Disclaimer: I do not own Static Shock or The Incredibles
Chapter Twenty-Three: Things Best Unseen
Spring was in full bloom.
The air was warm, the sun's light lingered longer into the evening, and every student at Dakota High School was developing rapid and severe cases of spring fever.
Francis stared out the window, watching two birds dip and swirl through the clear blue sky. His gaze flickered to the biology worksheet in front of him and then to the blackboard at the front of the room. Mr. Harrison was describing osmosis, his voice a dull buzz in the silent classroom.
Francis rested his chin on his fist and slumped in his seat. He was bored.
And not just with class.
No villains had shown themselves in weeks. The training at the Sanctum was becoming repetitious and dull. Francis wanted something new, something challenging. He felt like a coiled spring, all tightly repressed energy and no bounce.
The bell rang. Mr. Harrison looked up from the textbook in surprise. He snapped the tome shut. "Don't forget we have a test next Friday, right before Spring Break begins. Don't let the nice weather make you forget about studying."
The students collected their belongings and shuffled out of the classroom.
Francis found his locker and exchanged his biology book for his Spanish one. His bored expression shifted into a slight smile. Spanish meant he could sit next to Frieda and distract her from her perfect notes by doodling inappropriate pictures in the margins for an entire hour.
He passed the gym on his way to Spanish and a bulletin board strewn with brightly colored flyers caught the pyro's attention. Francis read the notice and grinned. That was something new.
"Hey, could I talk to you guys for a second?" Francis stood in the doorway to the observation room over the Loft. Bob spun in his chair away from the control panel and waved Francis in.
"Sure, have a seat." Bob patted the chair beside him.
Helen was watching Dash run a training exercise in the room below. Since Dash was so much younger than the other teens, he trained on his own in a specialized program designed to help him hone his speed in battle situations. Once Dash reached high school, he'd be allowed in on the group training the other teens had. At the moment the little speedster was zipping around the Loft at a breakneck speed, dodging obstacles as they popped up at random intervals.
Francis waited until the training ended and Dash had received his critique from his parents.
Bob shut off the simulation and then both Parrs turned their attention on Francis.
"I wanted to ask if I could stay after school late next week?" Francis asked, idly twisting the chair back and forth.
"What for?" Helen asked.
"Baseball tryouts."
Bob's eyebrow shot for his hairline. "Really?"
Francis didn't know whether to be insulted or amused so he kept his face impassive. "Yeah, I want to play. I'm pretty good. Plus, I'm bored."
"I don't know if that's such a good idea." Helen began. "Would it be drawing too much attention?"
Francis sighed. "Look, I know why you worry about Dash doing sports is because he's got an athletic power. If he accidentally used them in front of a crowd, it could be a problem. But I don't have a power like that. Am I going to light the bat on fire when take a swing? No." Francis shrugged. "I mean, yeah I'm pretty athletic on my own, but there are guys at school who can compete with me. I don't think it'll be an issue."
Helen and Bob exchanged glances.
Francis sighed again. He hated when they held little silent conversations between the two of them. It was so parentally.
"Next week is when tryouts are. So I have to make the team before anything else." Francis added.
Finally, Bob nodded. "I guess it's alright for you to try out. If you make the team, we're going to have to have a discussion about what you're allowed to show on the field. We've been drilling certain techniques and practices into your everyday life that would seem out of place on a baseball diamond. Things that would make people ask questions. We don't want people to ask questions."
Francis nodded. "I understand. I'll try not to stick out too much."
"Well," Helen moved forward and placed a motherly kiss on Francis' forehead. "That doesn't mean you can't go out there and do your best."
"Brown, Kipling, Henderson, Stone." The baseball head coach looked up from his clipboard at the row of teenaged boys sitting the dugout. "You boys are batting first. You get three strikes. The rest of you get into pairs and start throwing the ball around. We'll rotate in a few minutes."
All of the boys immediately got to their feet, most of them grabbing, gloves, a ball, and a partner before finding some open grass to start playing catch.
Francis and three other boys stayed in the dugout. The head coach, Barnes, sent his assistant coach out to the mound with a bag of baseball and indicated for the four to line up in a batting order.
Francis found himself at the end of the line and he leaned against the chainlink fence that wrapped around the diamond. The first to step up to the plate was a scrawny little freshman named Oliver Brown. Francis noticed the kid's right arm was significantly stronger than his left. A pitcher. He smirked. This should be interesting.
