I don't have a stake in the 'Thunderbirds'. I've taken them out of their tissue filled boxes to play with for a while. I promise not to damage them and will put them back when I've finished.

1

John wrapped his arms around himself, desperate for any crumb of comfort and listened to the footsteps fading down the hall. He supposed he'd be walking home alone, having missed the school bus again. He doubted Scott would have waited for him; he'd stopped doing that months ago. He couldn't call grandpa to get a lift, Ed had taken his cell phone and John hadn't dare tell his father he'd lost it; although that would be preferable to telling the truth. Their father was due home tonight, and he felt sure the question of the phone would be raised. If only John could have confided in him - in anyone, but his father had his hands full coping with the two youngest and his work, besides, no-one would believe him. If he'd died with his mother, he wouldn't be suffering now and he wouldn't have been missed by the others, not while they were mourning her.

He winced as the results of the latest attack began to make themselves known. He'd managed to keep the bruising hidden from his family, and they hadn't noticed that he'd more or less stopped eating. It wasn't that he didn't want to eat, he did, but he'd only been able to manage liquids for weeks now. The weight loss was dramatic; a couple of jumpers underneath Scott's old sweater covered that up and had the bonus of absorbing some of the impact of the beatings. Some days they left him alone, and those were the worst of all as he was waiting for the attack that didn't come, he couldn't be sure he was safe until he walked through the door at home.

All in all, he was successfully managing to keep from his family how badly he was doing. They thought he was coping but in reality he was slipping away from them.

Ed McCarthy and his 'friends' had singled him out - why John couldn't figure. Ed had been in Scott's 'circle' for as long as he could remember and before mom's death he'd never been anything but polite though he'd occasionally tease John as did Scott. He wasn't a natural 'social animal' but his mom had encouraged him to form a couple of friendships that made him fit in a little better. After her death that encouragement disappeared and his isolation may have made him a target. Whatever the reason, it was known only to Ed and he wasn't about to tell John.

Still, Spring Break began tonight; an all too brief respite from the emotional torture Ed and his cohorts inflicted on him. The school yard was empty by the time he'd found the courage to leave the building; it was as he'd thought - Scott had gone ahead. He'd become used to walking on his own, when he'd shed the tears he couldn't at any other time, but it was getting harder, he was becoming weaker through not eating; and the icing on the cake today was it was raining - heavily. In a few minutes, he was soaked through and the waterlogged clothing drew away the little heat his body managed to generate.

Then he heard it - the sound of its engine was so distinctive; his grandfather's old pickup. It swung round and stopped next to him; grandpa rolled down the window as far as it would go, "Come on, boy. Let's get you home before you catch your death." he called. John gratefully eased himself into the comfortable interior, squatting on the floor to get the full benefit of the heater's blast - and avoid wetting the seat. "So what was the reason this time?" the old man demanded.

"Just talking" he muttered, knowing it was partly true; Ed had done all the talking.

"Well, yuh know what your grandma's like fer worrying', 'specially 'bout you, boy."

"I'm sorry." He looked up, genuine regret in his eyes, he didn't want to cause anyone else pain, it was the reason he was keeping it all to himself.

"Let's try an' get home before your dad."

"Like that idea." he gave one of his rare grins, looking upwards through his eyelashes as his mother used to.

"Wont have time for a bath, best make it a shower, and get out of those wet things. Don't you have anything of your own?" his grandfather asked.

"I do it to wind Scott up." he lied

"Aint workin', boy. Give it up."

John rocked on his heels, trying to find a more comfortable position before deciding there wasn't one. He was beginning to really hurt now, the cold had stopped the flow of blood and most of the feeling in his chest, that feeling was now returning with a vengeance and it took him all his time from yelping as they drove over the potholes.

They arrived home at last, and John's heart sank when he saw his father's SUV in the driveway. His grandfather must have noticed the look on his face as he said, "You go to your room, boy, and I'll make yer excuses. Yuh need to get out those wet things anyway. Can't have yuh comin' the table like that."

"Thanks" he said as he dropped out of the pick up and walked painfully to the front door.

He was almost at the top of the stairs when he heard his dad's voice, "John!" He turned reluctantly and made his way downstairs again, each step vibrating through his body making his ribs ache.

"I'm sorry I'm late, sir. I missed the bus."

"I assumed that John, the question is, why? What was so important that you couldn't be bothered to get the bus home and your grandfather had to go out in atrocious conditions to get you?"

"I'm sorry." He couldn't look his father in the eye and kept his head down, his eyes examining the floor.

"Sorry doesn't even begin to…" Jeff noticed his son was beginning to shiver, "You'd better get upstairs and take those wet things off. And put something decent on, you're a disgrace in that."

"Yes dad. Sorry." he made his painful way back upstairs, catching his grandfather's eye as he did so. His grandfather shrugged his shoulders and mouthed 'I tried'. John acknowledged him; it hadn't been grandpa's fault, it was no-one's fault; it was just the way things were; and once again he wished he could have died in the same accident that had claimed his mother.

