So this is a short story i wrote for writer's craft. I poured my heart and soul into it- so it's very long. Nevertheless, if you have a good 45 minutes to kill, i would appreaciate you read it and gave me feedback.
The Story of the Sparkly Tank Top
It was a glorious Friday afternoon- the sun was shining, the grass was green, the birds were singing their sweet melodies. Their songs blended in with the ringing of bicycle bells and the soft hums of the suburban area’s environmentally friendly cars, in such a way that a person passing through might think to themselves “There really is music in the air!” Yes, it was certainly a perfect day. And what better way to spend it than inside, watching the latest episode of Phineas and Ferb?
11 year old Toby McKinley lay sprawled on his family's living room sofa; his blue eyes glazed and fixed on the television. Every couple seconds his hand reached robotically into a bag of Doritos, his fingers covered in a thick layer of powdered cheese. His feet, donning muddy sneakers, were propped up on the glass coffee table his mother had cleaned just 30 minutes ago. His homework, unscathed by the green ink of his favorite pen, lay propped up in the back of his school bag, pristine and out of sight. His teeth rhythmically chewing the cheesy pieces of processed chemicals, Toby had found his nirvana. In fact, Toby was just deciding that the perfection of his day was completely impenetrable, when a ruckus occurred.
It started out with a slam! , followed by the eruption of a high-pitched, ear drum breaking, glass shattering wail.
“TTOOOOOOOOOBBBBBBYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!”
There was only one creature -no, beast- on this planet that was capable of a shriek like that. After what Toby thought was a door slamming and what must have been a pair of ogre’s feet stomping down the stairs, the monster reared its ugly head. Toby silently reminded himself not to look it in the eye as he regarded the hellion and scanned the room for escape routes and objects that could act as potential weapons. There was a clear course to the kitchen, but before he could make a run for it, the monster opened its repulsive mouth and unleashed the sound of its vile voice onto Toby’s fragile ears;
“What the hell did you do with my purple sequined urban outfitters tank top!?”
There stood his sinister sister, Andrea McKinley, her face as red as a monkey’s bottom.
“Anyone ever tell you that you look like an ape when you get mad?” said Toby. Surely a bit of humor and flattery would get the incredible Hulk impression off the barbarian’s face…
“You little BRAT,” Or not. “I’m gonna kill you, this time!”
“Suit yourself. But can you at least let me finish my show? It’s a new episode.”
“Toby,” said Andrea, through clenched teeth. “If you don’t turn off that TV right now, I swear to god I will invert your knee caps.”
“Aw, c’mon Andrea, look at it this way,” said Toby. “Once you kill me you can watch America’s Next Top Model and your stupid dance show all you want.”
“DANCING WITH THE STARS IS A FINE ACHIEVEMENT FOR MODERN TELEVISION.” Andrea snapped, and with that, she snatched the TV remote from the coffee table and hit the power button.
“Hey, give it back!” protested Toby. He leapt off the couch and made to reach for it, but Andrea held it high above her head, letting it dangle maliciously- just out of Toby’s reach.
“You’ll get your precious remote back when you tell me what you did with my new purple sequined top from urban outfitters,” sneered Andrea.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Toby. And it was true; he didn’t know what it was that had stirred the wrath or awakened the hormones of the teenage tyrant- he didn’t even know what a “sequin” was, or why half of the brute’s hair was curled and the other half straight. But he did know he’d never seen nor touched this cherished chemise in his entire life- and that he was entitled to his couch potatoing. With all this in mind, he lunged for the remote again, his fingers just grazing its sleek black surface.
“Eww,” cried the villain, and with speed only the spawn of Satan could be capable of, she held the remote at arm’s length behind her back. “Don’t touch it; your fingers are covered in crap.”
“Andrea, I don’t know anything about your stupid tank top.” said Toby, the agitation growing in his voice. He made one last half hearted attempt at the remote, only to have Andrea shove it in the most awful, terrifying place on earth- the front of her shirt.
“EW! Andrea, that isn’t fair!”
“Tell me what you did with my tank top, you little weasel.”
“Look, I didn’t touch your stupid shirt. I’ve never even seen it before.” Though there was sincerity in his voice, Andrea didn’t believe it for a second.
“That’s exactly what you said that time you cut holes in the boobs of my dress.”
Toby stifled a snort.
“Okay, I’m sorry, that was one time.”
