh, how do you say? You should try to 'go with flow'."

Wilbur was still and silent, before bursting out with laughter. To hear his aunt to say something like, "go with the flow" was so hilarious, it actually made him feel a bit better.

Billie lifted the tray from his lap and placed it on the nightstand. "You better get some more rest." Wilbur collapsed onto his pillow with a smile on his face. He did not feel so feverish anymore.

End of Chapter Two

14 September 2007