Chapter Two

It was nearly two in the afternoon. On one side of the coffee table sat the Spring family. On the other, the Peabody family. Sherman and William were sitting directly across from each other, staring into hazel eyes that matched their own. William had seen pictures of them together as infants, but looking at Sherman now, it was like staring into a mirror.

He was the first to break eye-contact, and stared at an unusual painting on the wall. He hated Sherman, and always had. For as long as he could remember, he was not allowed to be anywhere by himself, or go to a sleepover, or summer camp. On his birthday, there were presents and cake, but a lingering sadness, because it was Sherman's birthday too.

It used to make him feel bad, hating his brother. After all, he was the one his parents still had. He was the one who was not dead in a ditch somewhere. Poor Sherman, everyone always said, thrown from a car and left for dead.

Only, Sherman was not dead. Sherman was perfectly fine, and had been for the past seven years. In fact, he was more than fine. William had noted how big and elaborate the penthouse was, not to mention the evening news had revealed it contained a time machine.

For seven birthdays, William had been given fake smiles because all anybody thought about was poor little Sherman, and all along, poor little Sherman was having the time of his life in some expensive house with a time machine.

"I'm sorry!" Mrs. Spring gasped out. "I just can't stop staring! You've gotten so big!"

William wanted to say, 'Mom, he looks just like me. You shouldn't be surprised at all', but he did not. He kept his mouth shut, and played with a loose thread on his shorts.

"So, Sherman," Mr. Spring said, rubbing his hands together. "Do you like sports?"

"I play soccer," Sherman said. "And Mr. Peabody said when I get older I can go out for track and field. Right now, I don't have the correlation."

"Coordination," Mr. Peabody corrected automatically. He stood up and clapped his paws together. "This has been a very exhausting day. I think we should let Sherman get some rest. I wouldn't want him to have to miss school two days in a row."

The Springs stood up too, and Mrs. Spring reached for Sherman, who only drew back, and William took her hand instead.

"Can you believe it?" Mr. Spring chuckled, sounding a little sad. "You have a brother and sister."

"You have a mommy and daddy!" Alice said, hugging onto her father.

"I…" Sherman became shy. "I have a dad."

"That's a dog," Alice blurted out. "I mean a daddy-daddy."

Sherman looked pleadingly at Mr. Peabody, who received the silent message and said politely, but firmly, "I bid you good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Spring."

"Call us Joe and Nancy," Mr. Spring said, looking at Sherman. He swallowed hard and told his other son, "I hope to see you again, Champ."

William bristled. That was the pet name his father called him.

"I'm going to be late for soccer," he pointed out. "Come on, Mom. Come on, Dad."

"We have to get him back!" Nancy said, once they were in the car. "Joe! That's our son we're leaving there!"

Mr. Spring fastened his seatbelt, sighing.

"That may be a dog in there, but he's won the world over," he told his wife. "I can't just grab Sherman and high-tail it."

When his wife broke down in tears, he held her hand and said, "We'll get a lawyer. We'll get Sherman back. He was never an orphan. It was a mistake, and the legal system will work in our favor, Honey."

Alice kicked her feet in her car seat. "Sherman's going to come and live with us?"

"That's right, Pumpkin," Her father said, smiling at her in the rear-view mirror. "He's your brother, after all."

William stared out the window at the penthouse. He did not want Sherman to come home. He wanted him to stay on top of that building with that talking dog and leave his family alone.

When they arrived at the soccer game, his parents hardly paid any attention. The first game of the season, and they stood amongst the other parents, whispering and hugging. It didn't take a genius to know they were talking about Sherman, and William felt tears burning in his eyes. Just another thing for his so-called brother to ruin.

"William, where have you been?!" Nancy shrieked when Mrs. Thomas drove him home.

On a spur of the moment, the six-year old had decided to ride the school bus home with his friend. It was fun. He had never ridden a school bus. His mother or father always picked him up, terrified that kidnappers and carjackers were hiding around every corner, waiting to get him. When Jason had asked him to come over and play video games and eat pizza and spend the night, William knew his parents would never say yes. They would do as they always did-encourage William to invite his friends over to his house.

William rode the bus home with Jason, and they had played basketball in the driveway, tested Jason's new fighting video game, ate chocolate chip cookies, and that's when Jason's mother had informed the boys that the police were at William's house.

"Mom, I was just playing," William tried to explain, but his mother wrapped her arms around him, shaking and crying.

"Don't ever do that again!" She choked out.

And William didn't. He hadn't even needed punishment. Seeing his mother hysterical with disheveled hair and mascara running down her face, police officers on his lawn…it was then he realized that Sherman's disappearance really had shaken his parents up.