“Or that time you put Kool-aid in my shampoo.”
“Ah yes. That one’s a classic…”
“And don’t forget when you tried to fossilize my hamster.”
“That was technically an accident-”
“Accident!?” exclaimed Andrea. “How do you accidentally put a rodent in the freezer!?”
“What are you two going on about now?” Mr. McKinley stood in the doorway of the living room, arms crossed. “You guys can’t go two minutes in one room together without going ballistic.”
“Andrea won’t give me the remote!” whined Toby.
Mr. McKinley chuckled. “So why don’t you turn it on manually?”
This hadn’t occurred to Toby. A small smile appeared on his face as he sauntered over to the TV set and pressed the ON button triumphantly.
“Dad! That isn’t fair! He took my tank top and won’t give it back!” complained Andrea. Mr. McKinley removed his glasses. “Toby, what have you done with your sister’s shirt?”
“I told her a million times!” pleaded Toby. “I never even touched it! She’s lying!” Was he actually being doubted? Clearly it was time to pull out the big guns. After putting on his best puppy dog eyes, he whimpered, “You believe me, don’t you, dad?”
Mr. McKinley heaved a deep sigh as he polished his glasses with his flannel shirt.
“I’m sorry Toby,” he said. “But you’re always playing tricks on Andrea, and I don’t know what to believe anymore.” Toby couldn’t believe his ears. Of all the cruelties and injustices in the world, his own father was taking the adolescent’s side?
“This would all be a lot easier if you just gave me my shirt back,” said Andrea, rolling her eyes.
“I told you, I don’t have it,” said Toby, over-annunciating every syllable, hoping desperately that his words would somehow get through her thick, ogre-like skull and cornucopia of disorderly blonde hair.
“You mean you lost it!?” exclaimed Mr. McKinley. “Toby, you’re going to have to pay your sister back.”
Andrea shot Toby a satisfied smirk. He stuck his tongue out at her.
“What an excellent idea, daddy.” she said, turning and flashing her deceptively angelic smile at her father. “Thirty-five bucks,’ she said to Toby. “Hand it over.”
“But I don’t have any money!” he said.
“Then you’re just going to have to go out and make some,” said Mr. McKinley. “Go to old Mr. Avery’s house and do some chores for him. You’ll earn thirty five dollars after some hard labor. Andrea, you can go with him to make sure he doesn’t get into trouble.”
“WHAT?” blurted Andrea and Toby in unison.
“Why can’t you just give me the money?” moaned Andrea.
“I’m sorry kids, but it’s time you sorted this out yourself.” said their father. He turned his back and made for the kitchen, leaving them gaping after him.
“Now go on,” he said. “And be back in time for supper.”
Toby and Andrea strode down the sidewalk, hands in their pockets. Their eyes were fixed on the cracks and other blemishes in the pale cement, with the intent of avoiding the other’s gaze. The long awkward silence that had been plaguing them was broken by Toby, who’d finally lost patience and asked; “Why is that stupid shirt so important to you, anyway?”
“It’s not stupid,” Andrea replied. “I wanted to wear it tonight for my date with Geoff.”
“Not that Neanderthal,” groaned Toby. “What do you see in that guy?”
“Are you kidding me? Anyone who looks at him can see he’s the hottest guy everr. Besides, when some cute girl made of sugar, spice, and everything nice asks you out, you won’t be able to say no.”
“Somehow I can’t see myself ever dating a power puff girl,” said Toby, but Andrea ignored him. Toby silently cursed himself as Andrea’s internal monologue came spilling out of her otherwise empty skull.
“Seriously, though,” she went on, “Geoff is sooo hot. He’s perfected the balance between ‘sad puppy’ and ‘mysterious bad boy’. And have you seen the way his hair falls in front of those piercing blue eyes?” She let out a comically girlish sigh. “It’s like god created him with the image of ‘the perfect boy’ in mind.”