Sure enough, two of Brown's three strikes were whiffed at. He managed to get a hold of the last pitch and it fouled back into the fence. Francis jerked his head back as the chainlink rattled.
Kipling and Henderson were both strong seniors who were returning to the team for their last year. Scott Henderson was co-captain of the team. They were veterans and acted like it. There was so much swagger rolling off of Henderson Francis found himself watching the older boy's technique, trying to remember the way he shifted his right foot into the dust for a firmer base when swinging at a pitch.
Henderson popped two pitches to far left field and his last swing took the ball over the outfield fence. Henderson and Kipling high-fived as they left the field.
Barnes gestured for Francis to take his turn at the plate.
The bat was light in Francis' hands. He tightened his grip and choked up like he had seen Kipling do. He twisted his right foot like Henderson had.
The assistant coach's first pitch was a beauty, right over the plate.
Francis stepped into the pitch and felt the ball collide with the midsection of wooden bat.
The ball sailed high into the air and arched gracefully over the centerfield fence.
Barnes turned to look at Francis. "What's your name kid?"
"Stone, Francis Stone." Francis stepped out of the box, a grin creeping up his face.
As tryouts progressed and cuts were made, Francis advanced round after round. By Friday, he was still in contention for a spot on the varsity team.
Francis hadn't tried out for a specific position, but he found himself behind the plate wearing catcher's gear, throwing signals to Brown, who had somehow managed to stick it out as well.
Francis adjusted his mask, and threw one finger down. Brown nodded and checked the runner at first. Fastball.
Brown reared back and pitched. It was a nice pitch. It would have been a strike against just about anybody else.
Unfortunately for Brown, Henderson was at bat and he nailed the ball through a gap in the infield for a solid double.
Brown sighed and tugged on the brim of his cap.
Francis settled back down into a crouch and pounded a fist into his mitt.
The next batter was another varsity veteran, Tommy Howes. He tapped the end of his bat against home plate and confidently fell into his batting stance.
Brown's pitch flew over the plate again and Howes swung, catching the edge of the ball. It fouled back at Francis' face. It struck him in the mask and Francis stuck his glove out instinctively, catching the ball and falling backwards simultaneously.
Howes shouldered his bat looked down at Francis with worry. "You okay man?"
Barnes jogged over to Francis to make sure he was alright. Francis pulled the mask off and sat up. As Barnes approached, the pyro looked up and grinned, holding the caught ball up. "That's an out, right?"
Barnes stopped, frowned, and then burst into laughter. "Sure is. You're out Howes."
Howes grinned, flashed Francis a thumbs up, and trotted back to the dugout.
At the end of the day, when Barnes announced his final roster, Francis' name was scrawled in under catcher.
"So this is certainly new." Frieda looked at Francis the next day, the last day of school before spring break. She reached up and adjusted the hood of Francis' new Dakota High School varsity baseball sweatshirt. All of the guys who had made the team were wearing the hoodies to celebrate tryouts being done with.
"A good new?" Francis asked.
"A great new." Frieda reassured him. She smiled. "Who would have thought that that short-tempered ex-banger who walked through those doors last fall would be an honor roll student and newly turned jock in the spring."
Francis wrinkled his nose. "Damn, I am a jock now aren't I?"
Frieda laughed. "I'll let you in on a little secret." She leaned in close to him, like she was whispering the pass code to the U.S. Mint in his ear. "Girls may fall for the bad boy, but they stick around for the nice guy." Frieda pulled back, running her hands down the front of Francis' sweatshirt. "Just so you know."
The first day of spring break was perfect. The sun rose early and bright, casting a pleasant golden glow over the Sanctum. The Supers within the Sanctum didn't see the lovely sunrise, they were already below ground training, using the vacation time to their advantage to hone their powers and teamwork.
Virgil and his father were in the Loft running a training exercise. Bob, Dash, and Francis were in the control room monitoring. Well, Bob was monitoring. Francis had a sociology book open in front of him and he was reading up on differential association. Dash was pretending to be studying the Superhero playbook he had to have memorized.
"So I hear you made the team?" Bob asked suddenly.
Francis glanced up from the book, raised an eyebrow, and then resumed reading. "Yeah, catcher."
"Congratulations." Bob frowned, his hand hovering over the termination switch. Virgil was coming dangerously close to those blades.
"You know, you can say whatever is you want to say." Francis muttered.
