a/n: oh hey, here's another chapter of this because i had some time. now we learn a little more about freddy and friends. and delve into his strange life. bet you guys thought i'd given it up? well, hah!

ch3:freddy feel nothing

"say it with me now: i-sai-ah," prosthetic hand kid demands, real hand and fake hand held out as though he's showing me an invisible sign.

i don't say it with him though, because the asymmetry is distracting. i ask him why we're learning his name, when we're supposed to be finishing the lab i gave up on?

"you're such a dick," he informs me.

i tell him that i don't see how that relates at all, zae.

he just blinks his eyes wide and shut a few times and half smiles, which is kind of super ugly. i debate whether i should start another game of things you can do with two hands.

i only realize i'm debating out loud when he cuts me off, "how about we play things you can do with normal brain function, freddy?"

i tell him that was uncalled for, because i know it's supposed to hurt somehow. sometimes, when my mom gets angry and says something intentionally cruel, i get a stomachache, but most times it falls flatter than i know it should.

i know feelings from the internet.

i know nothing at all.

"you said my name though," he sighs and stretches his mismatched hands over his fat head. "you must not be totally retarded."

i tell him that birds can learn words too, zae. best not to overestimate someone's abilities.

"why are you carrying around a girl's backpack?"

it's drugs, i say.

he does this shocked sputtering thing i've only ever seen in cartoons. "what the hell?!"

i tell him yeah, i thought it was just weed but when i looked it ended up being cocaine. like a kilo in a text book cover. that's the florida border though, am i right?

he freaks out some more and is gradually turning the same shade of white as cocaine.

so i tell him i'm kidding, zae, it really is just weed, which doesn't help as much as i thought it would.

"a kilo, though?! are you fucking insane?"

i say no, not really. no one ever cares if i have drugs.

"BUT A KILO, FRED."

he's loud and his voice is uglier than he is. i tell him to shut up, zae.

"why do you have that?" he asks me like i need a reason.

the pretty mexican gave it to me, i tell him. because they search lockers if you're mexican.

zae laughs. because i'm right. "now that you told me, i can smell it from here. luckyass white retard."

i say i know his name now, zae. can he tell me what happened to his hand?

he leans forward conspiratorially and waves me in. i don't go in and just wait.

"so.." he says, thinking, "there was this bear.. and i was walking home from school one day-"

i stop him because he's lying.

"you don't know that." his eyebrows pull down like he's pouting. if you were wondering: it's ugly.

i do, i tell him. i always know.

he huffs and leans back, twirling his pen in his only hand. "look, i don't really wanna tell you."

i say, but i learned his name, zae.

he shakes that fat head at me and i stare at his freckles. they're harder to see, 'cause his skin is darker, but they're there and they're ugly. like danny.

i ask zae what he thinks of homos.

he drops his pen and his black eyes go wide like hockey pucks.

"w-what? why?" he stammers, and i realize he's about to lie to me.

i tell him because one homo told me he liked me. and i don't know how i feel.

he scoffs, calmer now for some reason. "that's because you don't, fred."

i ask him don't what, zae?

"don't feel," he says and picks his pen back up to twirl it again.

and he's right. i don't think i felt that. i grab my bag of drugs and walk out of the room, my stomach churning like i'm going to be sick.

he might be calling after me, but i don't want to study with him now that i know he won't tell me about his hand. when i get to my car, the mexican girl is there, sitting on my trunk.

"hey, guero," she says, smiling white teeth at me. "you really saved my ass back there."

i hand her the bag she came here for and she stands up to kiss my cheek. i don't like physical stuff, but i try not to flinch, since she's just being nice.

"would smoke you out, but shits not mine. next time?" she says and slings the bag over her shoulder, starting to walk away.

i don't say anything, because i know she won't really, and so does she.

there's a hand on my shoulder suddenly and i can't keep down the negative reaction this time. i slap the arm connected to it and turn to face danny's freckled mug.

don't touch me from behind like that, i tell him.

he asks, "can i touch you from the front, then?"

i tell him i don't feel, danny.

he reaches out to touch me again, 'cause he doesn't understand.

i stop his hand and say no, danny, on the inside. i don't feel.

"don't be stupid, fred. everyone feels. you're just weird, but i like that about you."

you don't know me, i tell him. even my mom says i don't feel.

"you don't know me, fred," he corrects me like it matters. since we both don't know each other. his confidence is ugly. "you should let me try."

i ask him try what, danny?

and he says, "making you feel. i'll make it so good for you, freddy. you'll never doubt your feelings again."

i tell him i don't know, danny.

"well, if you don't feel," he reasons, "then no harm done. nothing will change for you."

so what? i ask him. what is he saying?

"i'm saying hang out with me fred. and let me touch you from behind and stuff. we can just.. see what happens."

i say okay, danny, but not right now. and that makes him smile so big and grab me faster than i can flinch away. and he kisses my cheek, right where the mexican girl kissed and i'm stuck wondering about this strange continuity as i drive home.

chapper tree, hosheet! :o review if you feel like it. and if you don't!