Chapter 3
Emma sat outside her dance class, having been ordered to wait for her brother to come and walk her home. She had changed, feeling discouraged about missing dance once again because of fighting.
She heard laughter as all the other girls ran outside to go home and play. As much as she hated having to apologize, she had been taught that it was always a friendly thing to do. Feeling courage come back into her spirit, she got up and walked up to talk to the girls.
"You think this looks infected guys?" Taffeta complained as she examined the tiny bite marks on her arms, "Yuck if it is, please tell the world to stay away from that-"
"Hi." Emma said quickly from behind them. They all turned nervously and glared at her like she was a filthy bug.
"What do you want?" Taffeta snapped.
"I just…I wanted to apologize for hitting you…and biting you." Emma tried, looking Taffeta in the eyes.
"Apology sooo not accepted." Taffeta spat as she flipped her hair, "You're such a freak. Let's go."
"Wait!" Emma called, hoping to make some headway, "Are you guys going to play dolls?" she asked, noticing a couple of girls holding Barbie's.
"No…" one girl muttered quickly, hiding it.
"Yeah!" Taffeta spat again, coming forward, "But you aren't allowed to come."
Emma frowned but kept trying, taking something out of her bag. The girls squealed when she showed them a very oddly misshapen doll she'd made, "This is Vanellope." She smiled, "I made her myself. She has her black hair in a ponytail today and I was able to give her a teal jacket to wear. She loves candy and racing, but she's sad because sometimes she feels lone-"
She stopped when she looked up and noticed that all of the girls had disappeared, leaving her alone in the clearing.
Feeling angry at herself, Emma slammed down her homemade doll, but felt bad that she'd just hurt her only friend, so she picked up Vanellope quickly and hugged her tight, apologizing. When all is said and done, her only friend was in fact, her doll.
Sure the doll had mismatched arms and legs, a crazy head of black hair, and patches of fabric, but she'd made her out of love, hoping to find doll friends for Vanellope too. In the end, it seemed, they were both freaks.
Feeling defeated and angry, she headed for home.
….
Jack got to the studio and swore to himself angrily. Feeling like a chicken without a head he spun around, hoping that maybe she was hiding in the woods or something but knew he didn't have time for this. Taking another breath, he ran back home as fast as he could, praying the whole time she was there.
"Emma!" he called as he ran, hoping that maybe he'd catch her on the way home, "You better be home…" he muttered angrily, glad to see his house coming up and no strange car in the drive.
He got to the door, hoping to open it, when he bounced back forcefully into the garden he'd watered earlier and covering himself in mud.
"You have got to be kidding me!" he roared, getting up.
He suddenly heard the sound of Elvis coming from the living room. He quickly ran around to the back door to get in through there, only to find that door had also been locked. And of course he knew himself he kept all the windows locked because it was a rule whenever social workers came.
"EMMA!" he yelled, banging on the door and running back to the front, "Emma!"
He found the doggie door he'd been trying to nail shut and squeezed his head in the opening, "Emma!" he called again, feeling angry yet relieved to see her lying on the floor with her boombox playing her Elvis tapes.
"Emma please!" he pleaded, "Let me in, okay?"
"Leave me alone to die." She mumbled.
"Emma, we seriously don't have time for this!" he yelled angrily, hoping to squeeze through, "The social worker's coming, please! Let me in."
She merely gave him a somber look and turned her radio up, 'Heartbreak Hotel' blasting in his ears.
He groaned and looked around, finding the hammer he'd been using and decided to unhinge the nails from the board he was trying to use to cover up the bottom of the door. He'd been hearing stories of critters running around so he didn't want something in the house he'd have to battle and cover up to the social workers that came.
He began mumbling angrily, watching as his sister stared at the ceiling and mouthed the words to the gloomy song.
"I swear to whoever is listening, I'm gonna get in there…" he grumbled angrily and giving her threatening looks as he tried getting in, "And when I do, I'm shoving you in that oven and I'm gonna cook you till you're nice and crispy!" he hissed, "And when that muttonhead social worker gets here I'm gonna make sure he eats you!" he kept muttering, actually laughing out of hysteria, "And I'm not gonna feel sorry one bit you horrible little-"
He felt a tug on the back of his shirt and he froze, turning red as he crawled out quickly and looked up to see a big black man in a suit, wearing sunglasses.