Dash looked up and closed the playbook, this was more entertaining anyway.
Bob spared a glance at Francis, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "Fair enough. I told you before I'm concerned about what might happen during a game or practice. You've been working on exercises and skills in here that normal teenagers don't know. If you stick out too much, people are going to starts asking questions."
Francis nodded. "I know. That's why I went out for catcher. Most of the time, I'm just hanging out behind the plate. When I do have to make a play, I'll make sure it's nothing that will get people talking. When it comes to batting, I'll purposefully strike out sometimes, just to make sure my numbers stay average."
Bob smiled. "Sounds alright then. When does practice start?"
"When we get back from break, so I'll need to stay after school." Francis said.
"We'll work out a new training schedule." Bob agreed.
"You're on the baseball team?" Dash asked.
Francis looked up and grinned at the boy. "Yeah."
"That's cool. Can I come to your games?"
Francis shrugged. "That's up to your parents."
Dash shifted his hopeful gaze to his father. Bob reached out and ruffled Dash's hair. "We'll see."
Helen was manning the communications system in the underground HQ when the call from Dicker came through. His tired and worn face appeared on the screen, more wrinkles lining his features than Helen remembered.
"Helen, good to see you."
"Rick, what's the matter." It was clear something was wrong.
Dicker rubbed a hand over his face. "As you might know, the NSA has been looking into Syndrome's activities and the murders of various Supers over the last 20 or so years. A throughout investigation has taken place."
"And you've found something." Helen filled in the blanks.
Dicker nodded. "We raided one of Syndrome's base of operations here in the States and we came across several video archives. We know Syndrome had cameras all over Nomanisan Island, and it seems he recorded all of the encounters Supers had with his Omnidroid prototypes."
Helen's brow furrowed. "You're saying…he filmed the fights and…the deaths of all of those Supers?"
Dicker nodded again. "There are very detailed noted to accompany the videos, about how the robots operated, places for improvement, that sort of thing."
"Why are you telling me this?" Helen asked.
Dicker's face was grave. "We need you and your team to analyze this videos."
Helen opened her mouth to object but Dicker spoke over her. "You, Bob, and Lucius are the only living Supers with first hand knowledge of these machines, Syndrome's actions, and the strategies of the other Supers. Your insight is invaluable. You'll be able to help us pinpoint dates, motives, and a chain of events. Whatever conclusions you draw will be added to the case we're putting together against what remains of Syndrome's benefactors."
The conflicted look on Helen's face must have shown. "We are not asking for the kids' input. They don't have to know anything about this." Dicker was quick to reassure. What he was really saying was Francis didn't have to know about this. His mother and father's last moments were potentially on those tapes.
Helen mulled the thought over but realized there was only one answer she could give. "Yes. We'll do it."
"I'll send the tapes over. And Helen, thank you." Dicker didn't smile, then again, he hardly ever smiled, but his gratitude was evident. Whether Dicker would ever admit it or not, the Syndrome murders weighed heavily on him. Over a dozen Supers he was responsible for were now dead. Somewhere, he had failed them.
Helen smiled and nodded her understanding before terminating the call. She swiveled around in the chair. Now she had to go break the news to Bob and Lucius that they had to watch videos of their friends and colleagues being murdered and then write up a report on it.
The tapes arrived the next day via an undercover NSA delivery team. Helen exchanged code words with the man with a not so concealed weapon on his belt before taking the slim box from him. She shut the door and opened the lid. A row of shiny silver discs glinted at her.
Bob had heard the door open and close, he walked out of the kitchen to see who it was. He found his wife leaning against the door, staring down at a box she was clutching against her chest.
"Is that…?" Bob asked.
Helen nodded. "Yes."
"That was fast."
"They must be in a hurry to get this done with." Helen answered. She sighed heavily and put the lid back on the box. "The kids are going to the mall today?"
"Yeah, Violet just said they're leaving in an hour." Bob said. They could hear the excited voices of the kids talking in the kitchen.
Helen handed the box to her husband. "We'll do this after they're gone. Take these down to the communications room."
Bob nodded and hurried away. Helen took a moment to plaster a smile on her face before walking back to the kitchen.
"Oh my god. Dash, what did you put in this cup holder?" Virgil tried to wipe his now sticky hand on his pants. His fingers stuck to the fabric.
Dash leaned over the headrest to look. "Oh. Blue raspberry slushie." He grinned. "Looks like Smurf vomit."
