Of Nasty Divorces and Premonitions

Chapter 2

Ferb Fletcher was a quiet 7 year old boy who lived in a small, two bedroom flat in London with his dad, Lawrence. They'd been living there for three months while his parents went to court twice a week. Sometimes more. He didn't know a lot of what they were fighting about, all he knew was that his mom and dad used to fight all the time before he'd moved Ferb to the little flat. His mom wanted to keep him in England with her and her new boyfriend while her soon-to-be ex-husband moved as far away as possible, taking his stupid (and other colorful words he hadn't been supposed to hear) antique business with him. The thing was, though, Ferb didn't want to stay with his mom in England. He loved his mom, and he loved his grandparents and would miss not getting to see them all the time, but he didn't like his mom's new boyfriend. His name was Frank and he smelled weird and had a look to him that didn't sit well with Ferb, like when he got a tummy ache and felt like he was going to throw up, especially when he used that look on Ferb. He was nice enough, especially in front of his mother, but Ferb just didn't like the way he looked.

His dad had moved him out of the big house he used to share with his mom less than a month after the divorce had started and into a small flat across town, but Ferb still spent weekends between his mom's house and his grandparents cottage when both his parents had to go to court. Sometimes he wished the judge would just ask him what he wanted because it would be a lot easier, but no one wanted to listen to a 7 year old who rarely talked on a good day. He still had speech therapy appointments on alternating Thursdays, but he didn't need them. He could talk just fine. He just didn't like to. The world was too noisy. It would be better if everyone would stop talking sometimes. As he climbed out of bed to close his window--his toes were starting to look blue--and get dressed, he looked at the large calendar his grandma had gotten him for his birthday. Each month was a different galaxy, and he had cool planet and star stickers to mark off the days. Today was monday, but it was holiday so he didn't have school. Maybe he and his dad could go to the planetarium on Thursday after speech? Hopefully he wouldn't have to go any more once he and his dad moved away.

Walking over to his closet, he pulled out his purple overalls and a long sleeved white jumper to wear with it. Exchanging his pajamas for the day clothes, he walked into his washroom to brush his teeth before going downstairs. His dad was sitting at the small two chair table in one corner of the cramped kitchen drinking tea and reading the newspaper. He looked up when Ferb came in, walking to the refrigerator to get some orange juice and milk for his cereal. "Morning, Ferb! How'd you sleep last night, buddy? Good dreams?" Ferb nodded, setting his breakfast on the table before climbing up into the seat and pulling the funny pages toward him to look at while he ate. "Can we go to the planetarium on Thursday after speech?" he asked, looking up at the tall, brown haired man from under his bangs. His dad considered it for a moment, setting his newspaper down to study Ferb over his pointed fingers. "Well I don't see why not," he said, smiling. "Let's plan on it! So long as nothing comes up, that is. Sound good?" Ferb nodded, smiling around a bite of fruity cereal. His mom never bought him fruity cereal. She said it was too sugary.

"I thought maybe today we could go into town, maybe do a bit of grocery shopping and pick up something for dinner. Sound good?" Ferb nodded, taking a sip of his orange juice. He liked grocery shopping with his dad. The older Fletcher always had a way of finding little out of the way farmer's markets and specialty stores that sold foods from other countries. Last time they'd gone grocery shopping they'd ended up in Little Russia and gotten pierogi for dinner along with some Russian candies that he hadn't been able to name but they were nutty and chocolaty and really, really good. He'd wanted to try to bring some to Phineas, but he hadn't quite managed to figure that out yet. The last time he'd tried he'd woken up with melted chocolate under his pillow. He'd been at his mom's and she'd not been pleased. Frank had been over that day and had laughed, telling his mom to relax and he'd probably just been saving it for later and forgot they were under there. He'd still had to sit through a lecture about how food in the bedroom led to pests.