As Far as the Sky, part 3

[tamcranver]

Part 1
Part 2




Mikey had the dream again. It never made much sense, just random flashes of grainy images, like old movies, but they were enough to scare him. He and Gerard were little kids, floating in an endless black ocean. It was cold, so cold Mikey couldn’t feel his arms or legs, and someone was talking to him in another language. He didn’t understand what the man was saying, but the words sounded vaguely familiar. His starcase was resting on the piece of driftwood they were clinging to.

And then they were in a field—not any of the fields at the Home, but a different field, one Mikey didn’t know, and somebody was chasing them. And the somebody had guns, and no matter how far or how fast they ran, in the end the only way out was back into the water, and Mikey couldn’t hold on, he was sinking—

“Hey.” It was Gerard, poking him in the shoulder. “Mikey, wake up.”

Mikey sat up and just breathed in and out for a moment. He was in his and Gerard’s room, and even though he’d kicked off the covers, it was so hot he was sweating. He reached out with his mind for Gerard, for that something that made him and Gerard different from everybody else. Finding it was like hugging Mama or running his fingers over his starcase. It felt like home.

“You were having a nightmare,” Gerard whispered. “I was sort of getting a little bit of it. The ocean and stuff. You okay?”

Mikey nodded, and reached out for his brother. Gerard felt solid and warm, a million miles away from the dark ocean, and Mikey felt his heartbeat slow down again. He could sense Gerard’s curiosity poking at his mind, so he said, I think it was something that happened when we were little, before Mama adopted us.

“Oh,” said Gerard, more of a sigh than a word. He shivered, sending a chill through Mikey, too. “Were we…in a boat accident or something? I don’t remember.”

Mikey shrugged. Maybe he remembered more than Gerard did, but the weird flashes he got didn’t make much more sense to him. I guess, he said. He thought of the strange but familiar language the man in the ocean had spoken to him, and he added, Maybe the boat was from another country.

“What, you think we’re like illegal immigrants or something?” Mikey could already see the picture in Gerard’s mind—them sailing over from Cuba or something on a motorboat—but it wasn’t anything like the feeling he’d gotten from the dream. Still, there was something about the idea that…well, it didn’t seem completely wrong, anyway. He shrugged again.

They sat there for a long moment, Mikey still leaning against Gerard’s chest, listening to the steady in-and-out flow of his breath. “Hey,” said Gerard finally, “you wanna see what I was drawing?”

You were drawing? Mikey asked. It had to be, like, three in the morning or something. Super late, anyway.

Gerard gave him a crooked smile that looked more like a wince. “Couldn’t sleep,” he said. He floated his sketchpad and Mikey’s glasses over from the dresser, and the sketchpad landed with a quiet thump onto the pillow as the glasses fell into Mikey’s lap. Gerard pulled away from Mikey to grab the pad and flipped through it, muttering to himself while Mikey put on his glasses and peered over his brother’s shoulder. A lot of the drawings were characters for the comic book they were writing; some of them were of Mikey and Frank and the other kids at the Home. A few of them were of Mama. At last, he flipped to the most recent picture.

Mikey squinted at it for a minute. The moonlight falling on his bunk was pretty bright, but it took a little while for his eyes to adjust enough to take in all of the unfamiliar image. It was a house—a big one, too, like a mansion. A man he didn’t recognize, short, with dark hair and a lot of tattoos, was standing in the doorway.

Where’s this? he asked.

“It’s where that guy lives, the one whose car got wrecked.” He pointed to the man in the doorway and said, “I’m not sure who that guy is, but I think it’s the car guy’s boss.”

Mikey didn’t ask how Gerard knew all this; the same way that Mikey sometimes knew how people were feeling or what was going to happen, Gerard sometimes could draw people he’d never met or places he’d never seen. Instead, he asked, What’d you draw it for?

Gerard made a face. “I don’t know. I think we’re going to go there. I think maybe that’s what your bad feeling was about earlier.”

Mikey looked again at the mansion. It looked really cool, actually, but there was a twinge in his stomach that made him feel a little sick as he studied it. Yeah, he said. There wasn’t anything else to say, because there wasn’t anything they could do. Not yet, anyway, and probably not even when they knew more. Being a kid really sucked sometimes.

Neither of them felt much like going back to sleep, so Gerard got out of bed to turn on the desk lamp and they read Dracula together. Gerard kept getting distracted by the full-page illustrations and complaining every time Mikey turned the page, but Mikey didn’t mind too much. It was a lot better thinking about Jonathan Harker’s problems than his own.

The next couple of weeks felt like the weeks before Mama had died, like something bad was hovering around every corner.

“I don’t get it,” Frank said. “If you know something bad’s gonna happen, why don’t you do something? Like with that guy and his car?”

“What would we do?” said Gerard with a scowl. “Tell Spencer we have a bad feeling that has something to do with that guy, only we don’t know what, so Spencer could…do what? It’s not like we know the car guy’s gonna do something bad. We don’t even know if his boss is gonna do something bad. It’s just a feeling.”

“It has something to do with where Gerard and I come from,” Mikey said, and both Gerard and Frank turned to look at him with wide, surprised eyes.

“Huh?” asked Gerard.

Mikey didn’t really get it either, but why else would he be having the dreams and the flashbacks at the same time he and Gerard were having bad premonitions? Bunny agreed, lifting her head off his lap to look him right in the eye, and suggested that scratching behind her ears might take Mikey’s mind off it. She was totally full of it, the little attention hog, but she wasn’t wrong, so he shrugged at Gerard and took her advice.