"Oh. Ew." Violet wrinkled her nose.
Francis rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm really looking forward to this exciting day out."
"Your sarcasm has been noted, and is not approved of." Violet said cheekily. She opened the driver's side door. "Get in and start being useful."
Francis raised an eyebrow at her. "You're being unusually bossy. What crawled up your butt?"
"Nothing." Francis leveled Violet with an unbelieving look. Violet sighed. "Fine, I'm meeting Tony and I don't want to be late."
"Oooh, Tony Rydinger." Dash sing-songed from inside the car.
"Shut up." Violet snapped without looking at her brother. "So, c'mon. Let's go. We were supposed to have left a half hour ago, but some people thought it would be funny to hide my purse." With that last line Violet did turn her glare on Dash before looking back at Francis. "You're the only one who can drive."
"Yeah, and I'm meeting Richie so if we could get going that would be great." Virgil suggested sarcastically from the passenger seat.
"Okay, okay." Francis held up his hands in defeat. "Just let me…" He patted his pockets then looked up at Violet. "Uh…"
"You don't have the keys?" Violet asked.
"No."
Virgil stuck his head out the window. "My dad had them last I think, down in HQ."
"Okay, no problem. I'll go get them." Francis headed for the door.
"How many is that?" Bob ran a hand through his short blond hair tiredly.
"Four." Lucius muttered. He was slumped in his seat, a hand massaging his temple.
Helen had a notepad balanced on her lap and on it were notes about the previous four deaths they had watched. They had reached the end of the first disc. She put in the next one.
"That looks like a different version of the Omnidroid." Bob observed as the video flickered to life and showed an Omnidroid in the very same jungle that haunted his nightmares. "Looks like Syndrome made some upgrades."
"So, this is the Omnidroid 2.0?" Lucius asked.
Helen made a note of the date and the new Omnidroid, putting an X2 next to the notation.
The video showed a Super from behind, creeping stealthily through the jungle. It was a woman, wearing a red Supersuit. Lucius sat forward. "Oh no."
"That's not..." Bob started and then cut himself off because the woman turned to look over her shoulder and they all got a good look at her face. It was Blazestone. Helen's breath caught in her throat. It really was startling how much her son looked like her.
Blazestone scanned the jungle with a wary eye before returning to carefully picking her way through the trees. Another camera was trained on the Omnidroid X2, lying in wait in the next glen. Blazestone crept closer.
"Lucius, you don't have to watch this. If you want to leave…" Helen had noticed Lucius gripping the armrests of his chair so tightly his knuckles were turning white.
"No. I'm staying."
Bob reached over and laid a hand on his best friend's arm. Lucius relaxed his grip slightly.
Francis wandered down the sterile white hallway towards the communication center of the sanctum's headquarters. As he neared the doorway, he heard what sounded like a fight. Francis frowned in confusion and then nudged the door open a crack to see what was going on.
On the main screen, Blazestone was locked in battle with Omnidroid. Both of her hands were filled with flames and she was flinging blast after blast at the robot to no avail. It was clear Blazestone was losing.
Francis' eyes widened.
The Omnidroid shot a laser beam from its rotating head and it caught Blazestone in her upper right shoulder and spun her around like a top. She fell to the jungle floor, her good hand reaching up to grasp the wound. Blood flowed freely down her arm.
Bob was entranced. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't. It was like watching a car accident. He wanted to reach through the screen and pull Blazestone to safety, but he knew he couldn't. He was helpless, and so was Blazestone.
Blazestone struggled to her feet and screamed in fury. She thrust her good hand forward and an enormous eruption of flame flew from her hands. It punched a hole through one of the Omnidroid's spider-like legs.
"Must be made of a different metal than the final version." Bob muttered.
Blazestone used the moment to fly into the air, fire propelling her escape. It took the Omnidroid a few more seconds to recover from the blast before it folded its legs inside of itself and rolled after Blazestone in pursuit.
Blazestone's injuries were taking their toll. Her flight was clumsy and she was losing altitude. She wouldn't be able to put enough distance between the deadly robot and herself. The hidden cameras tracked Blazestone as she struggled to maintain flight and the succumbed to blood loss and fell into the canopy.
She bounced off a few tree limbs before landing hard onto the ground. Blazestone grimaced and sat up, clutching her wound. Even in such a dire situation, it was easy to see the determination and fury in her eyes behind her black mask.
The Omnidroid rolled into the clearing and sprung back to its feet. Both side guns and its head swiveled to face the downed Super.