"Darling…" he finished, practically squeaking in fear. He got up quickly, hoping his rather huge smile helped his situation at all, "Beautiful, wonderful, sweet, and loving little sister…" he finished as he threw the hammer behind him quickly.
The guy staring at him said nothing.
"Ahem…" Jack said, clearing his throat, then held out his head, "You must be the-"
"Muttonhead." The man growled.
"Oh…right…" Jack mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck and feeling the dried mud from earlier. He looked down and realized to his dismay that he was covered in mud and in a very bad position, "You must have heard that stupid little…yeah…" he tried chuckling only to find it made his situation worse.
"You the guardian in question?" the man said, ignoring Jack.
"Yes." Jack said, straightening up, "I'm Jack Overland, it's nice to meet you Mr…"
"Bubbles."
"B-Bubbles?" Jack gasped, trying his hardest not to laugh. If there was one huge weakness he had it was laughing at almost anything deemed ridiculous for no reason.
"Yes, I know." The man muttered, looking annoyed.
Jack bit his lip and finally managed, "Did you find the place alright?" he asked, hoping to make some nice small talk.
"Got some bad directions. Had to turn around." Mr. Bubbles commented, still looking annoyed, "Are you going to let me in now, Jack?"
"Uh…" Jack mumbled, looking around, still rubbing the back of his neck, "One second!" he said, "Don't go anywhere, just stay right here!" he said loudly, hoping his smile was genuine as he ran around the corner.
Mr. Bubbles stared at the door, but the distinct sounds of kicking and glass breaking from around the other side of the house were evident. He heard frantic running from inside and there stood Jack, still looking disheveled and messy and just as panicked as before.
"Come on in to our humble home!" he panted.
Mr. Bubbles walked in and took out a pad of paper and a pen. He began writing little observations and Jack was trying to secretly hide loose nails and tools lying by the door.
Emma had apparently disappeared and that made Jack even more frantic.
"I see you're boarding up the hole on the door." Mr. Bubbles commented.
"Yes, it used to be a dog door but with all the critters running around I kinda wanted to-"
"Odd that you'd be taking nails out on the outside of the house. Counterproductive, wouldn't you say?"
Jack swallowed and nodded, "Yeah…I'm a pretty bad home repairs kinda guy." He laughed awkwardly.
"Obviously." Mr. Bubbles mumbled, jotting more notes down, "Can I see the kitchen?"
"Right!" Jack said, "Right this way, can I get you some coffee or-"
"Is there a reason smoke is coming from the stove?"
"Wha-" Jack turned, "WHOA!" he yelped, grabbing a towel and then turning off the stove. In all the chaos he'd completely left it on, "Don't worry, it's coming along nicely and deliciously-AAAH!" he yelled when steam and frying grease hit his arm.
He chuckled and turned around, his face red.
Thank God Emma finally came in, looking solemn and annoyed.
"Emma!" Jack cheered, "There you are sweetie. This is Mr... "Bubbles"." Jack told her.
Mr. Bubbles knelt down, "Nice to meet you, Emma."
Emma looked down as he held out his hand, "Your knuckles say "cobra"... "Cobra Bubbles"... you don't... look like a social worker." She commented curiously.
"I'm a special classification." He told her.
"Did you ever kill anyone?" she asked, cocking her head to the side nervously.
"We're getting off the subject." He interjected, "Let's talk about you. Are you... happy?"
"I'm adjusted." She sighed, then saw Jack behind Cobra Bubbles signing the usual spiel he'd taught her, smiling and hoping she got it right, "I eat all four food groups, and look both ways before crossing the street... and take long naps...and…" she said in a monotone voice.
Jack did a fist pump to himself happily to show her he was proud of her until…
"Disciplined?" she asked, looking at Jack.
"Disciplined?" Mr. Bubbles repeated tersely.
Emma smiled at him, "Yeah, he disciplines me real good!"
Jack immediately held out his hand in a frenzy, hoping to get her to shut up.
"Sometimes five times a day!" she grinned mischievously, "With bricks!"