“Maybe you guys were created in some super-secret government lab, but you got away, and this guy’s one of the scientists,” Frank said. Mikey wrinkled his nose; he didn’t feel like a top-secret government experiment. “Or maybe,” Frank said, “he’s from, like, a family of supervillains that was arch-enemies with your birth family.”

“Or maybe we’re just weirdoes, and nothing’s actually gonna happen,” Gerard said glumly. He sneezed, and Bunny sighed long-sufferingly and crawled out of Mikey’s lap to go sit on the roots of a tree a little ways away. Sorry, Mikey said to her.

Frank frowned. “Don’t say that,” he said, and he sounded genuinely upset. “This is serious shit, you guys. You guys have super powers, for Christ’s sake, and if you think something bad’s gonna happen, I believe you! We can’t just sit back and wait for it to happen. If you don’t know what’s going on, just tell me what you know and I’ll fucking figure it out!” His voice got louder as he went on, and he was breathing hard, red-faced, by the time he stopped.

Mikey flinched without meaning to. For just a second, Frank had reminded him of the scary kid that had intimidated him and Gerard so much when they first met him, instead of their best friend. Gerard was pretty taken aback, too, but he quickly recovered and said, “Well, I think we’re leaving here to go live with the Honda Civic guy.”

Frank nodded determinedly. His face looked grim. “Okay,” he said, “so maybe he’s gonna foster you guys or something. Is he bad? You know, like hitting kids or doing sex stuff or something?”

Mikey thought back, trying to remember everything he could about the man. He’d mostly been thinking about the car at the time, and saving the guy’s life, but now he tried to think of what he’d felt from the guy, emotions and stuff. He didn’t remember feeling anything deep down bad, just confusion and nervousness and impatience. He shook his head at Frank. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I mean, I wasn’t trying to read his mind or anything. But he didn’t seem like a pervert or anything.”

Frank made a thoughtful face. “How about the boss Gerard drew?”

“Well, how are we supposed to know that?” Gerard asked, rolling his eyes. “We’ve never met him.”

“You drew the guy, and you’d never seen him before,” Frank pointed out. “It’s not like you guys don’t do impossible shit all the time, so I was just wondering.” It was a good point, thought Mikey. He didn’t realize he’d been projecting the thought until Gerard scowled at him.

“The point is,” Gerard said, “even if we knew something bad about this guy or his boss, what difference would it make? It’s not like we can tell Spencer we have a bad psychic feeling about them.”

Frank chewed on his lower lip anxiously and scratched at his neck, and Mikey didn’t even have to poke at his mind to see how hard he was thinking. Mikey felt kind of bad for making Frank worry for nothing, because he was pretty sure Gerard was right—there wasn’t anything they could do. But he didn’t want to say that to Frank, who was only trying to help, so he said to Bunny, Hey, you want a pipe cleaner? I stole a couple from the art room.

Bunny definitely wanted a pipe cleaner, so Mikey took out his starcase, where he’d put the pipe cleaners and some string for safekeeping. As he slid the lid back, he felt his heart stop in his chest for a second. He hadn’t noticed it before, but one corner of the front of the starcase was actually slipping off. It must have gotten broken when Bunny had knocked it out of Paul’s hands.

Bunny mewed unhappily. She was sorry—she hadn’t meant to break it, only to get it away from Paul. It’s okay, Mikey said unhappily. God, though, if the starcase was actually broken, it would suck so much. It was the only thing that he had from…wherever it was he and Gerard had come from. It wasn’t fair, that it could survive a stupid shipwreck or whatever just to get broken by stupid Paul.

Gerard broke off staring worriedly at Frank to stare worriedly at Mikey. “You okay?” he asked.

Mikey didn’t trust his voice—he wasn’t into crying in front of people, even if they were friends—so he said, as calmly as he could, I think my starcase is broken.

“It’s broken?” Gerard said aloud, distracting Frank.

“God, Mikey,” Frank said, “would it kill you to carry on a conversation out loud like everybody else?” He didn’t seem mad, though, and he scooted over closer to Mikey, apparently not caring that he was getting dirt all over the seat of his shorts. “What’s broken?” he asked.

“His starcase,” said Gerard, and he reached over to touch it. “Looks like this front part’s coming off.”

“Lemme see,” said Frank. Mikey handed him the starcase, and he peered at it. “Huh,” he said. “It looks like there used to be a little screw here. Maybe if we just slide it back, it’ll hold until we can find another screw.” He pushed at it, and it made a noise like rusty door hinges. Frank winced. “Oh. Shit. Sorry, Mikey.”

Had he broken it? Mikey jumped up and snatched it back. What did you do?, he yelled, forgetting to do it out loud so Frank could hear him. It didn’t matter, though, because Gerard said the exact same thing, looking about as irritated as Mikey felt.

Frank looked sheepish, but Mikey couldn’t bring himself to care. The whole front was totally off, now, hanging on by only one corner, and underneath was…huh. There was a little map under there. “Hey, look at this,” said Mikey, his anger forgotten.

Gerard and Frank clustered close to him to look at it. It was a detailed map, with delicate little mountains and trees and rivers etched into the metal. It had place names like “Cork Valley” and “Molasses Creek” and “Wolf Mountain” that Mikey didn’t recognize, with some weird writing in another language underneath each name. “Whoa,” Gerard said softly, his breath warm against Mikey’s neck.

“Was that always under there?” asked Frank, and without waiting for an answer, he said, “Dude, a hidden map. Kick-ass.”

