THE NIFTIEST IDEA IN THE WORLD

by

Duckling

Chapter 4

The Chapters

INTRO

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

Laura Hardy brushed an errant blond curl from her sleeping son’s face before she straightened up and replaced the book she had been reading on the shelf. The emotional upheaval of the morning had left the seven year-old exhausted; she had barely read a page and a half to him before he was asleep.  

She smiled down at the little boy fondly. She was proud of both of her sons and loved them dearly. But she realized, as she stood watching her son sleep, that she was allowing them to grow up without her. They no longer did the things that they used to so enjoy- reading together, for example- mainly because Laura had decided she was too busy. Vowing to herself to spend more time with her boys, the petite blonde opened the door and stepped into the hall.  

She came unexpectedly face-to-face with a very forlorn Frank.  

“Joey’s sleeping,” she announced to the dejected nine year-old.  

“Oh,” Frank replied softly. He had been hoping to talk to his brother and to explain that the older boy never dreamed of getting Joey into trouble.  

“I think all of the excitement of the morning got to him,” Laura continued gently.  

“Oh.” This time, the statement was accompanied by a sorrowful little nod.  

“Why don’t you read a book until lunch time? I’ll get your brother up in about an hour when we eat.”  

The boy just looked at his mother, his beautiful brown eyes sad. Laura gave him a little hug and patted him on the shoulder.  

“We all make mistakes honey,” she said kindly. “The thing is to learn from them, so as not to make them again. That’s one of the reasons your dad and I have to punish you.”  

Frank just nodded yet again.  

“Mom, I don’t really want to read. May I just sit and wait for Joey to wake up in his room?” He asked at length. His mother blinked in surprise.  

“I want him to know how sorry I am,” the boy explained. “And I want him to know that I want to be with him.” The nine year-old suddenly scuffed the toe of his shoe against the hardwood floor. “I told him I didn’t want to be with him earlier,” he added, his eyes averted.  

Laura felt her heart warm with pride at the boy’s sincere desire to reassure his younger brother that he still wanted to be with him. Ever since Frank’s birthday a little over a month ago, the smaller boy had struggled to understand his brother’s sudden wish to do things without him. The result had been a much more subdued and dejected seven year-old than was usual, but Laura and Fenton didn’t see how they could force their eldest son to play with the younger one. They had hoped time would ease the pain they saw in Joey’s beautiful blue eyes.  

“I think he will be very happy to know that,” she said softly. “I’ll be back up in an hour, then.”  

She fondly ruffled the dark hair so like her husband’s before continuing down the hall and down the steps.  

Frank quietly pushed his brother’s door open and slipped inside the messy room, closing the door again as softly as he could. He crossed to the bed and lay down beside his brother, propping himself up on his elbow to watch the younger child as he slept.  

He wondered idly what his brother might be dreaming, and hoped fervently that the younger boy wouldn’t have any nightmares. Of course, Frank was right there to comfort him in case it should happen, but Joey’s nightmares tended to be rather intense and the look of utter fear Frank often saw in those wide blue eyes tended to scare the older boy a bit too.  

Just then, Joey gave a soft moan; still asleep, he nestled closer to his brother. Frank felt a wave of awe wash over him as he realized that even though the younger boy was unaware of his presence, he still wanted to be close to his big brother. Reaching out carefully, he touched the younger boy’s hair. He had forgotten how soft the bright hair was; softer than the fur on is favorite teddy-bear even; not that he played with it anymore. As he absently stroked his brother’s blond hair, he let his eyelids drift close.  

Some thirty minutes later Frank jerked awake, mildly surprised he had fallen asleep. He looked over at his brother and was startled to see that the younger boy was awake and carefully regarding him, his little face strangely somber.  

“So it’s not a dream,” the blond child whispered at last. “You really are here with me.”  

Frank sat up as he reached out a finger and touched the other boy on the tip of his nose.  “Yeah,” he said, smiling fondly at his little brother.  

“Why?” Joey asked, his blue eyes serious.  

“Why?” Frank echoed, perplexed.  

“Why are you in my room with me? I thought you didn’t want to play with me anymore.” Joey managed to say this with only the barest trace of a quiver in his young voice.  

