Enter: Yakko

Beep! Beep! Beep! Bee-CRASH

And another alarm clock bites the dust. I force my legs out of bed and push myself into a sitting position. Five thirty. Its five thirty in the morning! Every fiber of my being screams 'go back to bed'. My nice warm bed. Oh what I wouldn't give to lay back down and sleep for another four hours. Instead I get up, exit my room, and start down the hall.

"Better get used to it Yakko…" I, quite literally, tell myself. And I know I will, weather I like it or not. I've got to get up at five thirty in the morning for Dots weigh-in and pre-breakfast for as long as she's in recovery – every single day.

I push open the door to Dots room. She's curled up in bed, covers drawn up to her chin, fast asleep. She's the cute one all right…

"Dot…come on, wake up." I whisper, shaking her shoulder. Her eyes flutter open, she mumbles a few words I'm not sure I want to know the meaning of, and burrows deeper into her quilt. I want to flop down and fall asleep myself.

"Dot…" I whine "It's too early for this, just get out of bed ok? I don't like this any more than you do." A few moments go by before she finally scoots out of her bed and follows me to the bathroom. I've got to weigh her every morning and record every number. Dr. Hark wants her to gain two pounds a week until she's reached her 'target' weight, thirty pounds heavier than she is now. As with every other aspect of this, there are rules for weigh-ins. Dot isn't allowed any food or water before the weigh-in, I've got to watch her step on the scale, and I've got to make sure she isn't holding anything (rocks, for example) to make the number higher.

"Its freezing!" moans Dot as her bare feet come into contact with the cold tiles of the bathroom floor.

"Well get through with this and you can grab a blanket." I squeeze into the bathroom behind her. "Scale time." I command. Dot steps onto the scale with unusual complacency. Perhaps the early hour has taken her edge off. Either way, I'm glad for it, and peer over her shoulder so I can see the number. Its all I can do to keep my mouth from dropping. I didn't know she was that light…But I record it all the same and, true to my word, let Dot dash into her room and grab a blanket to wrap herself in.

"Better?" I ask as she comes into view.

"M-hm…" She murmurs. Her eyelids are still drooping. I put my arm around her and lead her downstairs and into the kitchen. Now I've got to make that 'boost' stuff Dr. Hark sent us. Dot sits on the counter while I get out the big container of powder. She's watching me like an owl now, and I can tell she is looking for the label that shows all the calories. I turn the container so that she cant see.

"This stuff actually smells pretty good." I tell her. And it does. Boost comes in different flavors. This one is strawberry banana. She doesn't say a word, and I don't know if its just my imagination, but I can feel the tension in the room rise a bit. I finish stirring the powder into the milk, now the consistency of melted icecream, and hold it out to her. She doesn't make a move to take it. Great. I really don't want to do this…

"Dot, either you get it from this cup or you get it from a tube. Either way you're drinking it."

"I don't think I can…I'm still full from dinner last night…" She shrinks away from the cup as if it were poison. I really don't want to be mean to her, but this is my responsibility. I force myself to think of that number on the scale, grab her hand and shove the cup into it with as much force as I can without spilling it.

"I don't have a problem asking Dr. Hark to put the feeding tube in…" I growl in my most menacing voice. I mean business. Dot looks up at me with an odd expression. Part surprise, part hate, part…fear? She looks at the cup in her hand and slowly raises it to her lips, taking the tiniest possible sip. She coughs and shakes her head violently. She's on the verge of tears.

"I-I cant, I'm sorry, I just cant!" She goes to dump the stuff in the sink, but I catch her arm before she does and take the cup from her. Boost in one hand, Dots arm in the other, I make my way to the tower door ignoring the kicking and screaming coming from my sister.

"We're going to Dr. Hark." I say flatly. And I really mean it.

"No!" Dot squeaks, digging her heels into the ground. She even lands a good kick in my side that I have to work pretty hard to pretend doesn't faze me. I'm actually opening the door when she dissolves.

"Yakko, please! Don't!" She coughs "Fine, I'll drink it, give it here!" I stop, hand on the door handle, and face her. She's sobbing, but holds out her hand.

"Table." I order, and she walks over to slump down in her chair. I place the cup in front of her. Half an hour later, she finishes it all. Between every sip was a new wave of tears, but I'm patient and I sat with her through it all. She's still crying when she's finished; with new gusto even. She curls up in the chair and puts her fuzzy pink blanket to her face. All the feelings of guilt I managed to hold back while dragging her to Dr. Harks come back. How could I be so mean to her?! Good god, I know I had to be unyielding, but I didn't have to make her cry… "Dot, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry…" I put a hand on her shoulder. She squirms out of my reach. The caring smile disappears from my face. Fine. She can be that way. I tell myself. As long as she's getting better.

Her tears subside and her head droops down onto the table. It takes me a moment or two to realize she's fallen back asleep. Lucky. Meanwhile I go to my room, get the note book Dr. Hark gave me and start to write. I've got to record Dots actions to meals and stuff, and I don't intend to spare any details.

Thud Thud Thud Wakko comes down the stairs. He might as well have been wearing lead shoes.

"Dot had better recover soon…I don't think I can take waking up at 6:30 every morning…" He slurs. I roll my eyes.

"Yeah, your one to talk. We wake up at 5:30." Wakko glowers and drags himself into the kitchen; he has to start on Dots breakfast. Waffles and eggs. Once again I had to threaten to have the feeding tube in to get her to eat. Eventually, with equal parts bullying and coaxing, we got it all down her. Wakko did most of the hand-holding 'you can do it' stuff. Most of the bullying was from me. A small part is beginning to worry that she will begin to resent me for all this. After all, I am being really harsh on her, when usually I'm a bit of a pushover. More than a few times during Wakkos breakfast I just wanted to say 'fine, you've eaten enough.' And stop her (an my) suffering. But a larger part of me knows that if I did that I'd be failing her as a brother. These thoughts stay with me al the way up until 9:00 when I've got to take Dot in for her first checkup and appointment with Scratchy. I wait downstairs with Wakko while Dot gets dressed.

"This is harder than I thought…" muses Wakko, out of the blue.

"Being a brother is hard." I say. Right now, nothing could be more true.