A/N: Well, here's the long-awaited next chapter! Hope it's up to par. I actually found that I enjoy writing for Brett and Chet, considering that there wasn't much screen time for them in the movie and I could pretty much make up their personalities. In any case, they might be a bit OOC depending on how you interpreted their film behaviour, but I always thought they'd be a bit smarter than they look. Anyhow, read, review and enjoy!
I sighed in exasperation. I really couldn't help it at this point. The lady with the dead animal around her neck disgusted me, I'll admit. She just stood there dumbly for a minute as I waited for a more elaborate answer than the indecisive "what" she'd thrown at me moments before. A strange noise made its presence known from the back of the room, where one of the terrible twins elbowed the other in the side to keep him quiet.
"Sick?" the woman asked. I turned my gaze back to the freaky lady. "Yes, sick." I answered.
"Humans get sick all the time, you furry little meatloaf!" I cringed at the nickname. I didn't care if the Once-ler said it, but it sounded alien and kind of evil coming from anyone else's mouth. "He'll get over it!"
I couldn't say that this information was very comforting. Beanpole had already told me the exact same thing, and I was starting to get suspicious that he'd had that notion drilled into his head by his mother. He was definitely not okay, and from what I'd seen so far, he wasn't going to get better any time soon.
I shook my head in answer to the woman's explanation. She stared at me like I was just another dumb animal that needed a scolding.
"Lady," I said, "he's not gonna get over it without some help, he's got... uhhh..." I hesitated as I tried to remember the word. "Larni... laring... lagintitis...? No, that's not it..." I muttered. The woman was glaring at me as she waited for an answer.
"Laryngitis?" I looked up in surprise at the small voice that answered. One of the twins was looking at me expectantly and the other was curiously doing the same.
"Yeah, yeah that's the word." The twins glanced at each other. By now my focus was entirely on them.
"Momma?" the one on the right asked hesitantly. Their mother glared at him. "Uh, maybe we should..."
"No, he can take care of himself. An' who's saying that this orange thing's to be trusted? We don't even know what he is. Now go on back up to your rooms like good boys." And she waved them off. Great, I thought I'd been making some headway. The kid on the left began to walk slowly upwards, but the one who'd spoken remained where he was.
"Chet, you get on up there this instant!" the lady hollered. I'm a bit ashamed to reveal this outburst made me jump a bit. Chet didn't flinch; he just walked calmly up the stairs – he must've been used to that sort of thing. He looked back at me before he was completely out of sight, and I mouthed "out the window" to him. He gave the slightest nod.
I looked back at his mother. She was not happy. I laughed nervously, backing towards the door slowly as she took a step forward. I didn't count on being unable to reach the handle. I smiled weakly, facing the dangerously quiet lady as I leaned hard against the door. I was in for it.
Then the impossible happened. The door gave way completely, and I tumbled backwards as it swung open. To my complete and utter surprise, it closed again the second I was outside and I was suddenly snatched up by the scruff to be carried around the corner of the house and out behind the tool shed, a hand over my mouth the entire way. What the heck was happening? I could honestly say that this wasn't on my nightly agenda. I was released to fall to the ground, and I staggered back to my feet immediately, ready to really chew out the guy who did that. I stopped. The Chet kid was leaning against the back of the tool shed beside me. Thinking about it, I realized that he did kind of save me from his mother's wrath, so I let my discomfort at being carried like that pass. I waited in silence for him to say something, but he seemed to be listening for something else instead. A few minutes later, I heard footsteps approaching our current position. Chet pushed himself from his place against the tool shed and wandered around the corner and out of sight. I was about to follow when he came back, walking alongside his twin brother. His brother was carrying a sort of knapsack over his shoulder. They stopped in front of me expectantly, and I nodded in acknowledgement of their help, before motioning for them to follow.
All three of us were quiet until we were well away from the farmhouse. I especially was not keen on alerting their mother to our current position in the darkness as we walked. Who knows what would happen if she found us? Even by the time the sun began to peek its weary face over the horizon, we remained silent. Whether this was still from fear of being followed or just because we really couldn't think of anything to say, I wasn't quite sure. Our journey would've been a lot quicker had we been able to go back the same way I had come – by Swomee-Swan – but the swans wouldn't have been able to lift my two travelling companions. They occasionally swapped the backpack between each other without a word, and I realized that living with a mother like that, they'd have to have a pretty developed brotherly dynamic just to keep them somewhat sane.
We walked on as the day continued, coming across a Truffula tree or two. Then for the first time since we'd started, one of them spoke.
"What're those?" Chet's brother asked. I had yet to figure out his name.
"Truffula trees," I answered proudly.
"Oh." They continued to admire them as we walked by.
"How bad is it?" Chet asked. Though he didn't specify, I knew exactly what he was talking about.
"He was pretty well out of it when I left yesterday," I said in return. Chet and his brother shared a look.
"Why didn't you ask for help earlier?" Chet's brother asked. I opened my mouth to answer before I realized that I really didn't have one.