After several days of not seeing Wily, SpongeBob began to relax a little. He took the blanket off of his bedroom window and felt safe enough to keep his bedroom door unlocked, but he still kept the front door locked tight, even while he was home. He finally got his biweekly paycheck, and he headed for the bank and then went grocery shopping. He filled his cart with necessities then hesitated before he gave in and splurged on one of his favorite snacks, a box of Kelpy Kremes. He had to hand off half of his cashed check toward food then headed home.
As he stepped outside, his heart nearly stopped. Wily was in the parking lot, talking with a few other sponges. They were all laughing. SpongeBob immediately recognized them, and he winced, knowing what was going to happen.
SpongeBob felt like he was going to be sick as he hurried around the corner of the store and carefully set aside the groceries. Then he knelt down and removed his house key and wallet, plucking out a dollar before slipping the items into the bags. Then he hid the grocery sacks and stood up. He had to be convincing. He was just going to the store for a bag of barnacle chips. That's what he was doing.
SpongeBob circled around to come out of the alleyway beside the apartments that were next to the store. He took a deep breath then stepped onto the sidewalk and began whistling as he half-skipped toward the store. 'Barnacle chips. Barnacle chips. Barnacle chips,' he thought as he saw the sponges turn to look at him. They grinned and pointed, getting Wily's attention. Wily turned to look at him, and his expression became unreadable. But after a glance back at the sponges, he called out.
"Hey! SpongeBob!"
SpongeBob wanted to run, but he had to get his food home. He needed food, even if he wasn't currently hungry. So a quick run-in wouldn't be that bad if he could just get Wily to go away. SpongeBob stopped and watched the tall, thin sponge approach.
"Hey, Wily," SpongeBob said weakly. He hated that his voice shook.
"What are you doing this fine day?" Wily asked casually.
"I was going to get some barnacle chips," SpongeBob replied.
"Those sound good. But I'm all out of money," Wily said.
SpongeBob didn't move. He knew what he was supposed to offer, but he really didn't want to give Wily the satisfaction. He wished he could be brave enough to stand up to him. After a moment, Wily leaned forward and reached his hand out to touch SpongeBob's arm. SpongeBob couldn't help it. He flinched back, and he reached into his pocket for the dollar. He held it out, his fingers trembling.
"Ah, I don't need any chips. Go get some."
Wily plucked the dollar out of SpongeBob's hand. "Thanks. I will." He reached out and grabbed SpongeBob's arms as he peered into his eyes. "Have a good day."
SpongeBob whimpered as his arms seemed to catch on fire under Wily's strong fingers. "Y-yeah. Okay. Later."
"It's really good to see you again."
SpongeBob watched as Wily turned to go into the store. For a moment, he'd seen his old friend, and then he recognized that his arms were burning. He came to his senses then bolted for his groceries, scooped them up, and ran wildly toward home. As he came up his walkway, he tripped over his own feet and went sprawling. Groceries rolled out of the bags, and he sat up and stared at the mess. Nothing had broken open, but that didn't stop him from bursting into tears. He cried and cried, sitting in the middle of his groceries in front of his house. Squidward was outside watering some flowers, and he stood up when it was clear that SpongeBob wasn't going to stop. He was about to intervene when he saw Patrick ambling over.
"Hey, buddy. What's wrong?" he asked, standing with his hands in his pockets.
SpongeBob looked up to see Patrick standing there, studying him. "I-I fell down," SpongeBob hiccuped. "And everything is everywhere. And my arms hurt."
"Hm."
Without another word, Patrick reached down and yanked SpongeBob to his feet then gave him the tightest hug he could. SpongeBob gasped then relaxed into the pressure. He liked tight hugs.
"There. All better?" Patrick asked, setting him down.
SpongeBob gave a watery smile then knelt down and began to gather his groceries. Patrick helped, and Squidward watched the starfish walk over to open the door. The hatch didn't budge. Patrick frowned and tried again. No luck.
"Hey, I think your door's stuck," Patrick said.