As he laid his head on his pillow that night, he scowled at the ceiling.

"I hate you, Sherman," he hissed into the darkness. "I hope you're never found."

"Mr. Peabody?" Sherman asked as his father towel-dried his hair.

Sherman was old enough to take a shower by himself, but he had a bad habit of not washing all of the shampoo out.

"Yes, Sherman?" The dog asked.

"William really did look like me, didn't he?"

"Well, yes," Mr. Peabody said. "You're twins."

"You said you found me in a box," Sherman said. "So I guess somebody put you there."

Mr. Peabody stopped drying the boy's hair for a moment. He waited to see where Sherman was going with this.

"If you lost me, would you stop looking for me like they did?"

It made the dog's heart swell. He walked around to face Sherman, and tapped his chin to make him raise his head and look at him.

"I would search the universe to find you," he promised.

Sherman smiled a little, and shook his head, spraying his father with water droplets. They both laughed, and Mr. Peabody hung the towel on the bar next to the shower.

"Get your pajamas on and brush your teeth," he said. "You have to be beyond tired."

He left the bathroom to give Sherman time to dress, and met him in his room once the boy was in bed. For years they'd been in sync with their routine, and he was hardly a second late to tuck his son into bed.

Sherman yawned and drew designs in his comforter with his pointer finger.

"Mr. Peabody?" He asked, his eyes opening and closing.

"Yes, Sherman?" His father smoothed out his covers and fluffed his pillows.

"Remember when you said Ms. Grunion couldn't take me away as long as you were around?"

"And she didn't," Mr. Peabody said, though he knew what was coming next.

"Will the Springs take me away?"

"No, Sherman," Mr. Peabody said, though deep in his heart he knew it was very possible. "Not as long as I'm around."

Sherman yawned again. "I love you, Mr. Peabody."

"I love you too, Sherman." He kissed him. "Get some rest."

"Mmhmm." Sherman rolled over, and in a matter of seconds his breathing became slow and deep.

The dog stood in his doorway and murmured, "No matter where you are, you're always my son."

"I'm running late," Joe Spring said, grabbing a slice of toast from the kitchen counter. "See you all tonight!"

"Don't forget to call the lawyer!" Nancy reminded him, tucking some hair behind her ear.

"I will," her husband promised, and paused to sigh dreamily. "Just think, our family's going to be whole again."

William circled his spoon around in his Cocoa Puffs, listening. Alice listened too, and said, "Is Sherman going to share a bedroom with Will?"

William looked at his parents.

"Of course he will," Mr. Spring said. "That used to be Sherman's room too!"

William pushed his bowl away.

"Why does he have to come home? It seems like he's pretty happy living with Mr. Peabody to me."

His parents laughed, and it made him scowl. He had not said anything amusing!

"Honey, Mr. Peabody is a dog," his mother explained. "Boys don't need to have dogs for parents, and besides, Sherman's home is here. He wasn't an orphan like Mr. Peabody thought he was."

"Another bed won't fit in my room," William pointed out.

"We'll get bunk beds," his father said, shrugging. "I'm out!"

Mrs. Spring moved around the kitchen, humming and twirling, something William had never seen her do. She looked out the kitchen window and chuckled.

"I wonder if Sherman is thinking about us right now," she said out loud.

"I think so," Alice said. "I think he's thinking of having a twin. He's probably thinking, 'There's another me! Well, that's pretty crazy!' "

Her mother laughed affectionately and kissed her daughter's head. "It probably sounds crazy, but I think deep down your brother remembers us."

"Will," she said. "Don't be late for your bus, Son."

Their last time traveling adventure was 1910 to see Halley's Comet. Mr. Peabody had been saving the trip for Sherman's eighth birthday, but through a quiet, private legal discussion between the Springs, the state of New York, and Mr. Peabody, it had been decided.

Sherman was not an orphan, and because he was a minor with a family, he was to be returned to them immediately.

"Wow, Mr. Peabody!" Sherman said, hopping up and down behind the telescope. "This is pretty fantastic!"

"I couldn't wait until your birthday," his father confessed.

The two of them sat on the grass, looking up at the sky, and Sherman turned to his father.

"My birthday isn't for five months," he said.

Mr. Peabody didn't say anything to that. He just pulled Sherman against him, and explained trivia about the stars and comets and how people throughout history had interpreted them. The two of them stayed like that until it became to chilly, and then made their way back to the time machine.

When Sherman was tucked into bed that night, Mr. Peabody removed the boy's glasses and said, "I, ehm, I'm keeping you home from school tomorrow."

Sherman sat up. "What? Why, Mr. Peabody?"

"We'll talk about it in the morning," his father promised. "Right now, just get some sleep. You have a big day tomorrow."

