Chapter 6

thanks to Jim for editing!

Frank bit into a fresh ham sandwich as he stood on his front porch and looked across the lake towards the red roof. Oliver had said he'd come over again today, but so far he hadn't shown up, and Frank was getting antsy. For all he knew, Oliver could have told his parents what had happened yesterday, and they'd changed their minds about letting him come over. Then again, after yesterday Frank needed to give Oliver more credit than that, he decided. And he did. It was simply easier to concern himself with Oliver's whereabouts than to think about his other problems. Like David.

It had been on the tip of Frank's tongue that morning to tell Mr. Crook who he suspected of being responsible for yesterday's unexpected events. He probably would have, too, if it wasn't for the fact that he couldn't actually prove that it had been David; and then there was the fact that he completely doubted Crook's dependability, anyway. Even Frank's mom pointed out that the man probably wasn't fit to take on the responsibility of a dog, let alone the duties of an officer of the law. Frank had to agree with her. Although, Crook's mention of the photography club had caught Frank's attention, and for a good part of the morning he'd been wondering if he could seek out more information about the group in town.

"Frank?"

Frank glanced back at his sister, flashing her a welcoming smile. He'd been trying to be extra nice to her since yesterday afternoon.

"Hey."

"Mom wants to know if you're ready for lunch."

"Already taken care of," Frank replied as he held up the remainder of his sandwich before shoving it greedily into his mouth.

"Oh," Rudy replied, but didn't go back into the house. Instead, she stared out at the lake. Frank frowned. He couldn't help being worried about her. She'd been afraid to sleep in her own room the night before, and hadn't at all been comforted by the sheriff's visit. "There's a cat under my bed," she said. "He hissed at me when I tried to get him out."

"Be careful," Frank warned. "Some of them are kind of wild."

"Will you get it out for me?"

"Sure," Frank agreed.

Rudy sighed as she moved to stand next to him. "I'm bored, Frank."

He smiled at that. "You're the one who didn't want to go back to camp today."

"I hate it there. It's stupid. Is Oliver coming over today?"

"Maybe. I think so."

"Can I go with you and Oliver somewhere?" Rudy asked.

Frank looked at her, stomping down the urge to say no. if Oliver came over, there was a lot that Frank wanted to say to him, and none of it was meant for his little sister's ears.

"We'll see," he told her, just as his mom came outside to interrupt them.

"We have a phone, we have a phone," she said in a sing-song voice. She was also hopping around like an over-caffeinated cheerleader, which had Frank rolling his eyes. She just grinned and ruffled his hair in response as she repeated herself one more time. "We have a phone. So, who should we call first? Grandpa? Uncle Chris? One of your friends, one of mine? Who wants to go first?"

"Daddy!" Rudy cut in as she rushed back into the house. Jessica sobered while Frank only scowled after his sister.

There were several moments of awkward silence before Jessica tapped her son's arm and gave him an encouraging smile. "Do you want to go in and talk to him, Frank? It's been a while. I'm sure he'd like to hear from you."

Frank gave his mom a look that clearly stated his opinion on the matter, although he held back from expressing it out loud. "I'm gonna go take a walk," he announced.

"Now?"

"Yeah. Now."

Jessica frowned, looking pointedly at the scab blemishing her son's top lip. "Promise you'll stay close."

Frank rolled his eyes and made a show being completely unconcerned with his mom's worrying as he kissed her cheek and gave her a short nod. "I won't be gone that long," he promised, but then stopped halfway down the stairs to look back. "Hey, Mom? Are you going back into town today?"

"I'm not sure. Why? Is there something you need?"

Frank shrugged. "Not really. Just let me know if you do, okay? I think I'll wanna go with."

"Sure, honey," she agreed.

Frank turned to leave once more, but paused again for a different reason as he faced the lake. Not far off a familiar little motor boat was headed for their side of the water with one dark-haired passenger.

"It looks like you'll have company on your walk," Jessica commented.

"I'll see you later, Mom," Frank said, and instead of heading off into the woods on his own, he started walking towards the low-lying bridge that Oliver liked to dock at. By the time he reached it, Oliver, with his messy hair and big crooked smile, was climbing out with a lightweight backpack strapped to his back as he waved to Frank.

