Bedtime Story - Four

[Daisuke]

- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- [COLOR=#800080]Six[/COLOR]

Four



Spencer sat at the table, wide-eyed as I cut him a thick slice of prime rib. “Wow, Cam,” he said softly as I scooped a generous helping of potatoes onto his plate. “This smells so good.”

I served him some green beans and then served myself. “Let’s hope it tastes as good as it smells.”

When I took my seat, I glanced up to find him staring at his dinner, his fists clutched tight on each side of his plate. He was so excited at the grocery store and while I’d been cooking that I’d been expecting him to tear into his food right away. “Spencer? Is something wrong?”

He met my gaze, and my heart skipped a beat when I realized something was frightening him. “It…” He swallowed. “It looks exactly like the food the lady made on TV.”

I grinned. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Yeah, but…” He hesitated, shrank deeper into his chair.

This was only our third night on our own, and it was the weekend, so we hadn’t seen Cindy all day. Had I been wrong to throw her out? Did he need an adult presence, even one as toxic as hers, to feel safe? “But?”

“I-I never saw you cook anything before, Cameron. And I didn’t see you write anything down from the TV show, even though it looked kinda complicated.” He shook his head. “How did you remember all of that? You didn’t mess up anything. Not one thing.”

I paused, thought about it for a few moments. “If I see something done once, I can usually replicate it without any trouble.”

His brow furrowed. “What’s ‘r-repli-cate’ mean?”

“It means I’m good at copying what other people do.”

The uneasiness began to leave his face, slowly replaced by the hero worship that had been present the night he’d told me how cool it was I could see in the dark. “It’s another superpower?”

I chuckled. “Hardly. If I saw someone run a four-minute mile, for example, I certainly couldn’t replicate that. But if it’s something within my physical ability,” I reached over, tweaked his nose, “like making dinner for my little brother or—”

*****

“—Or preparing a bottle for a baby,” murmured Spencer.

Jarred once again to be facing our present day selves, I blinked at my brother. “Or that.”

His body uncurled itself slightly as he made himself more comfortable on the ground. Just watching him move made me itch—the hay I was sitting on was already irritating my skin.

“I was so jealous,” said Spencer. “I’m still jealous.”

I frowned. “Of what?”

Anger sparked inside of him again, instantly tightening his muscles, forcing them to twitch and swell.

So much rage. Did I really hurt you so badly, Spencer?

“You just had to see something done and you could DO it. It was the same in school—you’d spend a night or two reading through your texts and then you never opened them again because you were set for the rest of the year.” One of his massive hands curled into a fist. “I had to study my ass off for my grades and I was still always playing catch up with you.”

Spencer had felt insufficient around me? I never suspected. Not even once. “You’re extremely intelligent, Spence. And you’re six years younger than I am. Back then, you shouldn’t have been worrying about catching up.” My voice firmed. “Now you’re the head of the Heaton Empire. Any way you measure it, you’ve surpassed me.”

His eyes narrowed as a low, dangerous growl rumbled through gritted teeth.

This was bad. I needed him calm if I was going to have any chance at helping him. “Spence?”

“What?”

“That first dinner I made for us…” I eased closer—not much, just an inch, maybe two. “…did you enjoy it?”

The ferocity in his eyes vanished to make room for confusion. “I had three servings.”

“Yes, I remember.” My mouth crooked. “But let’s face it—back then you would have eaten three servings of cardboard. You were always starving.” My voice softened. “And growing so fast.”

Confusion faded into something a little more neutral. “I loved everything you made. Even when Dad started taking me to five-star restaurants, nothing ever stood up to the things you cooked at home.”

A smile ghosted on my lips. It had been close to five years since I’d seen or heard from Spencer. I wondered what he’d say if I told him I hardly cooked at all anymore. That somehow, without him sitting across the table, I’d lost my motivation.

My smile slipped when I realized he’d likely think I was lying.

“You…” I swallowed, glancing away as I tried to retrieve my train of thought. “You really were growing fast,” I murmured. “Even on the night of our first sit-down dinner, I could see it. But I suppose I didn’t sit up and take notice until that day in the park…”

*****

I sat on a swing, floating back and forth as I watched Spencer playing on the monkey bars. He looked happy, and relaxed. That was good, right? It meant I’d been doing a proper job of taking care of him these past three weeks.

A smile curved my lips as I let myself relax a little, too. I liked watching him play—he had so much energy, and he never had any trouble making friends. Nothing like me when I was six.

“Hey, geek. Off the swings.”

Blowing out a soft breath, I kept my gaze on my brother.

A hand grabbed the chain of my swing and gave it a rough shake. “Did ya hear me? Get off.”

“Yes, I heard you,” I said calmly, not bothering to look up. “And no.”

Predictably, someone shoved me off the swing and into the dirt. I bit back a hiss as I skinned my elbow, determined not to show pain as I turned over to face my attacker. My eyebrow lifted when I saw two boys standing over me. Big, but younger. Fourth graders, maybe?

I really needed to figure out a way to put a stop to these sort of encounters.

The taller one smirked down at me. “Not so brave now, are ya?”

My fists clenched.

I am Cameron Heaton.

But that wasn’t going to help me now.

Think.

The smaller bully rammed a boot into my stomach, knocking the air out of me. I curled into a ball, sucking in air, inhaling dust and pollen along with it.

Triggering an asthma attack.

The bullies laughed as I coughed and wheezed.

