Chapter One

Mom's Not Right And Now We're Off To See The Wizard

The sun rose over the hills, throwing away the darkness to the other side of the world as the citizens of Pleasantview awakened for yet another day. But this wasn't just yet another day. For Dustin Richard Broke, it was the least anticipated day of the year: his birthday.

As he got out of bed, glancing at his sleeping brother Beau in the bed on the other side of the room, he scratched his head, yawned, and stretched out his arms until he heard his shoulders crack. Today was the one-year anniversary of his father's drowning, Richard "Skip" Broke.

Sitting on the edge of the creaky old bed, he remembered how his father had had too much to drink at his thirteenth birthday, and jumped into the pool to show off for a reason nobody could fathom, drowning. Half-smirking, he also remembered how he had convinced his dad that having a little was okay, since it was both his and his dad's birthday, after all.

It just so happened that, thirteen years before that, on Skip's twenty-second birthday, Dustin was born. August 29th, 1994. So, after a debate over a name, they settled on Dustin, the name of an unlucky relative's evil in-law. (They only found that out later after Dustin did a family history study in the fourth grade). And to Dustin's displeasure, after his father's death and his thirteenth birthday, he'd never had a good day since.

Frowning, Dustin listened for his mother, but didn't hear her up and about like usual. Shaking his head, he got up, tripped on the pinball machine he had got for his tenth birthday, and caught himself before he could do a faceplant.

"Stupid thing," he muttered to himself, accidentally waking up Beau.

Beau yawned. "Wha. . . . ?"

Dustin shook his head. "Morning, kiddo."

"Morning," Beau sighed, half-asleep and going under fast.

As Dustin left the room, he heard an odd sound coming from the bedroom. Running inside, he saw his mother, Brandi, and his littlest brother, Noah, squabbling. Well, more like Brandi was attempting to give him a time out, and Noah was saying gibberish in her general direction as he played with a parcel clumsily wrapped in newspaper.

Brandi turned. "Happy birthday, honey," she said, smiling with only a hint of real emotion. His mother never fared well on special occasions after her husband's death, so Dustin decided to be on his best behaviour to help her out a little.

"Thanks, Mom. What's Noah got there?" Dustin asked, gesturing to the parcel Noah was chewing on.

Brandi sighed, fumbling with her wedding band like she did when she was stressed out and didn't know what to say. Dustin reached down and knelt in front of Noah, who smiled.

"Hey, buddy," Dustin said, tugging gently at the parcel, "I need that now. If you give it to me, you can play with me later on, okay?" He tried his best to sound sincere, and Noah bought it.

"Kay-kay!" Noah squealed, handing over the soggy present. Dustin grimaced, but switched to a smile as Noah looked up at him.

Tearing it open over Brandi's bed, he saw that it was a white box with the word "SimTel" across the top. Opening it, he pulled out a shiny blue and silver cell phone with the number engraved across the back with a bunch of fiddly manuals and chargers spilling out after it.

Finally, something he'd dreamed for, year after tedious year, in the palm of his hand.

Holding the cell phone as careful as fine china, he looked up at his mom, beaming. "How did you pay for this?"

Brandi smiled weakly, putting her arm around Dustin. "I've been saving since your eighth birthday for this, Dustin. It's not like I took money out of the general funds. . . ."

Dustin shook his head, amazed. His mom was so caring, taking out from her measly welfare checks for years to buy Dustin a cell phone, and a good one too.

"Thank you soooooo much, you have no idea -" Dustin started, but stopped when he saw the look on his mother's face. She was tearing up, her smoke gray eyes glazing over as she held her eldest son.

"You look so much like your father today, Dustin. Even your voice. . . . it's like he's there, inside of you, somewhere," Brandi whispered, the tears spilling over as she cried into Dustin's shoulder.

Sighing, he patted his mother's hand. "I am half of him, y'know," he said, but his attempt at humor fell flat as she started to bawl all over Dustin's muscle shirt.

"Oh, my baby, my Dusty. . . ." she muttered, turning him to face her by the shoulders.