"Hi, Frank! My mom said I could come over by myself today, but I have to come home at four o'clock. I brought your clothes back. Do you want them now?"

"That's okay," Frank replied. "You can give them to me later. Wanna go for a walk?"

"You don't want to go to your house?" Oliver asked, as if he were actually confused by that.

"Not really," Frank admitted. "We got our phone hooked up so Rudy's calling my dad. I don't really wanna be around for it."

"Oh. Okay where are we gonna go walking to?"

"I thought I'd ask you that," Frank replied. "You're better at not getting lost than I am."

Oliver smiled. "Okay, Frank."

They walked up the road, past the trails that Frank had already bothered to explore, and for about twenty minutes of that Frank felt guilty for not being the best of company. He'd used most of the time to vent about his father, something he normally wouldn't have done, but he couldn't quite seem to help it. Oliver was a good listener, and never gave any indication that he thought anything Frank had to say was boring, nor did he jump in and give Frank false reassurances or the well-intended but pushy advice that someone else might have. He simply listened. He also listened when Frank told him about Howard Crook and what the man had said, but instead of adding his thoughts to the situation as Frank had hoped he would, Oliver chose to remain silent.

"He said he'll call if anything comes up, but I doubt it," Frank explained. "I think if I want to figure out who was outside of Rudy's window I'm gonna have to figure out who it was." He paused, and studied Oliver out of the corner of his eye for a long moment. "I mean, I don't know many people with a camera, except David. Do you think... do you have any idea who it might have been, Oliver? I didn't see anything, but I thought maybe if you did..."

"I didn't see anything, Frank," Oliver said at the same time he reached over and took hold of Frank's hand. Frank glanced down at the gesture, a reminder of the physical boundaries they'd crossed the day before. It took him a few more silent steps to realize that he was returning Oliver's grip. He frowned at himself, more than towards the situation.

"Whoever it was could come back," Frank said, realizing that he was sharing a genuine fear with Oliver.

"Maybe they won't, Frank," Oliver replied after some consideration. Frank stopped walking to face him, feeling irritated that Oliver appeared convinced.

"How would you know?" Frank demanded, sounding harsher than he'd intended. He couldn't help it. He wanted answers, and it only aggravated him that everyone had something to hide, maybe even Oliver.

Oliver's brow knitted and he frowned at Frank. "I just don't want you to be upset, Frank. I said that to make you feel better."

Frank stared at his friend for a long moment, and then choked back a laugh. To make him feel better. People told him things that were meant to make him feel better all the time. Like, his mom saying that everything was going to work itself out, or Rudy telling him that he didn't look too bad on a hair day from hell. But, no one but Oliver, Frank imagined, would have pointed it out to him.

"Sorry, Oliver. I'm just stressed right now."

"About your dad, Frank?"

"Among other things. Look, Oliver... I know you don't want David to get in trouble, okay? But if you know it was him, then just tell me. I swear I'll just want to talk to him. Maybe if I know why he did it... and then attacked us--you remember he attacked us, don't you? If I just knew..." Frank stopped talking to take in a startled breath when he suddenly found Oliver's mouth on his own, and with a gentle hand to the other boy's chest, he pushed him away. "Oliver, stop, I'm trying..."

Oliver suddenly released Frank's hand, looking offended enough to get Frank's attention as he crossed his arms and looked at his feet. "Why not, Frank?" he demanded.

Because I'm trying to have a normal conversation, Frank thought. But, instead of saying that out loud, he considered the question and how he wanted to address it. It wasn't like Oliver was asking him why he didn't want to be interrupted. "Okay..." Frank said slowly, allowing himself to catch up with the situation. "Yesterday..."

"It was okay to kiss you yesterday," Oliver cut in.

"Yeah, well maybe we shouldn't have done that," Frank replied. He reached out to place a comforting hand on Oliver's shoulder, but Oliver only shrugged him off. "Oliver..."

"You said you liked me, Frank."