The weird, heavy feeling of foreboding in Mikey’s stomach grew so much that he felt dizzy. He didn’t even need Gerard to say it: “I think we’re gonna go here.”

“Is it where that rich dude lives?” asked Frank, running a careful finger along Molasses Creek.

“No,” said Gerard. “But I think maybe it’s where we came from, originally.”

That didn’t make any sense. Why would they have been in a boat accident if they were coming from the place on the map? There wasn’t an ocean or lake or anything on it, and the names didn’t seem weird enough to have come from another country, or even a secret government lab. But Mikey got the same weird familiar sensation look at it that he’d gotten from the man speaking in a foreign language in his dream, so he nodded.

“That’s it!” said Frank. “That’s what we can do, then! We can look this place up in the library, and maybe get Spencer or Brendon or someone to take us there! The Honda Civic guy can’t take you if you’ve got a home somewhere else.”

Mikey couldn’t help thinking that, if they actually had family in Cork Valley or wherever, they were really crappy family who’d never even tried to find Mikey and Gerard after the accident. But still, it was better than nothing, and it was kind of exciting to think that maybe, just maybe, there were people out there like Mikey and Gerard, who’d understand what had happened when they were little and could explain why they could do such weird stuff.

As it turned out, they barely had time to do more than strike out in the library’s atlases before the things they were afraid of started happening.

Spencer and Brendon and Jon had pretty much given up on trying to make Mikey and Gerard socialize, since Frank had mostly taken over in that capacity. It was surprising and kind of alarming, then, when Jon walked over to the breakfast table Mikey and Gerard were sharing with Frank and some of Frank’s friends.

“Hey, guys,” he said, putting his hand on Mikey’s shoulder. Mikey usually liked it when Jon put a hand on his shoulder, because Jon was the kind of person who managed to be comforting without being totally awkward about it, but today his hand was stiff, almost nervous, and Mikey felt queasy. “Spencer wants to see Mikey and Gerard in his office,” said Jon.

“Why?” Frank said, glaring at Jon. Jon raised an eyebrow but didn’t look too surprised.

“Relax, Frank, they’re not in trouble. It’s a good thing, promise.”

Frank didn’t look very convinced, and Mikey couldn’t blame him. This is it, he said to Gerard, who nodded solemnly. They stood up, pushing their trays to the end of the table, and Gerard gave Frank a reassuring half-smile. Mikey wished, once again, that Frank could hear him if he just said It’ll be okay without speaking out loud.

They walked down the hallway with the library and the offices. Bill and Adam were leaning against the wall across from Spencer’s office, peering curiously through the half-open doorway, but they ducked into the library when Jon gave them a look.

Spencer and Mr. Ross from Child Protective Services were sitting in the office. What should have been more surprising, but wasn’t, was that the Honda Civic guy was there, too, sitting awkwardly in a chair in front of Spencer’s desk and tapping his fingers on his knee. When Jon brought Gerard and Mikey in, he stood up and gave them the same uncomfortable smile he’d given them when they had told him to stay out of his car.

“Hi,” he said. “Gerard and Mikey, right?” They nodded, and he said, “I’m Patrick, Patrick Stump. I was kind of too surprised at the time to be polite, but I’d really like to thank both of you for making sure I didn’t get in my car. I’m pretty sure you guys saved my life.”

Mikey felt himself flushing, and he looked at his shoes. He’d never really felt like a superhero before, but thinking that he’d actually saved someone’s life…well, it felt pretty cool, despite his nervousness around Mr. Stump.

Gerard seemed pretty pleased, too, and he said, “Aw, it was nothing. We’re just glad you’re okay.”

“That was a pretty lucky day all around,” said Spencer. “You guys wanna sit down?” He motioned to a couple of folding chairs over by Mr. Ross, and they went to sit. “I know this is pretty soon,” Spencer continued, more gently than usual, “and you’ve never been in a foster home before. But Mr. Stump and I have had a lot of conversations about this—and he’s taken all the classes, and done all the paperwork, and we’ve done the background checks and everything, so you don’t have to worry about us not knowing anything about him—and, well, he’d like for you guys to go and live with him.”

Mikey had a weird feeling, then, like watching a movie he didn’t remember he’d already seen, so everything that happened was both surprising and familiar. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen this coming, but the knowledge that he was actually right this time filled him with a weird sense of his own power. He looked over at Gerard, hoping for something that was normal and comforting. Instead, he was greeted with Gerard’s own disorientation and uncertainty, rolling out in waves that shook both of them.

Mr. Stump seemed kind of worried by their silence, and he said quickly, “You shouldn’t feel obligated or anything—I mean, obviously, if you’d rather stay here, that’s totally cool. Just, I feel like you guys really helped me, and I kind of want to help you back. I’m not, like, the world’s most experienced parent, and I wouldn’t try to take your mom’s place or anything, but I just….” He made a funny face, twisting his mouth up in a knot on one side and making his glasses slide down his nose a little. “I’d do my best to do right by you, you know?”

Spencer leaned forward on his desk, fixing them with a serious look. “No pressure, seriously. You’ve only been here for two months, and we’d all understand if you weren’t up for moving again so soon, or if you wanted to wait and get to know Mr. Stump a little better first. Totally up to you guys.”