"Oh! Right! Hang on."
SpongeBob dug into the grocery bag and tugged out his house key. Patrick raised his eyebrows and Squidward frowned. SpongeBob had locked his door? He never locked his door. SpongeBob turned and peered anxiously up and down Conch Street before he unlocked his door.
"Come on in, Patrick," he said. Patrick went in, and SpongeBob looked around again and spotted Squidward. He waved then turned and walked inside, shutting the door behind him. Squidward turned back to his flowers, a bit uneasy. After trying to go back to his task, he gave up and threw down his tools before going over to knock on his neighbor's door. There was a pause then a screech from inside the house.
"No, Patrick!"
SpongeBob sounded utterly terrified and there was a huge crash! Squidward, alarmed by the tone, jerked at the hatch. It was locked again. He pounded on the door, frightened by the silence. "SpongeBob! Open up!"
There was a pause then the door opened. Patrick stood there, but he wasn't looking at Squidward. He was staring at SpongeBob, who sat at the bottom of the stairs, looking dazed and terrified as he stared at the door. When he saw Squidward, he didn't so much as relax as he went completely limp and shivered.
"What happened?"
"SpongeBob fell down the stairs," Patrick said. He let Squidward in then ambled over to pick SpongeBob up and carry him to the couch. Squidward noticed that the house seemed a little disorganized. He shut the door, and before his tentacle left the door, SpongeBob spoke.
"Lock the door."
Squidward and Patrick both stared at him before the octopus turned around and locked the door. SpongeBob relaxed into the sofa and rolled his shoulders. Squidward noticed some discoloration below SpongeBob's shirt sleeves, the yellow flesh a bit pale. But he didn't say anything. He could be mistaken. It was a bit dark, and Patrick looked around and frowned.
"Let's get some light in here."
He walked over to the porthole and yanked the blanket down. SpongeBob said nothing, but he looked stressed.
"That's better."
SpongeBob licked his lips. "Yeah," he said weakly.
Patrick blithely went back into the kitchen and began to put away the groceries. But Squidward could tell something was wrong. He stood just inside the front door and studied SpongeBob. The sponge glanced up at him and rubbed his arms where the discoloration was.
"What have you been doing today, Squidward?" SpongeBob asked.
"I was gardening," Squidward said sourly.
"Well, your flowers are looking really pretty," SpongeBob said. "You have the best garden on the street."
Squidward was pleased, but he scoffed to hide it. "Whatever. The seaworms are nibbling on them."
"Try vinegar," SpongeBob said.
"Vinegar?" Squidward asked. "
"Mix it with the same amount of water and spray them," SpongeBob said.
"That could never work," Squidward muttered.
"Just try it, Squid. I know it'll work."
"How?"
SpongeBob shrugged. "I like vinegar." He rubbed his arms again.
"What happened?"
SpongeBob flushed and looked away, but he didn't answer. He began picking at his pants, not meeting Squidward's eyes. Squidward walked over and plopped down beside him. He didn't know what to say into the uncomfortable silence. He'd never been so good with these sorts of things, and he didn't want to pry too hard. SpongeBob leaned his head on Squidward's shoulder.
"Did you ever go to the hospital when you were a kid?"
Squidward glanced at his neighbor, but he decided to answer. "Yeah. I nearly cut my tentacle off when I was playing in the kitchen. Mama was frantic. I lost so much blood that I had to stay for several days."
"They have bad food," SpongeBob sighed.
Squidward's lips twitched. "And the nurses taking your blood every day is terrible."
SpongeBob giggled. "And they say it won't hurt and then it does."
"They don't tell you about pain. They tell you about pressure," Squidward said. "If they say you'll feel pressure, it's gonna hurt."
"And the needles are cold."
"And the blankets are too thin."
"And the restraints are too tight."
Squidward paused. "Restraints?"
"Yeah. I've been purged before. They have to tie you down. It really hurts." SpongeBob frowned and scrubbed his eyes to wipe away the tears. "Guess you've never had to have that done. Wouldn't make sense. You're not a sponge."