"I know I did... and I still do, but I was thinking about it, and maybe I shouldn't have... maybe we..."

"David said you were just using me," Oliver said bitterly, surprising Frank as the other boy met his eyes again.

"What?"

"You don't really like me, do you? You were just using me, Frank."

Frank took a physical step back when faced with the accusing look on Oliver's face and he shook his head, dumbfounded. "No, that's not it. That's the thing, Oliver, I don't want to use you. That's why..." Frank released a something akin to a growl that sounded rather grumpy, and stopped himself from saying what he might regret later when Oliver appeared confused. Frank didn't think Oliver would like being told what had really been on his mind.

It wasn't that Frank didn't like kissing Oliver. In fact, it seemed to him that he'd liked it too much. He liked a lot about Oliver a little too much, he was beginning to realize. He liked the smell of lemons, the soft messy hair, the often-laughing hazel eyes and the big, crooked grin that seemed more charming every time he saw it. Physically, he saw Oliver for what he was. An appealing young man who Frank could see himself doing a lot of things with. The problem was the fact that when Frank talked to Oliver, he often felt as if he was speaking to a boy much younger than himself. Not a stupid boy, but one who might not completely understand what those kisses meant. Of course, there was no nice way to say any of this to Oliver. Frank was definitely smart enough to realize he was walking on thin ice over the subject, and was forced to do the best he could, hoping that Oliver would understand.

"I do like you, Oliver... and I wouldn't use you, okay? I just thought that maybe we shouldn't do that anymore because I don't want... I don't want to take advantage of you, because I care about you. Make sense?"

"No, Frank."

Frank ran both hands through his hair, wishing that he could rewind the entire conversation and start over while Oliver studied him searchingly.

"You can't take advantage of me," Oliver finally said, and when Frank looked at him questioningly, he smiled. "And if you take advantage of me when you kiss me, then I like it." Oliver reached for Frank's hand, taking him off guard again when he suddenly sat down, seeming unconcerned with anything that might be on the ground beneath him before he looked up at Frank expectantly. "I like you a lot, Frank. I don't want David to be right."

Frank forced himself to sit on the ground because Oliver was still gripping his hand, and became annoyed when the moisture from the recent rain soaked through the back of his jeans, but tolerated it. "He's not right, Oliver," he insisted. "You are my friend," he added sincerely, only to find that Oliver was no longer paying attention to him. "Oliver?" Frank paused when he realized that Oliver was removing the backpack from his back and opening it in his lap. He glanced inside at the contents, and then at Frank.

"David says he's my only friend," Oliver said in nearly a whisper, as if he didn't want to be overheard, despite the seclusion. "It's because we're the same, Frank. He says we don't have friends. Were not supposed to... but you're here now, and I want things to be different. I don't want David to get in trouble anymore. Here. Here, Frank. Don't be mad at him anymore."

Frank watched, curious and somewhat nerve-racked as Oliver removed a plastic bag from his backpack containing a thin stack of what were obviously photographs. He held the bag out for Frank, and forgetting the meaning of patience, Frank all but snatched them from Oliver's hand and forced himself to look down at the first image. It wasn't the horror he'd been expecting.

"David took that one for me," Oliver explained. "But I don't want it if it makes you angry, Frank. You can have it. You can have all of them. I tried to find them all, Frank."

Frank unzipped the plastic bag and removed the photo he'd been aware of. The picture Oliver had told him about, where he was on his bike. What startled Frank was that the photo seemed to have been taken at close range, since there weren't many trees obstructing the image, and the idea of David getting so close without Frank realizing it was unsettling. But, other than that, the image seemed rather innocent. That's probably why Frank found himself holding it out for Oliver when the other boy seemed nervous over his reaction.

"It's yours," Frank said. "Keep it if you want."

"You don't care?"