There wasn’t anything bossy or mean or smarmy about Spencer’s voice—he meant what he said. But underneath it, maybe not even in his voice but in his mind, he was desperate. Mikey had a sudden vision of him and Brendon and Jon and Mr. Ross sitting around a table, going over long boring financial papers with grim expressions, Brendon offering to take a pay cut, Jon suggesting that they ask schools and stuff for donations, Mr. Ross saying that he’d try to explain that it was a home for hard-to-place kids, so of course they weren’t making that many placements, but that the state was cutting its budget.

Mr. Stump’s boss, the one with the mansion, had offered them money, and a lot of it. A donation, he said, not like a bribe or anything, and they still thought it was kind of weird, but they needed that money if they were going to be able to keep taking in new kids, or even stay open for too much longer. Also, there wasn’t any reason not to think that, if Gerard and Mikey did well at Mr. Stump’s, Mr. Stump’s boss wouldn’t keep supporting the Home, if only for publicity reasons, and maybe some of the other kids could wind up with decent placements, too.

No pressure, Spencer had said. Yeah, right.

“Okay,” Mikey said, not willing or able to come up with something more enthusiastic.

Spencer looked surprised, but pleased, and he grinned at Mr. Stump. Gerard was kind of taken aback and gave Mikey a questioning look, so Mikey said I’ll explain later. Gerard took a deep breath and made a nervous, disgruntled face for a few moments, but he finally smiled, a nervous smile with a lot of teeth, and said, “Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah, okay,” Mr. Stump repeated, wiping his hands on his pants and blinking, like he hadn’t expected them to agree. Since Mikey hadn’t been expecting to agree, either, he could understand Mr. Stump’s surprise. “Wow. Yeah. If it’s okay—it’ll probably be a couple of days until you guys actually move in. We’ve got some rooms put together for you, but—is there anything special you guys like? You know, favorite colors or hobbies or whatever? We’re trying to—I know it’s not actually gonna feel like home, but we thought we’d try and make it as welcoming as we could.”

“We?” asked Gerard.

“Um. Yeah, that’s….” Mr. Stump took off the hat he’d been wearing and scratched at the back of his head. “I actually live in a house with my boss and his security team and stuff. That’s—it’s not as weird as it sounds. My boss is the CEO of a bunch of different companies, and he has this huge mansion, so it’s not like—my part of the house is practically its own house, you know? But my boss is really excited to meet you guys, and he wanted to help put stuff together. So if there’s anything particular you’d like in your rooms….” His voice trailed off, and he smiled at them, a little less awkwardly than before.

Like what? Mikey wondered, and Gerard raised his eyebrows in what might as well have been a shrug. Mikey’s ideal room would have been his room from Mama’s house, only with a huge stereo system and more band posters, but he wasn’t sure if that was the kind of stuff Mr. Stump had in mind, and besides, it was really weird to ask some guy he didn’t even know for stuff like that.

Gerard clearly agreed, but he said, “Well, we like black. The color, I mean. And we like music and comic books and horror movies and stuff.”

Mr. Stump actually laughed at that and said, “I think you guys are gonna get along great with everyone. I guess I’ll see you in a few days, then.” He hesitated for a moment and then stepped forward and reached out his hand. Mikey felt absurdly grateful that this guy wasn’t actually going to try and hug him, and he took the offered hand to shake it. Mr. Stump smiled at him and turned back to Spencer. “Thanks so much for all your help, Mr. Smith.”

“Oh, thank you,” said Spencer. “I’m really happy that Mikey and Gerard are getting such a great opportunity.” They shook hands, too, and Spencer went with Mr. Stump, presumably to see him off.

Jon, who’d been standing in the doorway pretty much the whole time, walked over to sit down in Mr. Stump’s empty chair. “You guys okay with all this?” he said. “I know it’s all happening kind of fast.”

Before Gerard or Mikey could say anything, Mr. Ross said, “Kind of fast? I cannot believe how fast that guy got those papers together. I guess a little money goes a long way.”

Jon frowned at Mr. Ross and said, “Dude, Ryan, we don’t need to talk about that now, all right?”

Mr. Ross sighed and turned to give Mikey and Gerard a small smile. “Don’t get me wrong. I think this is a great thing, and I really hope it works out. If there are any problems, though, or if you ever want to talk….” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a stack of crumpled business cards, and he handed the one on the top to Gerard. “Here. I’m still your case worker, so, you know. Call me if you need me.”

Mikey tried to remember if Mr. Ross had ever said so many words at the same time to them. Even when they’d gone back to the Armstrongs’ house after Mama’s funeral, and Mr. Ross had been there to take them to the Smith Home and explain what being in the CPS system meant, he hadn’t seemed like a super chatty guy, and he seemed to be talking more to the Armstrongs than to Mikey and Gerard.

Jon and Mr. Ross both wanted to know if they wanted to talk to Brendon, but mostly they just wanted to be alone to think about stuff and tell Frank what was going on. So Mikey let both of them hug him—and Mr. Ross was surprisingly good at it, though his arms seemed way longer than necessary—and they went off to go find Frank.

Breakfast was already over, so they went out to the playground. A bunch of kids were playing soccer, Frank among them, so they wandered over and waited for a break in the game (a safe distance away from the actual field, so no one would try to make them play). Mikey explained to Gerard about the Home’s money problems, and Gerard agreed that it had been the right thing to do, and then went into a long tangent about how maybe, even though the whole thing gave them a bad feeling, they were fated to go live with Mr. Stump for some mysterious higher purpose. The sun was warm on their faces, and Mikey let himself doze off a little, taking in the comforting rhythm of his brother’s voice more than the words themselves.