William watched with disgust as the bunk beds were assembled and his chest of drawers were pushed against the wall, so close to the closet that the door would not slide open all the way.

For days, the Springs had been preparing for the arrival of their lost son, and William was not happy about it. His parents had told him that room had to be made for his brother's things, and they bought personalized knick knacks like mugs and a baseball cap that read 'Sherman' on them.

"You know what, Honey?" Mrs. Spring said, as her husband slid William's desk over to the far wall. "Let's move the dresser and the desk around."

"I want my desk where it is,' William growled, but his parents ignored him.

He sat on the top bunk of the bunk beds and watched as his entire room was rearranged to fit the needs of a stranger.

"I hope Sherman likes to play Hide and Seek," Alice said, climbing onto the bottom bunk. "Hey, Will! Now two of us can hide and one of us can seek!"

Mr. Spring laughed. "You three are going to have a blast!"

William only rolled his eyes.

"What do you mean I have to go live with them?!" Sherman exploded, jumping up from his place on the sofa.

"Sherman, sit," his father commanded.

"NO!" Sherman clawed his hands through his hair. "You said you'd never let anybody take me away as long as you were around! That's what you said!"

Mr. Peabody's heart was breaking, but he had to be firm, for Sherman's sake. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to pack his son up and move to Mexico.

"Sherman, we have to be fair," he told him. "These are your parents, and they love you."

"I thought you were my parent and you loved me!" Sherman said, starting to cry.

"I love you more than anything in this world," Mr. Peabody said, sitting Sherman back down on the couch and brushing tears and snot away from the boy's face with his paws. "And nothing will ever change that."

"But it is changing," Sherman said. "I'm going to live with a whole new family!" He gestured to an imaginary family on the other side of the couch.

Mr. Peabody sat beside him and pulled him against his side. "Nothing's permanent, and I will make sure that you are happy, no matter what."

"I'm happy when I'm with you," Sherman said, crying into his fur. "You're my dad."

A social worker drove Sherman to his new home two hours away in the suburbs. Sherman sat quietly in the backseat, playing with the dog whistle he'd been given his first day of school. His eyes were raw and swollen from tears, but he did not want to cry in front of strangers.

The Springs were waiting for him on the lawn, and Sherman wanted nothing but to stay in the car until they went back inside and forgot all about him.

"We're here," Mrs. Ramsey said, helping him gather his two suitcases.

It would take many trips back and forth to collect all of his belongings, so he packed just enough to survive a few days on before he would have to go back and get more.

"Sherman!" Mrs. Spring gave him a quick hug and kiss, which he did not return.

"We've been waiting all day," Mr. Spring added.

"Come see your room!" Alice said, tugging on his hand.

Sherman had never been so scared in his life, and he had been in some scary situations. At dinner, which was not like dinner at home where everything was made from scratch and prepared in a fabulous way. Dinner at the Springs was hotdogs and potato chips with Koolaide for the kids. Mr. Peabody forbid junk food of any kind except cake and ice cream, and that was strictly for special occasions like birthdays. Sherman had eaten a hotdog once at a baseball game (Mr. Peabody insisted it would make him a true 'Yankee') but for dinner?

"So, William," Mr. Spring asked. "Did you show Sherman around your room?"

"He saw it," William said, biting into a chip.

Sherman stared down at his plate. He and William hadn't spoken two words to each other. After dinner, the family watched something on television, and then each went about their business before bed. Nobody read to Sherman, or went over math, or played Chess with him.

Mr. and Mrs. Spring came into the bedroom to bid the boys goodnight, and each gave Sherman a long hug and a kiss.

"We're glad to have you home, Champ," Mr. Spring said.

Sherman stayed tense until their hands were off of him. In the dark, he chewed on his nails and stared up at the ceiling. He thought of his father at home, and wondered if he'd already forgotten about him. The thought brought tears to his eyes and they silently rolled down his cheeks and onto his pillow.

"Are you crying?" William asked.

"No," Sherman lied, sniffling.

"A dog can't be a parent, you know," William said. "They're pets. We used to have one."

Sherman didn't feel comfortable enough to argue with William. He simply tried to ignore him, but William sat up and continued, "He probably already forgot about you."

Sherman wiped at his eyes and said, "Leave me alone."

"Leave you alone?" William jumped off of the the top bunk and stared at his brother on the bottom bunk. "All I've been hearing about since you and your dog messed up New York City was Sherman, Sherman, Sherman! Why don't you leave me alone?"

Sherman rolled over so William could not see his face.

"The grown-ups in this house," William said. "Those are your parents. Mr. Peabody is NOT your dad. He's a dumb old animal."