Patrick came out of the kitchen, munching on a small bag of barnacle chips. "Hey, I found your wallet in the grocery bags."
SpongeBob blushed as Squidward stared hard at him. "Ah, thanks, Pat. I'll take that."
"What have you been doing today, SpongeBob?" Squidward asked.
SpongeBob hesitated, his eyes flicking away. "Oh, well I got up and fed Gary and took a shower. Then I went to the bank and cashed my check and went to the store. Then I came home."
"Uh huh. Anything else?"
"Nope."
"Run into anybody?"
SpongeBob worried his bottom lip. "Ah, well I saw Mrs. Puff getting a kelpiccino. And I said hi to old man Jenkins."
Squidward dropped all pretenses. "Did you see Wily?"
A dark flush rose up SpongeBob's cheeks and he kicked his feet nervously. After a minute, he nodded.
"Yeah. I did. He was going in to get barnacle chips."
"Did he say anything to you?"
"He needed a dollar."
"And you gave it to him?"
SpongeBob sat up and began to wring his hands together. Then he rubbed his arms again. Squidward could tell there was definitely some discoloration. "It was the nice thing to do."
Patrick tossed the chip bag onto a table and flopped back into SpongeBob's armchair. "Who's Wily?"
SpongeBob glanced over. "He and I grew up together in Spongetown."
Patrick's eyes lit up. "Oh wow! I can't wait to meet your friend!"
"No!"
The word exploded from SpongeBob's mouth like a harpoon fired from a gun. Patrick blinked at him, and Squidward jumped and fell off the couch. SpongeBob looked absolutely wild for a moment then he stood up and began pacing, gasping in short little breaths.
"What's wrong, buddy?" Patrick asked. "Do you need your blanket?"
SpongeBob didn't answer, still pacing and gasping. Every exhale was a small whimper. Patrick heaved himself up and walked over to a closet. He reached into a chest and pulled out a strange blanket. It seemed thicker than a normal blanket, and it seemed to have quite a bit of weight as Patrick hefted it up and walked over to SpongeBob.
"Sit down in your chair," Patrick ordered.
SpongeBob obeyed, and Patrick draped the blanket over his friend's shoulders. SpongeBob's pliable form was depressed by the weighted blanket, and he sighed and hugged it.
"Sorry," he said quietly. "It's just… we're not exactly friends…?" His face pinched, and he looked unsure.
"Oh." Patrick looked puzzled. Spongebob made friends with everybody. "Well that's okay. It was real nice of you to give him a dollar for some chips."
Squidward could see that SpongeBob was tired, so he stood up. "Well, I'm going to get back to gardening."
SpongeBob smiled slightly. "Try the vinegar mixture. It'll keep the sea worms away from your flowers."
Squidward shrugged and walked to the door. "Whatever. Bye."
Squidward stepped outside and pulled the hatch closed behind him. He was about to walk away but paused. There was the clunk of the lock being engaged a few moments later. Squidward frowned and headed for his garden. Later, after he saw Patrick leave, Squidward looked out his window to see SpongeBob standing at his porthole window, watching Patrick until he was home. Then he reached up and covered the porthole with a blanket.
As he sat and ate his dinner, Squidward thought about SpongeBob. He'd been skittish ever since he'd first seen Wily. And now he was locking his door and covering his windows. If that didn't point to Wily being trouble, then the fact that SpongeBob had "given" him a dollar for chips did. The way SpongeBob acted when telling that story, the evasive way he'd skirted around admitting he'd seen Wily, and the way he'd firmly asserted that he wasn't friends with the red sponge proved to Squidward that Wily's relationship to SpongeBob wasn't entirely friendly. But how far would Wily go? Squidward thought of the discoloration on SpongeBob's arms, and he went cold. Then he shook his head. How would Wily even do that? Besides, SpongeBob could take any number of hits. He was a sponge after all.
But as he lay in bed that night, Squidward couldn't help but think that if anybody knew how to injure a sponge, it was another sponge. And that scared him.