After what seemed like a long time, but what according to Mikey’s watch was only half an hour, the game broke up and everyone went to go get water. It was promising to be another hot day.

Gerard and Mikey got up, brushed grass off their butts, and ran to catch up with Frank, who was walking with Jamia and Bill.

“Hey,” said Gerard. “We were right, it was that Honda Civic guy.”

“Oh, yeah?” Frank asked, raising his eyebrows at them. Mikey stopped for a second, confused. Frank looked calm enough, but he was radiating enough anger that it actually freaked Mikey out a little, and he stepped back involuntarily.

Gerard frowned. “Yeah, it turns out he--”

But Frank wasn’t even listening; he and Jamia and Bill kept walking. Jamia was the only one to look back, frowning confusedly before returning her attention to whatever bad joke Bill was telling.

“I don’t get it,” Gerard said. “What did we do?”

Honestly, Mikey was too worn out with weird changes and unsettling feelings to do more than sigh unhappily. At least Frank hadn’t hit them or anything, and it wasn’t like they weren’t used to being alone, even if it totally sucked.

They spent the rest of the day sitting in a patch of cool shade, Gerard drawing and Mikey petting Bunny, both of them figuring that whatever Frank was pissed about, it’d blow over by dinnertime.

But it didn’t. When they sat down by him at lunch, and then at dinner, he didn’t even look at them, like they weren’t even there. And what was really weird was, Mikey was pretty sure that Frank and his friends had been talking about them before they’d sat down both times, because Greta and Darren kept shooting them odd, curious looks.

The next morning, they sat by themselves at their old table in the corner and watched Frank and Jamia and Bill and Greta talk and laugh and throw cereal flakes at each other.

“It’s weird,” Gerard said. “I never used to get this lonely and stuff, but I think it makes it worse when you had a friend, but now you don’t anymore.”

Yeah, said Mikey glumly. He couldn’t decide what the worst part was—that he didn’t even know why Frank was mad, and he was the psychic one, or that now he maybe wouldn’t ever learn more than the C and A and G chords on the guitar, or that they were gonna leave in just a few days and they wouldn’t even get to say goodbye to Frank, or if they did, he wouldn’t say goodbye back.

As the day went on, Gerard got madder and madder. “It’s not fair,” he said. “If someone makes you mad, you should tell them so they can fix it, and not just give them this silent treatment crap.”

I give people the silent treatment all the time, said Mikey.

Gerard rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but that’s not the same at all. You’re just quiet. This is like if you were pissed at me, so you never said stuff telepathically to me either, so I couldn’t ever figure out why you were upset.”

You want me to try and read his mind? Mikey asked. He’d tried a couple of times already, but he’d only gotten a bunch of confused thoughts like Fuck them, anyway and I’d totally do something and I gotta get new people for my band now.

“No,” said Gerard. “It’s not fair if he doesn’t tell us.”

It didn’t seem like he was ever gonna tell them, but Mikey just said, Okay.

Gerard stood up. “No, seriously, I’m kind of pissed off now. I’m gonna go find out what the problem is, and I don’t even care if he breaks my arm.” And with that, he stalked off towards the jungle gym where Frank was swinging upside-down by his knees, throwing handfuls of gravel at Jamia and Greta. Mikey scrambled after him, saying to Bunny, Keep close, in case you have to scratch somebody again.

When they got over to the jungle gym, Frank did a little flip thing that ended up with him landing on his knees in the gravel.

“Ew, you’re bleeding,” said Jamia. She gave Gerard and Mikey a kind of dubious look and said, “Hey, Frank, Minnellis at two o’clock.” Frank hadn’t even looked up from his skinned knees.

“What is your problem?!” Gerard said, and Frank actually looked up. “If you’re pissed off at us, the least you could do is tell us why! I mean, we’re leaving in, like, two days or something, and then it’ll be like—it’ll be like when you’re mad at someone and then they die, and so you never get to tell them that you loved them, and then you feel bad for the rest of your life.”

Frank stared at Gerard, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, like he’d just broken into song and dance right there on the playground. Mikey considered being embarrassed on his brother’s behalf, but since Gerard’s rant seemed to have finally shocked Frank into paying attention to them, embarrassment just seemed pointless.

“All righty then,” said Jamia, rolling her eyes. “Greta, come on and get band-aids with me while they kiss and make up.” They were really cool, Mikey thought as they ran off towards the main building. It was too bad they’d never really gotten to be friends.

The three boys stood in silence for a long, torturous moment by the jungle gym before Frank said, sounding kind of irritated, “So, I heard they asked you if you wanted to go live with that guy, and you said yes. I mean, after all that shit about the bad feeling you got, and how there wasn’t anything you could do, you actually get a chance to say no and stay here, and what do you do? You go right along with it!” He was actually yelling, now, and Mikey had to make himself stay there and keep looking at Frank instead of running back to grab Bunny and go sit in the woods. “What the hell?!” Frank went on. “I mean, I thought we were friends and all, but what, you’re gonna give up our band and being superheroes and stuff so you can live in a mansion with a pool and shit like that?”

“It isn’t like that,” Gerard began, softer than before, but Frank cut him off.

“The hell it isn’t! Even I know how to get out of a foster home when I know it’s gonna go to shit, and you guys have fucking super powers, and you just do nothing!” He waved his arms around in a huge, upset gesture.