The sad part was, any heterosexual female wouldn’t think Andrea was exaggerating. Most girls at Andrea’s school would describe Geoff Burns as an angel- no, a god- no, a model for Gucci. Andrea and her best friend, Chelsea, had done the math- Geoff Burns was precisely a 9.827 on the yummy scale, making Chase Crawford look as delicious as last night’s turkey loaf surprise. And the best part was, Geoff wasn’t just your typical all-star, super jacked quarter back for the football team- in fact, Geoff’s nearly inhuman talent at football was probably the only thing that kept him in school. It was his apathy toward his talents that made him so alluring: He would strut about the school grounds practically reeking with silent arrogance –since he never spoke to anyone- or perhaps that was just the smell of his Cuban cigars, which he never cared to put out in front of a teacher. His aptitude at football meant the coach loved him more than any teenage girl, and that he could show up late to practices in his leather jacket and ray bans, or that he was free to do whatever… recreational activities he wanted too behind the bleachers. Geoff Burns was untouchable. He had it all- looks, talent, a giant ego and a complete lack of respect for others. It was a no brainer as to why girls swooned and fawned over him. After all, nothing’s more attractive than greasy hair, narcissism, and a bad attitude.
Andrea sighed again at these thoughts. “We’ve been dating for a month now, you know,” she lamented. “Other girls don’t usually last this long with him,” She twirled a section of her hair, daydreaming. “It could mean I’m special. Chelsea and I have been planning this date all day. He’s taking me bowling tonight, so we stopped in at the bowling lane at lunch to check the place out. It’s got these beautiful colored lights everywhere, and figured that if I wore the sparkly tank top, they would reflect of the sequins and make me glow- just like magic! It’ll be so perfect, Geoff won’t be able to take his eyes off of me...” she heaved one last feminine sigh and tried to ignore the vomiting noises Toby had been making, but she could only avoid snapping out her reverie for so long.
“And now,” she snarled, taking on her usual crabby, adolescent tone, “You lost my shirt, and everything is ruined.”
“Don’t worry, I’m getting you a new one,” said Toby, exasperated. Andrea glanced around the neighborhood.
“Where are we? Mr. Avery’s house was back 3 blocks.” she said.
“We’re not going to make thirty five dollars in time for your date tonight by doing chores for Mr. Avery,” he said. “We’re going to my friend Antonio’s house instead. He’s totally loaded. He’ll give us a break.”
At first, Andrea didn’t believe they were at the right house. "Your friend lives here?" she'd asked, dumbfounded as they walked down the long, winding driveway lined with palm trees, astonished when they shuffled past grand columns on the front porch. Presently, they stood in Antonio's private office- a necessity for any ambitious eleven year old. His butler had brought them cheese and crackers as they stared at the deep red fabric of the high backed chair Antonio sat in.
"Leave us, Jeeves," he said, a thick Ukrainian accent emanating from his chair. The butler bowed and backed out of the room.
"Who is it," said the voice, after a long pause. "And what brings you here?"
"We didn't mean to bother you-" Andrea started.
"SILENCE!" the voice interrupted. "A girl? In my office?"
"Forgive her, Sir Antonio," said Toby apologetically. "She is not familiar with your customs."
"I'd know that voice anywhere," said the accented voice. And after a long pause, the chair spun around sharply, revealing a pale, scrawny boy in a suit. His hair slicked back, and fluffy white cat in his lap, a yoyo dangling from his left hand, a bemused smirk appeared on the boy's voice. He leapt out of the chair, the cat flying, threw his arms in the air, and cried;
"Toby!"
"Tino!" responded Toby, and the two threw their arms around each other fondly.
"My old friend," said Tino, folding his arms and leaning on his desk. "What brings you here on a Friday afternoon? I understand you told me today at recesses you had the Phineas and Ferb to watch." Toby sighed.
"I'm afraid i've been forced to earn some money for my dear sister," he said spitefully.
"Your little friend stole my tank top," said Andrea to Tino, who chuckled heartily.
"Ah, good one, friend!" he said, slapping Toby on the back. He let out a modest laugh. "What did you do this time? Tie-dye? Acid-wash?" Andrea glared at him.
"I remember when you told me of the time you cut out the holes in her dress! Oh how fond i am of your tricks," mused Tino. He noticed the look on Andrea's face.
"And I take it you've come to me for help?" he chuckled. "Silly, naive girl. What makes you think i will help you? You are in the having no business here. Besides," Tino began to pace around the room, hands clasped behind his back, stopping as he looked out of a large bay window, silhouetted by the light it let into the room.
"Perhaps it would be in good taste to- develop a sense of humor to your brother's jokes,"
"Ugh, i should have known your little friends would be just as bratty as you are," Andrea groaned. Tino's frame tightened.
"Forgive her, Tino," said Toby before Tino could react. "She is but a mere teenager. She doesn't understand." As Andrea scoffed at this, Tino turned his head to the side, his profile defined sharply by the bright light of the window.