Blazestone managed to get to her feet and a blast from one of the side guns forced her to produce a fire shield with her one working hand. The next blast impacted with the shield and knocked Blazestone to her knees. The fire fizzled out.
The next shot hit Blazestone in the stomach and punched a hole through her the size of a fist. Her scream echoed around the room.
Blazestone fell backwards, blood bubbling at the corners of her mouth. She tried to apply pressure to the wound with her good hand. The Omnidroid stepped closer, its shadow falling over the Super.
Blazestone looked up, her bright green eyes startlingly clear, and said one word. "Francis."
The Omnidroid fired one last time.
The screen faded to black.
Helen put the pencil down and cradled her head in her hands, trying to fight down the nausea that had risen in her throat.
Lucius closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, thoroughly exhausted and numbed by the video.
Bob struggled to keep his clenched fists in his lap and not put one of them through the nearest wall.
The sound of running feet shocked all of the adults out of their stupors.
"What was that?" Lucius asked in bewilderment.
Bob looked over to the door, it had been opened. Footsteps echoed down the hallway and then faded as the runner got further away.
"Oh no." Helen sucked in a breath. "Francis."
Violet tapped her foot impatiently before huffing in irritation. "Where is he? We're going to be late."
Virgil was leaning against the side of the van, arms crossed lightly over his chest. "He should've been back by now." He agreed.
Violet stomped towards the door. "He better not have stopped to get a snack or something."
Violet entered the house and walked towards the secret entrance to the underground HQ. She was nearly bowled over by her mother and father hurrying out of the elevator.
"What?" Violet stepped back to avoid being trampled.
"Did you see which way Francis went?"
"Why are you guys not at the mall?"
Violet's eyes widened. "Um. I have no idea. Francis went to get the keys to the van…"
"He probably went to his room." Helen walked quickly in that direction.
Lucius came out of the elevator. "Did you find him?" He noticed Violet. "Why are you here?"
"Fro, do me a favor and drive the kids to the mall." Bob steered both Lucius and Violet towards the garage.
"Can do." Lucius nodded. Bob wanted the kids out of the house. The least he could do was play chauffeur. "C'mon Vi, let's go." Lucius took her by the arm and gently led her away.
"Wait, what's going? What happened?" Violet asked.
"Francis?" Helen knocked on his bedroom door. She was suddenly very grateful Bob had thought not to put a lock on it. Helen nudged the door open. "Francis?"
Francis was sitting at his desk. He looked perfectly calm save for his furiously tapping foot. He was pulling at his hair with one hand and gripping the edge of the desk with his other.
"Francis?" Helen asked again, stepping into the room.
"Why were you watching that?" Francis asked suddenly, not lifting his head. His voice sounded rougher than usual.
"It's a little complicated." Helen closed the door behind her went to sit at the foot of Francis' bed. "Dicker called, one of his teams found these video files in one of Syndrome's offices. He wanted us to analyze them because of our first-hand knowledge. We agreed."
Helen stared at Francis' back. "How much did you see?"
"All of it."
"I'm sorry."
"Not your fault." Francis muttered quietly.
"Still, I wish you hadn't seen it."
"I'm glad I did."
Helen started. "Why?"
Francis' shoulders slumped. Helen wanted to go over and hug him, tell him everything was going to be okay, but she didn't think he would want that. Not yet.
"I have dreams about her, a lot actually. Usually just the same one over and over. The night she left. The weird thing is, I can remember her voice exactly like it was but I can't really see her. She's all blurry or the light is too bright or something else. I forgot what she looked like." Francis turned in the chair to look at Helen. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears; his bright green eyes that were so very much like his mother's. Helen could see the effort Francis was putting in to keep those tears back. "Lucius was right, I look a lot like her."
Helen was silent, mostly because she had no idea what to say.
Francis looked down at the floor and kicked his foot back and forth, swallowing down a lump in his throat.
"She said my name."
He looked up at Helen, and one of the tears broke through and slid down his cheek. "She said my name."
Helen couldn't hold herself back anymore; she rushed to Francis and pulled him into her arms. He didn't resist, like he normally would. Francis leaned into the embrace and Helen felt his body shake with quiet sobs, felt his hot tears soak her sleeve. She didn't say anything. After all, what do you say to someone who had just watched their mother die?
"I told you we were going to be late." Violet said, scanning the food court for Tony. The tall boy was nowhere in sight. "He probably already left."