Mikey didn’t want to talk right now, he wanted to hide in his bunk with Bunny and Gerard and never open his mouth again, since the last time he’d talked had caused so much trouble, but he couldn’t not explain stuff to Frank. “They gave the Home a lot of money,” he said. “Spencer’s having a lot of money problems and they were maybe gonna have to shut down or send some kids away or something, but Mr. Stump and his boss gave them a lot of money, and if we didn’t go, maybe they were gonna take it back.”

Frank put his arms down and looked at Mikey with big, serious eyes. “No shit?” he said.

Mikey nodded solemnly. “No shit.”

Frank broke out in a watery smile. “Oh,” he said. He was silent for a long moment, looking between Mikey and Gerard, before saying, “Well, I guess that’s a pretty good reason.” He stood on his tip-toes and gave Mikey a noogie. “Sorry for being a dick,” he said. “It’s just…you guys are, like, the coolest people I’ve ever met, even when you’re being total dorks, and…you know, maybe I’ll never see you again.” The corner of Frank’s mouth quivered, and Mikey felt alarmed. Frank didn’t seem like the kind of kid who cried much.

“Why wouldn’t you see us again?” Gerard asked. He looked ready to cry, too.

“I don’t know,” said Frank, rubbing at his eyes with the shoulder of his dirty tee-shirt. “You’ll probably go live with rich people and use your powers to be, like, the richest people in the world, and then you’ll forget all about me.”

“No, we won’t,” said Gerard firmly. “That’s stupid. You’re the best friend we ever had, and superheroes don’t forget about their friends just because they get money or get adopted or whatever.”

Frank shrugged and said, “People do all kinds of shit.” But his voice was stronger, and he looked happier, and Mikey felt warm in a way that had nothing to do with how the sun was beating down on the back of his neck or his hot, sticky Smiths tee-shirt.

“We’ll still be friends, and we’ll still make an awesome rock band,” he said. “I’ve got a feeling.” Honestly, he didn’t really have a feeling about it one way or another, but he figured this was one of those times where you didn’t see the future, you made the future.

“Yeah,” Frank said, with a smile that seemed a lot quieter than his usual grin. He sighed happily before saying, “Hey, you guys wanna come with me and watch Brendon pour alcohol on these?” He pointed to his skinned knees. “Seriously, it foams up and makes noise and stuff—it’s awesome.”

Gerard said, “Okay,” and Mikey nodded. Sure, they were still going away in a couple of days, and who knew what was gonna happen then? But at least they’d have a friend when they left.

**

Mr. Stump came three days later in a big black limousine. “It’s my boss’s,” he explained, sounding a little embarrassed. “I’m still working on the insurance stuff on the car that the truck hit, so I haven’t gotten a new one yet.” Whatever, Gerard thought, riding in a limo was totally cool.

Mikey disappeared as soon as Mr. Stump arrived, and returned with a suspiciously lumpy backpack. A suspiciously lumpy backpack that squeaked when Mikey dropped it on the bed.

“Oh, Mikey,” said Gerard. “You’re not….”

I can’t just leave her, said Mikey defensively. I left it a little unzipped on one side so she could breathe, see?

Gerard peered at the bag, and wondered what would happen if Bunny got carsick. “This is a really bad idea, Mikey, seriously,” he said. “We didn’t ask Mr. Stump if we could have pets.”

Bunny’s not a pet, Bunny’s my friend, and she’s awesome. Mikey sat on the bed with the backpack in his lap, glaring at Gerard with his glasses slipping all the way down his nose.

Sometimes, Gerard thought, Mikey could be really mature, and other times it was like he totally forgot all the weird feelings they’d had in connection with Mr. Stump and his boss and the dreams, and he just wouldn’t let go of what he wanted, even if it might cause trouble later. On the other hand, Bunny was pretty good in a fight, so maybe she’d come in handy after all. “Whatever,” he said. “Just don’t let Mr. Stump see her. We have to pack.”

He got a weird feeling of smug, almost mocking pleasure that didn’t seem to be coming from Mikey, and wondered when the hell he’d become Dr. Doolittle.

“Mikey,” he said, “your cat’s making fun of me.”

Serves you right, Mikey said, rolling his socks into little balls and stuffing them in the corner of his suitcase.

Spencer and Brendon came in after a while and helped Gerard and Mikey take down all their drawings and pack up their stuff. When they were finished, the room looked almost as blank and boring as it had when they’d arrived. Looking around, Gerard felt homesick sadness twisting his stomach for the first time in a while. Mikey reached out to grab his hand, and Gerard squeezed back gratefully. Having a brother who really knew how you were feeling was pretty awesome.

Most of the kids watched them carry their stuff downstairs with expressions that couldn’t have said “Good riddance” any more clearly than if they’d said it out loud, but Jamia and Bill and Greta and Adam actually came to help with their suitcases.

“Jesus, Minnelli, what do you have in this thing?” said Adam, who’d grabbed Gerard’s backpack.

“Comic books,” he replied.

Jamia, who was helping Mikey with his big suitcase, looked over her shoulder at Gerard and said, “Frank’s coming, don’t worry. He just had to get something.”

It didn’t take long to get everything downstairs, especially with six people (and some help from Brendon and Spencer, who occasionally had to reach out to keep someone from tumbling down). Before long, they were all standing by the front door, staring at each other a little awkwardly.

“Well….” Greta said. “Good luck, I guess.”

Bill nodded. “Yeah. You should totally throw a party sometime and invite us—I bet those rich people know how to rock.”