"Please," Toby went on, "Take pity on her. This particular tank top is very important to her- she has a date tonight."
"I am sorry, Toby," said Tino stiffly. "But i do not engage in business with the likes of hormonal adolescents."
"Than take pity on me," continued Toby. "If i don't pay my sister back for this shirt, I’m going to be in big trouble with my parents."
"I see," said Tino, as he looked out onto the vast lawn surrounding the front of his house and his long driveway. "This is a serious predicament." There was a silence as he stroked his chin for a moment and thought.
"Very well, then," he said turning to face them. "If you are willing to rake the immense amounts of leaves on the lawn, I will be giving you the reward. Yes?"
"Oh thankyou, Tino" exclaimed Toby. "This is very generous of you." Tino extended his hand, and Andrea watched in horror as Toby bent down and kissed a giant sapphire ring Tino wore on his pinky.
"Now you, blonde girl," he said, extending his hand towards Andrea. She glanced at Toby, but he only gave her an expectant look. She sighed and kissed the ring.
"Very well, you may leave me," said Tino, and he turned his back to them as they left the room. Just as Andrea's hand made to push open the door, she turned and asked;
"If your name is Italian, why do you have a Ukrainian accent?"
"My family is predominantly of Ukrainian heritage, yes," he said. "But my father fell hopelessly in love with my italian mother's cooking." Andrea shrugged when he said this, but before she could close the heavy wooden door, she heard Tino say;
"Perhaps it would be wise for you to learn how to cook as well. Otherwise i don't think this date of yours will be in the sticking around..." Andrea grunted angrily as the door slammed shut.
After an hour of raking leaves, Toby and Andrea entered Tino's office again.
"We're done," said Toby, panting.
"Can we have the money now?" Tino slowly rose from his chair, and surveyed the lawn through his bay window.
"You have done a nice job on the front lawn," he said. Andrea tapped her foot anxiously. Tino turned to look at them.
"But what about the back lawn?" Tino's eyes widened. Andrea's jaw dropped.
"We were supposed to do that one, too?" She muttered.
"Well of course," Tino smirked. "Don't forget the two side lawns, and the lawn that is surrounding our Zen garden."
"This is ridiculous," Andrea said angrily. "Italian-Ukrainians don't even have Zen gardens."
"My family has close relatives in Japan."
“We don’t have time to rake all of your lawns,” said Toby, growing annoyed. “Just give us the money for your front lawn and we’ll be on our way.”
Tino reached into his pocket and counted out a couple bills. Finally, to Toby and Andrea’s astonishment, he handed over-
“A five dollar bill?” said Andrea. “How is this going to pay for my tank top?”
“This is not my problem,” said Tino. “You did not rake all my lawns, so I will not be paying you full price.”
“Raking that lawn took longer then our math homework!” said Toby. But Tino simply sighed and looked passively out the window again.
“I am wishing I could pay you more,” he said as the fluffy white cat leapt up onto his desk. “But money is a little tight in our household at the moment.” He stroked the cat under its chin. The cat purred as it eyed Andrea and Toby suspiciously. “My father has been in the having some troubles with his… business... therefore he is unable to pay me my full allowance.”
“You little cheap-skate!” yelled Andrea. She’d been carefully controlling her temper during the whole visit, and now she’d finally reached the end of her fuse. “You must have had at least a hundred dollars when you were so carefully counting out our ‘pay’.” She folded her arms. “What a rip-off!” Tino snapped to attention and narrowed his eyes.
“These confrontations will not be welcome in my household,” he said, eyes focused on Andrea’s pink face and vein bulging in her forehead. “You are no longer welcome here. Jeeves will kindly escort you to the front door.” He lifted a small bell sitting on his desk and rang it, and within seconds Jeeves appeared and tugged them out of the office by their collars.
“Got any other brilliant ideas?” said Andrea dryly, after the mansions front doors had slammed behind them.
“I wouldn’t call it brilliant,” said Toby. “But it’s worth a try.”
Toby and Andrea stood in front of a tiny, one level suburban house. A modest garden composed of cactuses and strange looking ferns lined the tiled footpath to the paint peeling door. Simple, square windows were decked with quaint quilted curtains that clashed nicely with the tiled sides of the house.
“So who lives here?” asked Andrea.