"I don't care," Frank insisted, and turned his attention to the next photo as Oliver quickly took the picture of Frank, as if he thought it would be snatched back at any moment. It nearly was, too, but only because Frank was startled by the next one. He recognized it as the day they'd moved in. He was standing with Rudy, both of them looking rather depressed and disappointed in front of their new home. And if Frank hadn't known any better, he would have thought they'd posed for the picture. Facing the camera, their eyes seeming focused on the lens. It didn't seem possible. The next picture was the same, only Frank's mother was the subject, looking tired, but still more cheerful than her offspring. Her eyes were looking right through the picture at Frank. He frowned, wondering how none of them knew they were being photographed. "How did he do this?" Frank demanded, without looking up.

"David knows how to use a camera, Frank," Oliver replied, as if it were obvious.

Frank continued to flip through, deciding that most of the pictures had been taken his first week there. There were some of him exploring the trails either alone or with Rudy, and one where he was kissing his mom goodbye as she got in the car to head to town. And the more he looked the more it became apparent that he was the main focus in the images. The photographs were decidedly unsettling, but there weren't any taken through the windows of Frank's house. He was disappointed, feeling that he still lacked the proof he'd been hoping to find. Frank was beginning to realize that he didn't just think it had been David. He hoped it was.

He knew it was a switch from thinking that David was a victim of his parents, and it wasn't that Frank had completely ruled that out, either. He remembered the unsocialized boy who'd been suspicious of an ice cream cone, and still felt sympathy. But, after hearing his mother mention that David might be responsible for mistreating Oliver, Frank found himself developing a quick bias against him. For Frank, it would make sense that David was the one sneaking around his house, especially now if Oliver was right when he said that David believed they only had each other. Maybe, Frank thought, David was jealous of his friendship with Oliver. It would go to his mom's theory. And, as Frank thought of the attack the day before, recalling how their attacker had targeted Oliver first, he couldn't help wondering if it really was Oliver's brother. Jealous and angry brother. It could all make sense, if only Frank could prove it. If he proved it, then... well, Frank wasn't sure what was supposed to come after that. Maybe he could help Oliver, because he was convinced that Oliver was in need of some sort of help. And if anything, he'd sleep easier at night.

Frank suddenly became aware of the cool breeze striking his face, and the hair at his nape prickled as he looked up, feeling crowded by the towering trees. He quickly slipped the photographs back into their bag and then placed them in his pocket as he got to his feet and held a hand down for Oliver. "Come on," he insisted, realizing a strong urge to get out of there. "Let's get back to my place, okay?"

Oliver took Frank's hand, accepting the assistance off the forest floor, but seemed put off when Frank placed a firm hand on his shoulder to guide him back the way they'd come with a noticeable amount of force. "Is something the matter, Frank?" he asked, looking around curiously when Frank began to look over his own shoulder.

"No... I mean... I just get the creeps out here, you know?"

Oliver shook his head. "No, Frank."

Frank sighed. "Let's just go. You have to be home at four, right?"

"Yeah. Four o'clock, Frank."

"Okay, well, maybe we have the time to watch a movie or something before then."

Oliver smiled. "Okay, Frank."

"Frank! Dad wants to talk to you!" Rudy called through the house, her voice nearly fading before it reached Frank's bedroom where he calmly pushed back his bed sheets, walked barefooted across his bedroom floor, and slammed his door so hard that he was certain that the people in town could hear it.

That should get the point across, Frank decided as he yawned, stretched, and headed back to bed for another hour of sleep. It was another Saturday morning, and for days now, ever since their phone had been connected, Rudy had been making a point of calling their father. He'd even called them a few times, which made Frank rather eager to avoid answering the telephone. He didn't want to talk to his dad, and the fact that the man suddenly wanted to talk to him didn't make a whole lot of sense to Frank. It wasn't as if the man had wanted to talk when they'd been in the same city, and there was no way that Frank was willing to set himself up for more disappointment by allowing his dad to think that he wanted to talk to him after all that.

He'd just crawled back into bed, pulling the covers nearly over the top of his head, when there was a soft tap on his door. His mother didn't wait for him to answer before she stepped in to check on him, and Frank was forced to open his eyes.

"Are you alright?" Jessica asked.

Frank frowned and wiped some more sleep from his eyes. "Why do you let her talk to him? She's just gonna get hurt."

"I think he's trying, Frank," Jessica replied. "I'm not saying that you have to forgive him if you're not ready to, but maybe..."