Spencer narrowed his eyes at Bill and said, “Why don’t you give them a chance to get settled in a little first, huh?” He let out a long, slow breath and gave Mikey and Gerard a small smile. “Sorry to get all mushy,” he said, “but…” He hugged them both. “I know you guys weren’t here very long, but it was really nice to have you while we did, and I hope everything works out.” Gerard felt himself choking up a little bit, and distracted himself by hoping that Bunny didn’t freak out when Spencer hugged Mikey, who had his backpack on.

Wait, Mikey said when Spencer had pulled away. We’re not leaving before Frank comes, right?

Gerard shrugged. He hadn’t been worried, especially after what Jamia had said, but Frank was cutting it pretty close.

Mr. Stump helped them carry their stuff to the car and then looked between them and the group from the Home, seeming pretty out of his depth. “So. Um, are you guys ready to go?” he asked.

Can’t we just go to Frank’s room and say goodbye? We don’t have to wait for him, right? Mikey asked, and for what was probably the millionth time in his life, Gerard wished that he didn’t have to do all the talking for both of them.

“Um,” he began, but before he’d even begun to think of a nice polite way to say that they wanted to find Frank first, the loud clatter of stomping footsteps on stairs came from behind them, and a smile spread across Mikey’s face.

“Wait!” Frank said, dashing breathlessly outside and practically throwing himself on Mikey and Gerard. “Sorry—I wanted to give you something before you left.” He held out a well-worn book with a picture of a guitar on the front of it. “I got it from one of the families I stayed with, and it’s way too easy for me now. I thought maybe Mikey could use it, if he can find a guitar to use.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” said Mr. Stump, smiling at Frank.

Frank smiled back, the kind of quick polite smile Gerard was used to seeing him give strange adults, and then turned back to Mikey and Gerard and flipped the book open to the back. “They put a lot of blank sheets back here,” he said, “so I wrote down the chords for a bunch of songs—there’s some Smiths and Black Flag and Green Day, and stuff, and harmonicas use the same chords as guitars, right? So you guys can practice together, and then we’ll all sound good when we start a band.”

Gerard felt himself choking up a little again. Nobody’d ever given them such a cool present before, except for Mama, and it sucked, because who knew when they’d see Frank again, but it also ruled, because it’d be a reminder at Mr. Stump’s house that they actually had a friend somewhere. “Thanks, Frank,” he said, and he hoped he didn’t look too teary-eyed.

Mikey nodded gravely and took the book from Frank like it was made out of solid gold.

Frank grinned. “It was nothing,” he said, but he looked pretty pleased, too. “See you guys around, I guess.”

Gerard nodded. “See you around.” As he walked to the car, he tried not to look back at Frank and Spencer and the Home too much, since there wasn’t any point in making himself unhappier than he already was, but he couldn’t help it. Frank was waving, and Gerard watched him until they drove out of sight of the Smith Home and Frank turned into a tiny spot of color before vanishing altogether.

The car trip to Mr. Stump’s house was a lot like that first car trip with Mr. Ross to the Home—awkward and quiet. It wasn’t as hot, though, because the limo had individual climate controls for each seat, and Mikey and Gerard entertained themselves for a while with all the buttons.

It wasn’t a terribly long trip. The longest part of it, it seemed, was the distance between the gate (which had a sign with “Decaydance” written on it in fancy script) and the actual house. Mr. Stump, or his boss, or whoever, had a really, really big yard.

“Why do you have a sign that says ‘Decadence’ spelled wrong outside your yard?” Gerard asked, talking over the vaguely familiar punk-rock playing over the radio.

Mr. Stump looked at him in the rearview mirror and smiled wryly. “That’s what Pete—my boss—calls his house. It’s kind of a pun. He owns a record label and stuff, so. It’s like a joke.”

Gerard thought it was both a weird pun and a weird thing to call your house, but it wasn’t like it was his house, so he didn’t say anything.

Who names their house? asked Mikey irritably. Bunny wasn’t liking the car ride too much—she wasn’t making noise, but she was obviously complaining to Mikey, who in turn was complaining wordlessly to Gerard.

“British people name their houses,” said Gerard. “Like, in Pride and Prejudice, the houses all have names like Pemberley and Netherfield and stuff.”

Mr. Stump, who had no reason not to think Gerard was talking to him, said, “Yeah, I guess that’s right. I think Pete was going more for ‘eccentric rich person’ than ‘1830s British person,’ though.”

Well, whatever kind of crazy rich person Pete was, his yard was incredible. There was more forest here, it seemed, than at the state park Mama had taken them one summer. Gerard smiled to see a mother and baby deer eating in a clearing as they drove by, and he thought he saw a little creek trickling among the trees. Gerard wasn’t, like, Mark Trail or anything, but he knew cool nature when he saw it.

Screw nature, said Mikey. Look at this house!

Gerard scooted over to look through Mikey’s window. His throat suddenly felt dry, and he swallowed uncomfortably. Pete’s house looked exactly like it had when he’d drawn it a few weeks back, and it was huge. Like, bigger than Gerard and Mikey’s old school, bigger than the shopping mall in Monroeville, probably bigger than Professor Xavier’s mansion, and that dude ran a crime-fighting force of mutants out of his basement. “Wow,” said Gerard.

“Yeah,” said Mr. Stump. “It’s a pretty cool place.” He pulled the limo to a stop, and three guys came out onto the (huge) front deck. The first guy, Gerard recognized as Mr. Stump’s boss, but the other two, one with a mass of curly brown hair and the other with a reddish-brown beard and glasses, were unfamiliar.