“Aw, Joey,” the dark-haired boy said softly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for sending you away when you were at Biff’s house, and I’m sorry for getting you into trouble.”  

“So, you’re only here because you’re sorry?” Joe persisted, hope fading from his eyes.  

Frank reached out and ruffled his brother tousled curls. “No,” he continued gently. “I’m here because I missed you. I wanted to be with you. That, and I’m sorry, together.”  

“Really?” Joey asked warily, uncertain that his brother actually meant that. “Why did you miss me?”  

“Yes, really,” Frank answered. “Not at first,” he admitted a bit unhappily. “But later. And now, I really miss you.”  

Joey blinked and struggled to sit up. “How could you miss me now?” He asked curiously. “I’m right here.”  

Frank looked down at the twisted bedspread. “I miss you now because I’m afraid you’re mad at me; and that you’ll stay mad at me.”  

“Not forever,” Joey responded, trying to somehow make his brother feel better.  

“Yeah,” Frank replied glumly, “But I don’t even want you mad at me for a day. Not even a minute. Or a second,” the older boy added after a moment’s thought.  

“Oh.”  

“Well,” Joey continued after a moment of silence. “I’m not really mad at you.”  

Frank looked over at him, his large brown eyes full of sadness.  

“Not anymore,” the younger boy added, deciding he had better be honest about the fact that he had been angry and hurt.  

“Really?” Now it was Frank’s turn to ask.  

Joey sat for a minute, his face screwed up in thought before he looked back at his brother and smiled. “Yeah, really.”  

Suddenly, Frank lunged forward and caught his brother up in a tight hug.  

Joey basked in this unexpected display of affection, grateful to have his brother wanting to be with him.  

Still pressed close to his elder brother’s thin chest, Joey whispered after a moment, “But I could have told you it wasn’t safe.”  

Frank squeezed the other boy even tighter. “I know,” he said with a sigh. “Even I knew that.”  

“Then why’d you do it?” Joey wiggled back to look up in his brother’s face.  

Frank sighed. “Because Biff said it was the niftiest idea in the world, and I guess I believed him.”  

“Oh,” Joey replied.  

“Um, Frank?” the small boy asked after a minute.  

“MmmHmm?”  

“What does nif- nif-”  

“Niftiest mean?” Frank finished for his brother.  

“Yeah.”  

“Greatest. Coolest. Something like that.”  

“Oh.”  

 “You thought that tripping someone was a niftiest idea?” Joey asked incredulously.  

Frank hung his head. “Well, at the time we didn’t really think anyone would trip.”  

“Then why’d you put it on the sidewalk?”  

Frank shrugged. “I dunno. Couldn’t think of anywhere else to put it I guess.”  

“Oh.” Joey wasn’t fully satisfied by his brother’s responses, but decided to switch topics anyway.  

“So,” he continued suddenly hesitant, “You’re not mad at me?”  

“Why would I be mad at you?” Frank asked confused.  

“Because I hid by Mrs. Addleson’s flower and she saw me and took me home and Mom and Dad found out at lunch.” Joey only stopped because he had run out of breath.  

“Of course I’m not mad,” Frank stated solemnly. “In fact, you’re the one who’s supposed to be mad at me.”  

“I am?”  

Frank couldn’t help but smile at his brother’s response.  

“Yes.” He answered with a little laugh. “You’re the one who everyone believed made the trap. You’re the one who got fussed at.”  

“And shaken,” Joey added solemnly.  

“Shaken?” Frank hadn’t heard this bit. “What happened?”  

Leaning close to his brother again, Joey recounted the whole encounter with Mrs. Addleson to the older boy.  

“Joey!” Frank exclaimed when he had finished. “We have to tell Mom and Dad. Mrs. Addleson has to know that you aren’t to blame.”  

Joey just regarded the dark-haired child with wide eyes. “But then she’ll learn it was you.”  

“So,” Frank responded, trying not to care that the neighbors would know the trap was his. “At least she’ll know the truth.”  

The blond boy smiled up at his brother. “Okay, “he said simply, hopping up from his bed. “Let’s go tell Dad.”

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