“Look at this! One little tap and he acts like he’s dying!”

I reached into my shirt and pulled out the inhaler I wore around my neck. Before I could even get it to my mouth, the taller boy snatched it away from me with enough force to break the strap.

“What’s this?”

A coughing fit wracked my body, preventing me from answering.

He kicked at my shoulder. “Yo, I asked you a question.”

His need for an answer didn’t help to clear my airways any faster.

“Fine,” he muttered, cocking his arm back. “Say bye-bye to it then.”

I barely registered him throwing my inhaler into the weeds—I just knew I was in a lot of trouble and wouldn’t be able to talk my way out of it.

“HEY! What are you doing to my brother!”

I managed to lift my head just in time to see Spencer barrel into the smaller bully, knocking him to the ground with enough force to send the kid sliding across the grass and crashing into the metal pole of the swings. He stood straight, between me and the taller boy, as the bigger bully took a swing at him, ducking out of the way and landing a hard punch to his stomach. The bully managed to recover just enough to take a swing at Spencer, but Spencer smoothly caught his wrist and threw a hard fist into his face, dropping him to the ground.

“Don’t you ever touch Cameron again, do you hear me!” he shouted, kicking at the boy as he scrambled to get away. “EVER!”

Jesus, I’d never heard him bellow like that before. When did his voice get deeper?

The bullies ran off, and Spencer dropped to his knees in front of me. “Cam?” he asked, all at once sounding like a frightened child as he felt along my chest. “Where’s your inhaler?”

I pointed toward the weeds and he took off in that direction.

Calm down, I told myself, blowing out a slow, controlled breath and forcing myself to take air in just as slowly. You’ve had attacks before without your medicine around. I closed my eyes, concentrating. Much easier to do without people kicking and taunting me.

Spencer returned a few seconds later. “Here,” he said, pushing the inhaler into my hands.

Shaking up the inhaler, I blew out another slow breath and put it to my mouth. I pressed the canister and inhaled deeply, holding my breath a few seconds before exhaling. Finally, the pain in my chest began to ease, my wheezing faded. It took a few minutes, but soon I began to feel normal again. “Thanks, Spence.”

“A-Are you okay now?”

I glanced up, nodded. “Where… Where did you learn to fight like that?”

He stared at me, lower lip trembling, eyes shining bright.

“Did you pick it up from television? At school?” I knew for sure he couldn’t have gotten it from me. We wrestled from time to time, but I’d never had moves close to as powerful as the ones I’d witnessed him use just now.

Spencer was silent a few moments more before bursting into tears and throwing himself into my body.

Surprised, I dropped my inhaler and wrapped my arms around him. “What’s wrong?”

His sobs doubled in volume. “I-I was so scared!”

“Scared?” I stroked his back, shocked to feel hard, dense muscles writhing there as he cried. “Of what?”

His arms clamped around me, hugging me tight. “I saw them hurting you and I ran here as fast as I could but it didn’t matter because before I got here one of them kicked you AGAIN and—”

“Spencer,” I murmured, stroking his hair. “That wasn’t your—”

“—then you couldn’t breathe! What if I didn’t find your inhaler, Cam?”

I pulled him closer, rocked him back and forth.

He was six years old. He didn’t deserve this kind of stress.

“You stopped them before I was seriously hurt,” I told him gently. “And you did find my inhaler, so there’s no point in playing the ‘What if?’ game.” I lowered my head, smiling as I noticed that his hair smelled like grass and sun. “You are a great brother, Spencer. The best in the world.”

He snuggled deeper into my embrace, sniffled into my shirt. “Y-You mean it?”

“Yes,” I whispered, holding him close.

I’d told him the truth that day as I soothed his tears, murmured comforting words into his ear. But as I noticed the breadth of his shoulders, the hard bulges of muscle in his arms and chest… I also learned another truth, one I would keep to myself for years.

Spencer—my beloved brother, the one gift from my parents that actually meant something—was not a normal human being.

[Mass Driver]

You have a great story here. You have the foundation down for the rest of your tale, and some great interaction with the two men. I see where this may be going, what with absentee parents who are high profile professionals, while lacking any staying power in the family arena. I'm sorta hoping that Spencer helps Cameron find his own wishing star by the end of the story. One suggestion, let him keep the night vision, even if he has to wear sunglasses. Big Impressive guys with one flaw keeps them human.

Thanks for the story so far and please do...
Keep Writing.

MD

[memorex414]

Love this one. Glad you've decided to pick it back up.

[rogsats]

I like this story so much. I hope, that mext chapter won't be in next year but much earlier

[nj.]

I'm glad you wrote this part now, though, or I wouldn't have known of the previous.
And in that case I would have missed something.


Funny how the story came to fit the song I was listening to more and more:

YouTube- Terra Naomi's "Say It's Possible"

[Mass Driver]

Ya know this reminds me of that story, a true one, where the parents abandoned their three children and the oldest would take them to the park at night so they could play without the authorities seeing that they didn't have parents. That kind of thing unites the children, but they still have some deep emotional scars to deal with.

You're doing a great job with this story. I hope you write a lot more chapters for it and that you do...
Keep Writing.

MD

[Adam]

Very nice to see a new installment of this tale!

[SimonSiro6]

wow, this is really good. I hope you continue it!

[philat99]

Thanks for such a heart-rending story. I hope you continue further chapters a bit more often.
Mike

[Daisuke]

Thanks everyone. Hoping to get another chapter done soon.