“Holy shit, Patrick, is this them?” said Mr. Stump’s boss—Pete—as soon as they got out of the car. “Oh, man, could they get any cuter? They’re just like little balls of teenaged angst!”

Mikey raised an eyebrow and gave Gerard what was probably the most confused expression Gerard had ever seen on his face. Is this guy for real? he asked.

“Um, Pete,” said Mr. Stump, “you are aware that they’re standing in front of you and can hear everything you’re saying, right?”

“Dude, being cute is nothing to be ashamed of! A lot of guys would kill to be that cute.” Pete ran up to them and hugged them, and Gerard couldn’t help being a little weirded out. He wasn’t so into the personal contact with strangers thing, and people had been hugging him a lot over the last few days. Mikey endured the hug with a stoic expression and woodlike stiffness.

“Hey,” said Pete. “So, I’m Pete Wentz. Your—well, you know, Patrick works for me.”

“Okay,” Gerard said, because what else was he supposed to say?

“He’s my gentleman’s gentleman. My Jeeves, the peanut butter to my jelly, the pepper to my salt, the wind beneath my wings…”

“Oh, God, Pete, shut up,” said Mr. Stump, rolling his eyes. “Sorry about him.” He turned to the other two guys on the doorstep and said, “Guys, these are Mikey and Gerard. Mikey and Gerard, this is Joe, Pete’s head of security”—the guy with the huge hair—“and this is Andy, his business manager”—the bearded guy with the long hair and glasses. Gerard wondered if Mr. Stump wanted them to call him Patrick; they all seemed like a pretty informal bunch.

“Nice to meet you,” said Andy, and he and Joe walked down off the deck. Andy shook their hands, and Joe waved dorkily. They both had really cool tattoos on their arms, and Gerard kind of wanted to sit down and look at the colors, which seemed a lot brighter than the colors in most tattoos he’d seen, but he figured that was a kind of weird thing to ask two guys he didn’t really know.

“So,” said Joe, with a noticeable lisp, “you guys wanna see your rooms?”

Mikey nodded. After that, he said to Gerard, we gotta find a place to let Bunny out. She’s gotta go to the bathroom.

Great. Just great. Gerard said, “That’d be nice, thank you,” with his best polite smile, and hoped Bunny could hold it in for as long as it took these guys to leave them alone.

They didn’t go in the front door. “My wing’s got its own entrance and driveway and stuff,” Mr. Stump explained. “I parked here this time because the guys wanted to meet you.” Gerard wondered if Joe and Andy lived here, too, and if they had their own wings, or if that was reserved for Mr. Stump, who Pete seemed to have a huge man-crush on.

Mr. Stump opened a door on the left side of the house, and all six of them walked into a huge open living room with a big screen TV, a huge stereo system, and a shelf with more DVDs and CDs than Gerard had ever seen in his life.

Whoa, said Mikey, and Gerard agreed. Being Pete’s ‘gentleman’s gentleman’ must have paid pretty well.

They walked past a small but cool, futuristic-looking kitchen and a bedroom, its door half-closed. “That’s my room,” said Mr. Stump. “Just, FYI. I’d rather you guys didn’t go in it without me, just a privacy thing, but if we’re home and you need me, that’s the place.”

After that, they were in a side hallway whose only door was at the end. It was a weird claustrophobic little corridor that didn’t seem to go with the open space in the living room, and it had clearly been remodeled recently. The paint was fresher and cleaner than anywhere else in the place.

Joe stepped forward to push open the door, and they walked inside.

Oh my God, said Mikey. I can’t believe I was having bad feelings about this.

It was—it was like if someone had picked Gerard’s brain for the perfect room, his dream room, and then gone out and gotten it. There was a big, soft-looking black leather sofa in front of a plasma TV. There was another stereo system in the corner, not as big as the one in the living room, but still nicer than Gerard had ever had before. There was a bookshelf that, Gerard could see from here, was full of comics and graphic novels, and a media case with a shitload of horror movies and comic book adaptations. There was a Batman poster on the wall, and a refrigerator, and a pinball table.

“Um,” Mr. Stump said, “We weren’t sure if you guys wanted your own rooms or not, so we set up this sort of common area in the middle and put rooms for each of you on either side, so it’d be like…you were sharing a room but both had your own space. I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh my God, there’s more?” Gerard said without really meaning to. Pete laughed, and Mr. Stump reddened. Gerard ran over to one of the little doors leading off from the center room, and stared. A black wrought-iron bed, just like the one he’d had at home. An actual easel, with actual art supplies. A paperweight with a stuffed bat in it. It was like he’d died and gone to heaven.

Gerard, said Mikey, and he sounded so quavery and shocked that Gerard ran back to the other side of the main room, where another little door led to another bedroom. This room was a little smaller, with a shelf full of books and CDs, and on the bed was an acoustic guitar. They got me a guitar, Gee, Mikey said. I don’t…it’s like they read my mind.

And the fact that it was Mikey talking about other people’s mind-reading made Gerard laugh.

“So, do you like it?” asked Pete eagerly.

“This is so great,” said Gerard, feeling inadequate to the task of expressing just how great this setup was. “Seriously. Thank you so, so much. You didn’t need to go to all this trouble.”

Pete dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “Don’t worry about it! We all just wanted to make you guys feel at home.”

As far as Gerard was concerned, ‘at home’ still meant the sunken-in old couch in the living room, watching Mama rehearse for her next show and eating Spaghetti-Os out of the Ninja Turtle bowls Mama had gotten at a garage sale. But this was pretty cool, too.

Part 4