"I'll never forgive him."

Jessica sighed. "Okay. Listen, I've got to go to work pretty soon. There's some more pancakes out here if you're hungry, and you don't have to worry about Rudy today. I'm taking her with me so she can meet a friend from camp."

"I thought she didn't have any friends."

"Well, I guess she does now. Seems like a nice enough girl. Do you want to come, too? You've been asking to go."

"No. Oliver's coming over again today." Oliver had been coming over just about every day, a small fact that had helped ease Frank's mind. It was reassuring that Oliver's parents were allowing the visits, and Frank had no intention of missing one.

"Well, you guys have fun, then... just remember, if you go out, or even if you're here..."

"We'll lock the doors," Frank promised. "Can I use the car tonight when you get back?"

"I guess so," Jessica replied, leaning back on the doorframe as she regarded her son. "Where do you plan to take it?"

"I don't know," Frank said grumpily. "I just wanna get out of here for a while. I'll probably shop or go to a movie or something."

"You'll let me know before you leave?"

"Fine. I'll let you know before I leave," Frank agreed with all the hostility of a seasoned teenager. Jessica just smiled, loving him anyway.

Frank stared at the cracks in his ceiling as he waited for his mother to leave, and then he reached into his nightstand drawer and removed the plastic bags of photographs which had been there for nearly a week. Frank had done a lot of staring at them lately, and did some more after removing them from their plastic bag. He'd become quite familiar with the eight images over the last few days. They were beginning to frighten him less and less, only because he'd been walking around his property every morning attempting to discover where David could have hidden to take some of them, and had come up with a range of possibilities. That at least convinced Frank that David didn't have some mutant ability to turn invisible. Very reassuring. Other things, though, were not.

Frank abandoned the idea of getting more sleep as soon as he heard his mom's Subaru drive away from the house, and twenty minutes later he was dressed and outside, staring across the lake at the red roof of Oliver's house with a pair of binoculars borrowed from Rudy. There was too much in the way to get a good view of anything other than the roof and the barn, but when a flash of yellow moving somewhere along the road leading to the house caught Frank's attention, he focused on that. A yellow truck. It appeared that Oliver's parents were leaving, so Frank looked back towards their property, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Martin children. Their boat was visible where it was docked, and he watched it for a few moments, knowing that it would be there for at least another few hours. Oliver usually came over after lunch. That meant that if Frank left for a while, he probably wouldn't miss him.

He went to the shed, and a moment later he was on his bike and on the road, hoping he remembered the easy way to get to the other side of the lake.

The Martin house was quiet, the curtains drawn shut, no light coming from within. Frank frowned, wondering if anyone was home at all. It was possible that Oliver's parents had taken him and David somewhere, but Frank doubted it. From his short conversations with Oliver he already knew that it was Mr. Martin who was most likely to go to town for work. Mrs. Martin worked from home, but on occasion the two of them went out together; but according to Oliver, they usually left him and David at home.

Frank felt hesitant as he climbed the steps and approached the door, and found himself tapping rather than knocking. A moment later he was lifting his fist to try again when he decided that no one would have heard him, but his hand paused in midair as the doorknob began to turn. Frank took a step back, his eyes lifting to a familiar face that made it possible for him to relax, and he smiled back at it. "Hey, Oliver. I know you were gonna come over later, but I was wondering if you wanted to come over early. It's just about warm enough for swimming," Frank observed. "But, uh, since I'm here, I was wondering if I could talk to David before we left."

Oliver looked back at Frank, his smile slowly fading until it didn't exist at all, and as he leaned back against the front door he crossed his arms in a defensive posture. "So what do you want with David, Frank?"

Frank's eyes narrowed. "David?"

One of David's shoulder's shrugged. "Present. Come to give me grief about my hobby? What's wrong, Frank, don't like to get your picture taken? Personally, I think you're pretty photogenic."

"I just don't like it when someone takes my picture and I don't know about it," Frank retorted. "Especially when they have to sneak around the bushes and peek through someone else's windows. Did you learn how to do that in your stalker's handbook, David?"