Not knowing what to say, Dustin stayed silent.

Finally, she cried herself out. "I just want you to take care of your brothers when I'm gone," she finally said.

Confused, Dustin gave her a look. "What do you mean? Mom, you're thirty-five, not ninety-five. You're not going to die tomorrow."

Looking away, Brandi dropped her hands. "Dustin, I have something to tell you."

"What? What happened?"

She hesitated. "Well, I went to go see Dr. Burb about some hallucinations I've been having lately."

Dustin was taken aback. "You mean like. . . . seeing things? Why didn't you tell me, we could've -"

"No, Dustin. Not just seeing. Doing, feeling, believing. And when I went back to normal, I never knew how I had got to that place, what time it was or even what I had done. I only knew deep down that I had slipped up. Let my past take over. And Dr. Burb. . . . well, Dr. Burb looked at my brain in a machine. He said that I had something very wrong with my brain, but he didn't say exactly what. He just said that it's not treatable, and there's no cure. He also said that he would see to it that I see a therapist and check into a mental health facility for a few months. That if I let myself slip up any more, my life was in danger from my very subconscious, Dustin. That's what I meant by gone." Brandi choked out, nearing sobs again.

Dustin gasped, lost for words. "Oh, Mom, no . . ."

Brandi sank down onto the bed, sobbing uncontrollably. Dustin tried to console her by holding her and stroking her hair, but suddenly her face went blank and the tears stopped coming.

"Oh, honey, we mustn't wake Dustin," Brandi said in a flirtatious voice, grinning at Dustin.

"Oh, crap," Dustin muttered.

"What was that, hon?" Brandi murmured, stroking her son's free arm.

"N-Nothing. . . ." Dustin said, trying to break free.

Brandi smiled and pecked him on the cheek. Dustin broke away, grimacing, and ran out of the room, into his own. Locking the door behind him, he saw a sleepy Beau sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Whazzamatter?" he asked, yawning as Dustin threw on some jeans.

Dustin's heart was hammering. Glancing blankly at Beau, he said, "Just get dressed, we gotta get Mom to see Dr. Burb right away."

Beau didn't ask questions, a perk of his. He just grabbed his brown t-shirt and a pair of jeans from the wardrobe, dressing quickly as Dustin tugged on his Pleasantview High jersey.

"Oh, Skiiiiiiip. . . ." Brandi sing-songed from her room.

"See what I mean?" Dustin asked his brother, who was now pulling a comb through his hair.

"Yeah. Mom's not right and now we're off to see the Wizard," Beau replied, no humor in his voice.

"Exactly."

Running out into the bathroom, Dustin grabbed the sleeping pills out from the cabinet and poured a glass of water for his mother, adding the medication.

Trying his best to pretend his mom was Angela, he said, "Sweetheart, drink this. You look parched."

She took the glass, drinking it without tasting it. Handing it back to him, he slipped his arm around her and helped her up. Placing the glass on an end table, he said, "How about we go somewhere else? The park, maybe? Or the motel? Get a nanny for Dusty? Let's make today about us, baby."

"Whatever you say, hon," she said, her words slurring a bit.

Helping her to the car, he put her in the back seat and fastened her seat belt, the one without duct tape. He didn't want her breaking free.

Locking her door and going back to get Noah and Beau, he found Noah sleeping in Beau's arms, which were sagging under the heavy toddler's weight.

"What did you do to him?" Dustin asked in a tone that was disapproving but at the same time curious to know.

"I had to, Dustin, you gotta understand. He was crying for Mom so I gave him a bottle with a sleeping pill in it. I didn't know what else to do," he said, tearing up at Dustin's hard face.

Taking the drugged toddler, he glared at Beau. "Look, kiddo, I'm not mad at you. It's just that I gave mom pills because she was an adult. Little kids aren't meant to take these. They get sick."

"I'm sorry!" Beau pleaded.

Dustin rolled his eyes. "Just don't do it again. This is your little bro we're taking about here. We don't need this to become a story on Thanksgiving, how Beau drugged Noah that one day when Mom went crazy," Dustin said, a lump forming in his throat.