"Bricks?" Mr. Bubbles repeated.
"Uh huh," Emma confirmed, "in a pillow case too."
"Okay!" Jack yelled, intervening before his situation got out of hand, not that it hadn't already, "That's enough sugar for you cutie patootie!" he said, ushering her out quickly, then turned to Mr. Bubbles, "Boy I tell you why I give that girl so many sweets before Halloween is beyond me! The other social workers thought she was just a scream!" he laughed nervously, "Thirsty?" he asked meekly.
Mr. Bubbles did not look pleased as he advanced on Jack, "Let me illuminate to you the precarious situation in which you have found yourself. I am the one they call when things go wrong, and things have indeed gone wrong."
Jack gulped the large lump in his throat and let Mr. Bubbles pass him to go see Emma who had somehow gotten her hands on a Voodoo Doll book and had already made oddly shaped dolls with hair and began stuffing them in the pickle jar he'd kept in the fridge. She shook the bottle viciously with the dolls in it and Jack wanted to die on the spot.
"My friends need to be punished." She told the social worker in a gloomy voice.
Jack glared at her angrily from behind the very big, very scary, and very unhappy social worker. She was going to be in soooo much trouble when this guy left.
He walked to the door with the man who turned around quickly, "I'll be in touch." He threatened as he walked to his car.
Jack merely smiled and waved before he closed the door. He waited until he heard the engine starting and the car leaving before he turned around sharply to give his sister the deadliest look on the planet.
It obviously struck fear into her heart as she stood in the middle of the room and screamed at the top of her lungs before running away.
Jack lunged at her, dropping to the floor in his attempt. He got up and crossed his arms, waiting for a sound to give her position away. There were only a few places he knew she hid in the house, but he wasn't in the mood to go on a wild goose chase. He just wasn't in the mood period.
He heard the laundry room door and nodded, walking that way quickly. He got to the room and grabbed a towel, putting it on the floor in front of the dryer. He then crawled stealthily onto the dryer and after many years of practice, used his foot to open and shut the door to the other room to make it seem like he'd walked past.
It worked as the dryer opened. He crouched, waiting as she climbed onto the towel nervously, looking around to see if he was coming back into the room. He crawled around her silently.
"Hiya!" he yelled as he advanced and scooped the edges of the towel around her, trapping her as he carried her like a sack of flour to the living room.
She muttered and struggled in the towel only to be tossed down on the floor.
She broke free, but he was quicker as he grabbed her arm. She refused to meet his gaze angrily as he laid into her.
"Why didn't you wait at school? You were supposed to wait there!" he roared angrily. She struggled but he held on tightly to her arm, "And what is wrong with you?! Voodoo dolls?!" he continued, "Do you not understand what's happening? Do you actually want to be taken away?" he asked her angrily. When she continued struggling and said nothing his voice lowered dangerously, "Answer me!" he threatened.
"No!" she screamed.
"No, you don't understand?" he asked for clarification.
"NO!"
"No you don't want to be taken away?" he asked again.
"NO!"
"No, what?" he cried exasperatedly.
"NOOOOO!" she screamed before throwing herself to the ground dramatically.
He let her arm go with a flop to the ground and leaned down to hear her mumbling something, but he couldn't understand her. Giving up, he leaned back into the couch and held his temples in frustration, "God you are such a PAIN." He hissed.
She heard him and got up angrily, "So why don't you just sell me and get a rabbit instead?"
"You know what, a rabbit would behave so much better than you!" he yelled as she walked up the stairs to her room.
"Good! Then you'll be happy, cause it'll be smarter than me too!" she yelled back at him.
"AAAANNNDDD QUIETER!" he roared.
"And you'll like it cause it'll be stinky! LIKE YOU!" she screamed, slamming her door loudly.
"GAH! GO TO YOUR ROOOOOOOOOM!" he yelled hoarsely from the bottom of the stairs.
She opened the door just then to yell back, "I'M ALREADY IN MY ROOM YOU MORON!"
As the door slammed he threw himself on the couch and yelled one final time into the cushions, his body convulsing angrily. Meanwhile Emma had made it to her room and was screaming into her own pillow before collapsing back onto the bed.