Those were fighting words to Sherman, and he leapt out of bed so fast, William stumbled backwards. Sherman shoved him into the closet door and said, "He is not dumb, and he is my dad, so there!" He shoved him again, and then stared at him.

William moved away from the closet and climbed back onto his bunk.

"You act just like a dog," he said, rolling over. "You're not any brother of mine."

Sherman crawled back into bed too and cried silently into his pillow. After several hours of just lying awake in the dark, he crept out of bed and picked up his cell phone that was resting on top of his backpack. Quietly, he made his way to the living room and sat down beside the couch. It didn't feel right to sit on it. Nothing in this house felt right to touch.

He called the only number that mattered, and in a matter of seconds, a sleepy, but familiar voice picked up the phone.

"Hello? Peabody…"

"Mr. Peabody?" Sherman whispered.

"Sherman!" His father was awake now.

"Did I wake you up?" Sherman asked, knowing good and well he did.

"No matter," his father said, and Sherman could almost see him waving any negative thoughts away with his hand. "I'm always eager to hear your voice."

"I don't know what to say," Sherman confessed, drawing his knees up and touching each of his bare toes.

"Tell me about your day," Mr. Peabody said, as if they were riding the elevator up to the penthouse.

Sherman told him about the dinner, and how strange the Spring family routine was, and Mr. Peabody told him about how quiet the house was, and how he'd burned the lemon chicken he'd planned for dinner.

"Mr. Peabody," Sherman said. "I miss you."

"I miss you too," Mr. Peabody told him. "But Sherman, you have to give the Springs a chance. They're your family. They love you."

Sherman frowned, thinking about William, who most definitely did not love him. He promised his father to keep trying, and asked, "Can I still call you?"

"Anytime, Sherman," Mr. Peabody said. "Whether it be in the middle of the day, or the middle of the night."

After he hung up, he began to cry, and was startled when a lamp in the living room clicked on.

"Sherman?" It was Mr. and Mrs. Spring.

Sherman wiped at his eyes and stood up, unsure of what to say. He hid his cell phone behind his back, just in case they decided to take it away.

"Honey, why on Earth are you crying?" Mrs. Spring asked. "Alone in the dark?"

Sherman said nothing. He hoped they did not wish to hug him again. Mr. Spring sat on the couch and motioned for the boy to sit beside him. Sherman did not sit.

"Sit down, Son," Mr. Spring coaxed.

Sherman sat.

"We know this is scary," he said. "You haven't seen us since you were a little baby."

He rubbed Sherman's back, and Sherman wriggled away from his touch. Mrs. Spring sat down on his other side and said, "We're very grateful to Mr. Peabody for taking care of you when we couldn't, and we know it's hard to say goodbye to a friend."

Sherman wiped at his eyes again as he lost his battle to tears.

"Mr. Peabody isn't my friend," he said. "He's my Dad."

"I'm your Dad," Mr. Spring said gently, touching his hand. "You don't know me yet, and it will take time to call me 'Dad', I know, but I'm not some ogre, Sherman. I love you."

He rumpled the boy's hair. "I've always loved you."

"You know what?" Mrs. Spring stood up. "Why don't I make us some hot chocolate? Oh, won't that be so fun to drink so late at night?"

"That sounds fantastic!" Mr. Spring agreed, picking Sherman up with just one arm.

It felt strange to Sherman, to be held by another human being. The last time another person held him was before he could remember, and he had gotten too big for Mr. Peabody to hold by his fourth birthday. The three of them made their way into the kitchen, and Mr. Spring sat down in one of the kitchen table chairs and set Sherman on top of the table. Sherman looked down at his 'seat' and then at Mr. Spring who mouthed a gasp, and Sherman couldn't help but smile.

"There's that smile!" Mr. Spring growled, tickling him.

Sherman laughed at being tickled, and then immediately felt guilty laughing when he should be feeling miserable.

Mrs. Spring started hot milk on the stove for Cocoa, and then sat down in the chair next to her husband.

"Mr. Peabody understands," she said, stroking his cheek. "You're not doing him wrong by enjoying yourself, Baby."

Sherman's face fell, and Mr. Spring tickled him again. As they all drank their hot chocolate, Sherman thought about how he had never had hot chocolate, or any kind of chocolate. It was poisonous to Mr. Peabody, so it just wasn't kept in the house.

Of course, they had hot tea, a variety of tea, and Sherman suddenly missed drinking hot tea with honey, curled up on the couch under a quilt as Mr. Peabody read to him. Now here he was, sitting on top of the table like a wild hooligan, drinking something that was poisonous to his father.

"I think I'm going to go to bed," he said in a small voice, putting his mug down. "Thank you for the hot chocolate."

"Goodnight, Son," Mr. Spring said.

To Be Continued…