David pushed off of the door and took a step forward that Frank interpreted as somewhat threatening, but held his ground.

"You think it was me?" David demanded, sounding incredulously offended.

"Why not?" Frank replied. "Seems like you like sneaking around, and I'm pretty sure I owe you for this, too," he added, indicating his lip, which was still visibly bruised.

David smirked. "If I'd hit you your teeth would be stuck to my knuckles about right now."

The arrogance of the comment aggravated Frank, and suddenly all his frustrations were aimed pointedly at David as he blindly moved forward and gave David's chest a shove. "Wanna prove that, asshole? Go the fuck on. You like pushing people around? Like pushing your brother around? Go ahead. Try me."

Frank didn't get the attack he'd expected, and even wanted. Instead, David made a point to step away as he looked at Frank like he'd lost his mind.

"You think I hurt Oliver?" David sounded as if the very idea was hilarious. "I've never touched him!"

"Then who did?" Frank demanded. "And don't tell me I'm imagining things because a few days ago I saw him! And I don't know what the hell's going on around here but I know it has something to do with you!"

"And why not?" David snapped. "Everything is my fault--but I never touched Oliver!"

"Then who, David?"

"Who do you think?" David growled.

"Are you saying it was your parents?" Frank asked.

David fell silent for a long moment before he shook his head. "No. They wouldn't hurt Oliver. And I ain't got nothing more to say to you, Frank."

David turned and reached for his door, but didn't get it open before Frank grabbed his arm and spun him back around.

"Do they hurt you, David?"

David's eyes met his guest's suspiciously as he shook Frank's hand off and his lip slowly turned up into a scowl. "You don't get it? Do you?"

"What am I supposed to get, David?"

David laughed, and then met Frank's eyes with a seriousness that almost seemed desperate. "Look around you. Look deeper."

Frank sucked in a breath and gripped his hair, suddenly resisting the urge to pull it out. "No. No. You know what, David? If you don't want to talk to me, fine. But if anything else happens to Oliver I swear I'll mention it to everyone who walks past me until someone believes it because believe it or not, I do care about him, and I'd help you too if you could just knock off this cryptic bullshit for five minutes!"

David took an abrupt step forward, startling Frank into silence. "Oliver's not here right now," he said quietly. "Time to leave, Frank."

"David..."

"I don't got no answers for you. Everything else you can see. You're just not looking!" he said, sounding angry over it.

Frank opened his mouth to inform David that he sounded like a crazy person, but then closed it and decided that it wasn't worth the effort as he turned and headed down the front steps. "Just tell Oliver to call me when he gets back," Frank said as he reached his bike and began to walk it towards the road.

"Hey Frank," David suddenly called, causing Frank to pause and look back at him. "Did it ever occur to you that whoever was looking in your windows wasn't looking to take a picture of anyone in your family?"

"You think..."

Frank didn't get to finish his response when David turned, walked into his house, and gave an obvious dismissal as he slammed the front door.

Frank didn't know what time it was when he arrived home, but he knew that something wasn't quite right when he got there. His mom's car was parked on the side of the house, which he hadn't expected. She should have been working until later that afternoon. When he saw that the front door had been left carelessly wide open, he felt a knot rise in his throat as he rushed towards it.

"Mom!" Frank called as he entered, looking around for any signs of trouble. "Mom!"

"In here, honey!" was the muffled response, and as he reached the kitchen he looked over the scene with a good amount of confusion. With good reason, he thought. The scene at the kitchen table was strange enough.

He had to look twice when he noticed not one, but two redheaded girls at the table sharing peanut-butter sandwiches. He was about to demand if Rudy had multiplied before both girls looked over their shoulders and he saw that one had glasses and a lot more freckles. He shook off the oddity of the picture they made and looked towards his mother, who was attempting to wrestle something out of the garbage disposal she'd insisted they install after moving in. Frank strode across the kitchen and pulled her hand out of the drain before he reached in himself and found the mangled spoon that had gotten trapped.

"Thank you," Jessica said once he retrieved it. "I feel like I've been trying to pull that out forever. Where were you at?"