"We're only fifteen minutes late." Virgil tried to assure her. "Maybe he was running late too."
Violet sipped disappointedly at her Coke. "Maybe."
After another twenty minutes it was pretty clear Tony had either forgotten the meeting or had left when Violet was late.
Virgil checked his watch. "I've got to meet Rich at the comics store in five. You want to come?"
Violet got to her feet. "I guess."
"Aw c'mon." Virgil slung an arm around her shoulders. "So you guys will meet up next weekend. It's not the end of the world."
Violet offered Virgil a weak smile. "I guess."
Richie was waiting outside the comic's store. When he saw Virgil and Violet approaching he waved to get their attention through the crowd. "Hey guys!"
"Hey Rich!" Virgil and Richie exchanged high-fives.
"Hi." Violet nodded in greeting. "How was the drive?"
Richie shrugged. "Not too bad, it's a good thing my dad needed to get something from a specialty store here or he never would have agreed to drive me all this way to meet you guys."
"Have you checked out the selection yet?" Virgil jerked his thumb towards the store.
"I was waiting for my guide." Richie grinned.
Violet rolled her eyes but smiled. "You guys are such dorks."
"Hey Vi, what's with the face?" Richie asked, looking at Violet over a stack of comics he was leafing through. Violet was twirling a strand of her jet-black hair around her finger.
"What face?"
Richie mimicked her pout. "What gave you a case of the frownies?"
Violet's lips quirked into a smile. "I was supposed to meet a…friend…but he didn't show. Or I was late. I'm not sure which."
"Oh, sorry." Richie offered his condolences. Violet went back to trying to pretend to be interested in the array of comics in front of her.
"Hey, I got an idea." Richie snapped his fingers. He put the comics down and walked around the display to Violet. He offered her his hand. "There is no problem on this earth that cannot be made better with ice cream."
Violet looked at Richie's hand and then at his smiling face. She took his hand. "Why not?"
When Lucius and the kids got back from the mall that night, the house was very quiet. Bob was sitting in the living room, bouncing Jack-Jack on his lap watching TV with the volume turned low.
Violet waited a few minutes before succumbing to curiosity. "What happened with Francis?"
Bob and Lucius explained looks. "I don't think we can get away with not explaining." Lucius said.
Bob nodded. "Take a seat you guys."
The kids spread out on the furniture around the room. Virgil and Violet could read by the expressions on their fathers' faces that something serious had happened. Dash switched his confused look between the two adults. "Is Francis sick again?" The little blond speedster asked.
"No." Bob shook his head. "It's something else."
They did their best to explain about the videos and why the NSA wanted their analysis.
"He saw his mom die?" Virgil asked in a quiet voice.
"We thought you kids had left. We didn't know he was there." Lucius explained.
"Wow." Dash sat back in his chair. "Is he okay?"
Bob shrugged. "I don't really know. He's been in his room with Helen since then. I'd suggest we give Francis some space. He's going to need some time to process this."
All of the kids nodded in agreement. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence Lucius stood up. "I'll order pizza for dinner." He left, grateful to have something to do.
Jack-Jack started to fuss so Bob left the room to put him down for a nap.
Violet frowned at the floor. "I hope he doesn't do something stupid."
Virgil looked at her in confusion. "What?"
"Francis." She looked at Virgil. "We all know he's not the greatest at emotion. I just hope he lets us help him and doesn't do something stupid. He's come a long way."
Virgil nodded, thinking back to the old F-Stop had had known. In under a year, that gang banger had gone from terrorizing kids to protecting them, from flunking most of his classes to acing them, from being an emotionally distant, troubled kid to a teenager with a caring family and loving girlfriend. It would be a shame to see all that work and progress undone because of a video.
"Don't worry." Dash said confidently. "He'll be okay. He always is."
Author's Note:
Why did you guys not call me on this? So, I had this whole baseball tryout scene written out as I was writing this chapter and then it got misplaced and not added in to the final product but I didn't realize it. So now, when I was writing the newest chapter and wanted to reference the baseball team, I went looking for the chapter where I had it, but couldn't find it. Ugh, and in chapter 24 I mention Francis making the team but nobody noticed that there was no lead up to that? Are people even reading this? I feel really stupid. Anyhoo, consider it a deleted scene and this is the director's cut. Hopefully things make more sense now. I can't believe I did that.
Review as usual I suppose.