On reaching his room, his first act was to spread out his books on the radiator to dry which took him much longer than he'd anticipated so he didn't have time for a shower. He proceeded to peel off his wet things and put on some slightly less baggy clothing as he didn't need all the extra sweaters underneath, "Just the one" he told himself. He looked at his clock and froze; he was late, he would miss the soup, the only course he could manage. His day was going from bad to worse! There was no way he could do anything more than a slow shuffle, his ribs hurt, his head was beginning to pound and his throat was like sandpaper and as he glanced at his reflection in the mirror he could see the beginnings of the red flush to his skin that promised a temperature by morning. Yep, it was definitely getting worse by the minute!

He arrived at the dinner table as his grandmother was serving up the roast and he could feel his stomach beginning to rebel. "I'm sorry I'm late…" he began only to be cut short by a glare from his dad.

"I thought I told you to put something decent on" Jeff scolded.

"I was in a hurry, sorry." He apologised as he slipped into his chair

His brothers were conducting their usual noisy performance, tonight of course they were competing for their dad's attention; they were welcome to it John mused, all he wanted to do was get back to the sanctuary of his room. Alan and Gordon were arguing, when Alan's elbow made contact with John's ribs and he couldn't stop himself from crying out. The tears were burning his eyes, but he wouldn't cry, he couldn't cry, not in front of everyone. Once he started he might not be able to stop. "Watch what you're doing!" he shouted. Alan began to cry.

"John, apologise to your brother" Jeff instructed.

"Why?" John retorted, "He's the one misbehaving and I have to apologise!"

Jeff looked at his son, was this his John, or had he been abducted by aliens and a doppelganger left in his place? John was the calm one, the one he hadn't had to worry about, the one who'd adjusted to his mother's absence far more easily than anyone else. "You heard me. Alan is younger than you; I will sort him out in my own way. Now, would you please apologise for making him cry."

"I'm sorry for making you cry Alan." John glared at his youngest brother.

"Now, Alan, apologise to John for bumping into him"

"Sorry John." Alan said grudgingly, "but I hardly touched you, you wimp!"

"Alan!"

"Sorry for calling you a wimp"

John began to push his food around the plate and grandma, well used to John's aversion to solid food offered to get him some soup.

He will eat what's in front of him, mom" Jeff interrupted, "You went to the trouble of cooking it, he can eat it."

"Just when I think it can't get any worse - it does" John thought.

"Dad, you remember Ed McCarthy?" Scott asked.

"Yes, nice boy, very polite"

John's heart sank thirty feet below floor level.

"We've been paired for a project and we thought we'd try to get a head start on next term. Well, I was wondering if he could sleep over a couple of nights, get something started."

"No!" shouted John, dropping his fork loudly onto his plate. He felt seven pairs of eyes staring at him. It wasn't fair, it just wasn't fair! He didn't get any peace at school, now there would be no peace at home either.

"John, that's enough. What on earth has got into you? Scott is entitled to have his friends stay here, just as you can have yours."

"But he doesn't have any, dad" said Gordon, wanting to back Alan up against John, "He thinks he's too good to be friends with anyone, doesn't need anybody, do you Johnny? Ed is fun, you're not!"

"Will you all behave or I will go back to the office Monday instead of taking you out!"

"May I go to my room dad," John asked, "I'm not feeling very well."

"Go on, Johnny, run away again" taunted Gordon

"He is looking flushed." Grandma tried to help the obviously distressed John.

"Please, dad!"

"I'll be up to speak to you after dinner" Jeff dismissed his second son.

John gratefully made his exit from the room. He called in at the bathroom, took two aspirin from the medicine cabinet and helped himself to a glass of water. On arriving in his room, he closed his door and leaned against it, as though he were trying to shut the rest of the world out, then flopped onto his bed and swallowed the tablets hoping they would give him some relief from the pounding in his head. Opening the top drawer of his bedside table, he took out the scarf that had belonged to his mother, the last physical contact he had with her. He curled up on his bed and drifted off to sleep; and it was in this position that Jeff found his son an hour later. The cuffs of his sweater had pulled up over John's wrists and Jeff drew a sharp intake of breath at how thin the boy's arms were.

He began to realise John was in deep trouble, and Jeff felt guilt at missing the signs. John didn't demand attention like the others, but he needed it just the same. The self-sufficiency was a mask to cover how much he needed his family. His mother had known that and had made time for her son, but Jeff had simply been relieved that John didn't need his time.

"I'm sorry, son, I've let you down." his fingers brushed hair away from John's eyes, and he felt the heat from the boy's face.

Gently, he eased the scarf from John's fingers, placing it in the half open drawer. Then Jeff drew the covers over his sleeping son, resolving that tomorrow he would begin to make time for him - and to find out why he didn't want Ed staying over.

The light went out and the door closed. John stirred feverishly but didn't wake.