Tough
Freddie Benson was home, finally. It had been months since he had left for The Seattle Institute of Reformed Boys.
Lying on his bed, he took in its familiar scent and tried to remember the last time he could remember feeling so comfortable.
….
His memory came up blank. Staring around his room, he realized that, though he recognized everything, it was also very alien to him. Yes, his posters for ICarly, Big Time Rush and Galaxy Wars were the same as when he had left at the beginning of the summer semester, but they were foreign to him. He felt… displacement. This was his room, but this was not him anymore.
The Freddie that was had been replaced by The Good Wolf.
He set down his trunk and straightened up. Though he had been taught by his mother to keep his room in order, his militarized mind recognized how pointless it was to have toys. After packing them away carefully, the 'Good Wolf' steeled himself. Life was tough, so he had to be tougher.
At the very end of the winter semester at his old school, Mrs. Benson had caught her son with Carly. Somehow, she knew he was in love. After years of trying to protect her son for all perceived threats, Marissa Benson recognized that Freddie was deeply in love with Carly Shay.
As a mother, this terrified her, so she lashed out.
A huge fight broke out. He was screaming things he did not mean at her, and she was doing the same with him. Heartbroken, she called up The Seattle Institute for Reformed Boys. The people on the phone were very friendly, assuring her that they could fix whatever was wrong with her son. Mrs. Benson hastily agreed to send him away for the summer figuring she would have her little boy back soon enough.
She could not be more wrong.
Yes, the Institute had managed to fix the problem; Freddie no longer displayed any signs of infatuation at all. However he had been militarized; taught to ignore all feeling, and do as he was ordered.
The boy laid his coat, an important possession for any of his fellow students, on the bed. That coat was a life line back at the Institute. He never let it out of his sight. Boys at the Institute were responsible for their coats; they were to be present, cleaned, and in excellent condition. Any discernible inconsistency was dealt with harshly. Demerits were handed out for even a speck of dirt at inspection time. Coats were protection and warmth during midnight drills. And they were badges of honor too. To lose it meant shame and demerits.
And demerits lead to horrible punishments. Freddie shuddered as he remembered his, 'breaking point.' Everyone had it; a mental limit to their toughness, a point when the psyche gives up and breaks down.
He ran and ran and ran in the midnight rain. The Big Bad Wolf was chasing him. The Big Bad Wolf claimed he was helping, claimed this was the way to get stronger.
Freddie neither knew nor cared. He hunched over and lost his lunch, again. The obstacle course was dead tonight. The lights on the field illuminated the ominous hurdles he had to climb over.
There was only one thing he actually cared about; a single ribbon, clutched in his right hand. The smell of her shampoo was long gone. The color was overridden by mud and blood; but none of that mattered; he still had a piece of her with him. Carly Shay-goddess, idol, the only girl he had ever loved, the only one who meant anything to him anymore.
The Big Bad Wolf pushed him over. The ribbon started slipping as the wolf pounded his foot into Freddie's side, "Why are you so weak?"
He was so angry. The boy went into a fetal position and sobbed. Finally, he was pulled to his knees, "You have to go over these obstacles another ten times before bed. Now, you have to shed whatever it is that's holding you back."
The ribbon started slipping. Freddie tried to stop it from going, but he was too weak, too exhausted to move his fingers. The cold from the rainwater numbed him.
"You know Freddie, you have no hate. Of all the dogs I've trained, you're the first one not to contain that emotional weakness; you're like a good wolf."
Freddie remembered his. But that did not matter anymore. He knew it did not matter anymore because he was stronger now, he was tough.
The people around him would not be pleased. He was no longer the weak-kneed, self-deprecating, good-natured boy that they remembered. No doubt some of them would be disappointed, or angry that he was different now, tough.
This was him. This was who he was now, what he was.
Tough.
Chapter Two: A Party for Freddie
"Sam!" Carly shouted. "Sam!"
Sam begrudgingly trudged down the stairs. Her hair was a mess, and her pajamas were wrinkled, "What?"
Carly shook her head and pushed the blond to the door, "Go get Freddie! It's almost time for his welcome back party."
Sam groaned, "I don't want to go into a deep, dork hole!"
She whined until Carly relented and opted to go get their friend herself. Knocking on the Benson's door, she realized Freddie had not her in months. Absently, the brunette straightened her hair, and brushed down her skirt. The theme of the party was "fairy tales." Carly had decided to go as Little Red Riding Hood. She had decided this partially because she had the hood, but also due to her not wanting to be thought of as a princess.
Sam decided to come as a wicked witch, more out of a desire to act inappropriate. No doubt she was preparing pranks. Carly shook her head ruefully. She had heard that Freddie had a hard time at… that place.
No information came in or out of the institute. Throughout the summer break Carly had tried to contact Freddie, or get some kind of idea of what was happening to her friend. But there was just no way to know anything. Mrs. Benson refused to share whatever scant information she had. It had only been a few months, so surely Freddie would want to see his friends, right- right?
Right?
The door to the Benson's apartment was unlocked. Well, that was unusual. Carly entered, but felt a chill run down her spine. The whole place was quiet and dark. The apartment creaked and groaned. She found herself on the stairs before asking herself an important question; if Freddie was home, why was the whole place dark? He was supposed to be home now, but… anyone could be in here. She shivered.
A sound from Freddie's room alarmed Carly. She reached for the door tentatively. It creaked open ever so slowly…
It was dark inside; she thought she may have been imagining it. She shut the door behind her and sat on Freddie's bed. Carly had not been welcome here in some time. The room was emptier than she remembered. Her pictures (Freddie had several) had all been turned down. Moving from the bed back to the door, she wondered aloud, "Freddie, when are you going to come back to me?"
"I'm right here."
Carly jumped and let out a scream.
"Freddie!"
They were feet apart, and she hadn't even realized it.
"Why aren't the lights on?"
He shrugged. They stood in uncomfortable silence.
"So… welcome back!" She rushed forward to hug him, but he threw his hands up in defense. She stopped. "Oh... sorry…"
He shrugged again. She sighed. Why did boys have to be so much trouble? He said nothing at all, just stared. Suddenly she felt very, very uncomfortable.
"Freddie, listen, we're throwing a party for you," She held out a hand slowly this time, "C'mon… it'll be fun."
He looked afraid. Like she would hurt him, "Freddie, please… for me?"
Slowly, ever so slowly, his hand grasped hers. She pulled him towards the door, but felt him stop to get something.
Freddie put his jacket on. He may have returned to the Bushwell Plaza, but he was still the Good Wolf.