If there's a Thanksgiving, he thought darkly, marching to the car.

***

"Don't tell your friends at school I did this, okay?" Dustin said, backing out of the driveway.

Beau bit his lip. He could sense the stress in Dustin's voice, and didn't even yelp as he knocked over a garbage can.

Brandi was sleeping soundly in the back seat beside Noah, who was in his carseat, breathing shallow. The hospital was at the top of the hill by the Bella Goth bridge, so Dustin gunned the engine in the general direction of the highway, the mobile home fading in the rearview mirrors.

The bottle of pills and Brandi's purse sat in between them like an ominous reminder of the duty they had ahead. Dustin chuckled darkly, breaking the silence.

We're off to see the Wizard, all right, he thought, shaking his head. Hoping that nobody saw who was driving, he passed the high school, slowing down because there was a crossing guard with a grim look fifty metres down the road. He saw Angela and Lilith, scrapping it out again on the front steps, and Dirk, getting out of his dad's van, who turned and stared as he saw the recognizable car pass by.

Motioning for Dirk, he pulled off to the side of the road. Dirk ran up behind him, getting larger in the rear-view mirror.

"Dude, what the hell?" Dirk said as Dustin rolled down the window.

"Look, dude, I need you to tell the school I'm away, okay? Tell them there was an emergency or something," Dustin said, pleading with his friend.

"No way, man. Something's up and I'm not down with it," Dirk said, looking around. "And why the hell are you driving? You're fourteen, man. Happy birthday. But that doesn't mean you can burn rubber, okay? I saw you coming up the street, well, everybody did. I just want you to live, dude. Now get out of the car and let your mom drive."

Dustin shook his head. "Dirk, it's a bit more complicated than that. Just tell the office I'm gonna be gone for a while, okay? I can't explain, I don't need Social Services on my ass again. Just make something up."

Dirk bit his lip, his eyes darting back to the school.

"C'mon, man, take one for the team," Dustin said, running his hand through his untidy hair.

Dirk sighed. "Fine, man, but you owe me an explanation after everything goes down. And if you kill yourself before it gets to that, well, don't expect me to cry at your funeral." He patted the roof of the car twice and lumbered off, shaking his head and swearing to himself.

Pulling off the shoulder, Dustin sighed. Phase one, complete. Beau just looked forlornly out the window as they climbed the hill, down at Pleasantview.

"I wanna go home," he said as Dustin rounded a corner, skidding a bit.

"Yeah, me too, buddy, me too. But right now, we're off to see Mr. Burb at the hospital, okay?" Dustin said, glancing at the mirrors like he had seen Brandi do before.

The ten-year-old groaned, kicking the bottom of the seat. Dustin could see that the day was already taking it's toll on the kid, making him slump in his seat.

Pulling cautiously into a free parking spot, he put the pill bottle in Beau's hand. "Give one of these to Mom if she wakes up. Tell her it's candy. Don't let her see the bottle or try to get out of the car, even if she's really Mom again."

Beau nodded, and Dustin locked all the doors before leaving the car, punching Beau playfully in the arm. "Be safe, kiddo."

Beau gave him a grim look as he slammed the car door, the keys jingling loudly in his grasp. Suddenly Dustin realized that his hand was shaking, and he closed it around the keys, clenching his teeth and opening the door.

The building was called the hospital only because it had a maternity ward and a surgical room in it, plus a brain scan machine and a pharmacy. It was really only a long, narrow brick building with sickly green walls and a flat roof sagged inwards from years of heavy snow packs. But Dustin, never having been in here before, smelled sickness with every step he took, and felt vomit rise in his throat.

Bending over a garbage can, he coughed up his dinner from last night into the black abyss. Suddenly he felt a tap on his shoulder and saw Dr. Burb standing there, clipboard in hand. Wiping his mouth, Dustin turned around.

"She's doing it again, isn't she?" he asked, his brown eyes searching.

Dustin nodded weakly. "She's out cold. I gave her some sleeping pills so she wouldn't hurt herself."

John pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, shaking his head. "Let me see her."