Sorry I haven't been updating. I'm trying to rotate between this, my fanfic "Origin," and my Fictionpress story "It."

Chapter 4: Guidance

For my next period, I had study hall, still in the cafeteria. I tossed out my garbage, put my tray on the table near the kitchen (where the lunch ladies get them and wash them), and sat back down. I reached into my back pack, which was on the floor next to me, and pulled out the math worksheet I had to complete for homework.

Only, I couldn't concentrate. I was still thinking about my father, and Julien and Mort weren't much help at all (I know Julien had ADHD, but he still wasn't any brighter than Mort, who wasn't all that smart). I tried to work on my fractions, and soon found that Marlene was taking a seat next to me-she was in study hall, with me.

I gave her a forced smile, and she gave me a knowing look. "Skipper told me about your father," she said gently. "I'm really sorry."

I shrugged, not meeting her gaze. "It's nothing..." I said, not wanting her to worry.

I heard Marlene facepalm, and I looked up at her. "Private," she said, "you should tell the guidance counselor, or a teacher, or someone."

"You know about it."

"Yes," Marlene rolled her eyes, "but I also know that there are plenty of grown-ups in Manhattan who could help you and Skipper."

The next morning, at school, Skipper and I went to visit the guidance counselor, like Marlene suggested (though Skipper was reluctant to do so). His name was Mr. Hobstin, but he prefered us all everyone to call him by his first name.

"Maurice?" I called, opening the door to the guidance office. "Are you here?"

"Come on in, fellas," he told us. We came into his office and he gestured to some chairs. "Have a seat." We sat down.

Maurice was a somewhat "larger" black man. He had short black hair and dark brown eyes. Everyone liked him, because he was always really friendly and smart. He always did what he could to solve your problems, no matter how complicated or bizarre.

Maurice sat in a bigger chair in front of us (he didn't have a desk) and smiled. "How may I help you?"

"I'll have a cheeseburger, small fries, and a large root beer," Skipper said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. I glared at him and he shrugged. "What? Phrasing the question like makes the man sound like the drive through window at McDonald's."

I facepalmed, but Maurice chuckled and rolled his eyes. "You make a good point there, Skipper." Maurice knew the names-and nicknames-of just about everyone in the school. "Anyway, you boys need somethin'?"

Skipper explained what was going on, starting with our mother's passing, and finishing with the scar on his cheek that was courtesy of our father. "So, that's why we came to you," he finished.

Maurice nodded. "First, I'm terribly sorry for the loss of your mother."

"Thank you," I said, quietly and solemnly. Skipper put his arm around me.

Maurice continued. "Second, this kind of thing is very common. When a person loses someone he loves, he'll be willin' to do just about anything to make the pain go away."

"But doesn't Dad understand how much this hurts us?" I asked, fighting the erdge to cry.

"Well, when a man's drunk, he doesn't have control over his actions. When he's sober-as in, not drunk- try talkin' to him. See if you can convince him to go into rehab to help with his addiction. If that doesn't work, come back, and we'll see what we can do."

"Thanks," Skipper said. He stood up. "Come on, Private."

I stood up, too. I said goodbye to Maurice, he said goodbye, as well, and we left.

I threw myself into my brother's arms, tears streaming down my cheeks. How could this have happened? I thought.

Skipper held me tight and sighed. "What did he do, now?" he asked calmly.

*thinking of something creative to type* I got nothin'. Please review!