Play The Field.

It's amazing how fast time can go by once you get settled into a proper routine. Frank came over less and less, as Linda seemed to have smartened up for the time being and allowed him to see his father on the weekends, like he was supposed to. Every once in awhile, Frank would invite me along on his visits but truthfully, I always felt a little awkward and out of place when I did go. It felt strange, not having his dad around and, for both of us, it took awhile to sink in.

It also got me wondering what would happen if my mother and father ever broke up. What would Gerard and I do? Who would we stay with?

The school year went by and summer approached, bringing soccer back with it. Even though I should have still been playing with the younger children, my coach had promoted me to the "caterpillar" team, as they so called it, for kids in grades three and five. It was... mind blowing, to say the least, to be so young and playing amongst these older kids. I tried desperately to fit in amongst them, watching everything they did and trying to imitate them, so they'd have some respect for me, the little boy going into grade two. I copied their footwork and ran their drills, watching the gleam in their eyes as I beat them all. I was a swift child, that was for sure.

But that whole summer, Frank just got worse. His mom was spiraling deeper and deeper into a mess of... well, whatever it was and Frank was retreating further and further into himself. He wasn't the same boy he used to be; whatever playful side that he had previously possessed had completely disappeared thanks to his mother.

We were moving into a new era and grade two was sure to hold some surprises.

***

The first surprise came on the very first day of school, when I learned that Frank wasn't going to be in my class.

Apparently, the school decided to try something new and split the grade twos up into a grade one/two class and a grade two/three class, based on whether or not they thought the student would benefit from being around the higher grade. I was placed with the older kids while Frank stayed behind. I spent most of the first day holding barely back tears, trying to act like the tough little boy I desperately wanted to be.

"It'll be okay Frankie," I murmured, hugging him before we had to split up into our separate classrooms. "I'll see tonight if Mommy can do something about it." I knew my mother would understand the situation, she'd understand that me and Frank needed this. We had never made any other friends and it was terrifying, losing the only support network that we had. At lunch and our recesses, we sat in the corner of the playground away from everyone else and cried. When the bell rang, our respective teachers literally had to pry us apart from each other. Time itself taunted us; the second hand on the clock crept forward at an excruciating pace, the numbered face practically laughing at me.

My mother came to pick us up and, with one glimpse of our tear stained faces, she immediately marched back into the principal's office, kitten heels clicking against the polished linoleum. She sat calmly while the principal finished up a phone call, smiling down at our red eyes and locked hands. Her back was perfectly straight, her hands clasped in her lap. As soon as the principal emerged from his inner office though, straightening his glasses, she stood up and stared at him with such intensity that he seemed to... wilt like a dying flower. My mother rarely got mad but when she did, it was terrifying. Even to this day, I still can't think of anyone more intimidating than my mother when she was pissed.

"How may I help you Mrs. Way?" He was a small, rather mousy looking man; even his voice resembled a mouse's squeak. She was only an inch or so taller than him but as he leaned away from her, it looked more like a mile.

"Mikey and Frank will be in the same class," she said simply, staring into his eyes. Face turning red, he cast his own gaze to the floor. I thought that he was a terrible principal. Yes, my mom was scary but didn't he have to deal with angry parents on a daily basis? Frank squeezed my hand and I squeezed back, smiling at him. Despite his smile, his eyes were sad again. I knew that if there was any yelling, he would break down.

Thankfully though, my mom got her point across without even raising her voice. Within five minutes, we were back in the car and back into each other's classes. We held hands the entire car ride home; my young mind thought that if we let go, we'd be separated again. For the ten minutes it took to get home, life was perfect.

Then we pulled onto my street and Frank had to get out of the car. His mother was home for once and I could see the happiness die in his eyes. It made me sick and I wanted nothing more than to bring home with me so that he would always be happy. My mom wouldn't have cared if I asked for him to stay over; Frank was over whenever his mother was gone, which was quite often. But Linda was standing in the doorway of his home, wearing a pink bathrobe and cradling a cigarette between her fingers. She didn't bother to acknowledge my mother, even though she had driven home her son for the countless time. She merely waited until Frank had trudged to the top of the steps before hustling him inside, quickly shutting the door behind her.

When Gerard was watching television with Joey, who was once again over, I sat in the window and stared at Frank's house. The sun was disappearing from the sky but no lights came on in his house. After I'd had a bath and put on my pajamas, I rushed for one more look, hoping that I would see him waving out his window or something like that. Instead, I was met with just darkness. If it wasn't for the shadow of Linda's car in the driveway, I would have thought that they had gone somewhere. But somewhere inside that black, hulking house was my best friend and it made me so sad that he was trapped inside.

But children are notorious for their short attention spans and I had mostly forgotten this by the next day. All that mattered was that Frank and I were back together. With him by my side, I didn't need to worry about the weird boy who sat at the back of the class and picked his nose. I didn't have to wonder if the little girls were giggling at me. None of this mattered because I had Frank back and the world made sense again... for a few months.

Only in December did things crack again. This was when Frank ended up in the hospital.