“Elliot,” Toby replied as he rang the doorbell.
“Oh no,” moaned Andrea. “Is he the one that goes rummaging through my room whenever he comes over?”
“Yeah…” said Toby. “You might want to stay outside for this one.”
“Gladly,” said Andrea, and with that, the door creaked open, revealing a short, pasty-skinned boy. The boy was so short and lanky that he appeared malnourished, despite the natural bright flush he had to his cheeks- which was probably the only pop of color on his entire body. The rest of the unfortunate boy’s image was composed of dull hair, bony limbs, and gawky facial features. His glasses, which were much too big for him, slipped and fell off his nose and had to be pushed up constantly- especially when he spoke.
“Salutations, Toby,” he greeted in a nasal voice.
“Hi Elliot,” said Toby. “I have a bit of a favor to ask you. Do you mind if I come in?”
A silence followed. Toby’s words hadn’t processed in Elliot’s mind, as he was too busy staring at the vision of beauty standing at the end of his sidewalk. There she stood, her blue eyes staring idly into the distance, her lips pouted perfectly into the loveliest frown Elliot had ever laid his eyes upon. Her golden blonde strands were tousled by the gentle wind, which seemed to caress her and envelop her entire body like thin sheets of velvet. Her very presence emanated grace and elegancy; The way she held herself, the way she twirled her hair, the way she bit her nails… She was truly a living Aphrodite- a goddess walking among peasants.
“Elliot. Elliot! ELLIOT.” Toby yelled.
“Toby,” sighed Elliot. “Why did you choose to bless my humble, mundane existence with such an image of everlasting
perfection?”
“Please stop talking like that,” said Toby as he dragged his love struck friend into the tiny shack of a house.
“I must thank you for your kindness, Toby.” He said as Toby closed his front door. “Of all the other men in the world to bestow this wondrous gift upon… you choose me!” Elliot ran over to the nearest window and violently drew back the curtains. He stared, open mouthed as Andrea scowled down at her phone and texted frantically. “My birthday isn’t even until two months from now!”
“Sure, no problem, Elliot,” said Toby, taking a seat on his scratchy living room sofa. “Now can I ask you a favor?”
“Oh, anything for you, Toby!” Elliot exclaimed, his eyes still fixed on the window. “Your wish is my command. How could I ever possibly thank you for bringing your lovely sister here?”
Toby gagged. “Well, you could start by giving me thirty five bucks.”
Elliot’s face fell. He finally focused his attention on Toby, the dreamy look in his eyes fading fast.
“Now, Toby,” he said. “That’s a lot of money.”
“So? I can bring my sister here again sometime for you to gawk at some more,” said Toby. Elliot chuckled and shook his head.
“I’ll give you thirty five bucks,” he said, a clever smile on his wide mouth, “If you give me a date with your sister at the war museum next weekend.”
Toby winced. There was no way Andrea would be willing to spend more than 10 minutes in Elliot’s presence, let alone a full date with him at a war museum. Museums, schools and other educational institutions were probably at the top of Andrea’s most hated places list. But Toby had to think for himself, too. After all, it was Andrea who got him into this mess, even though he was completely innocent of stealing her tank top. If he didn’t pay her back he would be in big trouble when he got home. And he certainly couldn’t come up with any better way to seek revenge on her after the torture she’d put him through this afternoon.
Toby put his head in his hands. “All right,” he sighed. “What time do you want to meet her there for?”
Toby walked down Elliot’s front walkway with a certain bounce in his step. A part of him couldn’t help but anticipate the elated look on Andrea’s face when he showed her the money, but when she’d seen it she’d only snatched it out of his hands and muttered “finally,” under her breath. In fact, their bus trip to Urban Outfitters had been in complete silence, and had consisted of Toby staring down at the floor of the bus and Andrea blatantly ignoring him as she texted urgently anytime she received a message from Geoff.
When they finally arrived at Urban Outfitters, Andrea practically pranced into the store. She didn’t pause to wait for Toby to catch up with her, and she never thanked him for is efforts. Instead she scampered desperately over to the rack she’d found the sparkly tank top on the first time. She rummaged through each piece of clothing on the rack, but it was a different section of clothes from the last time she’d gone shopping. Figuring that they must have rearranged the store’s layout, she began to trek through the entire multi-level store, searching every nook and cranny, examining every shelf and rack. But the sequined tank top was nowhere to be found. Perhaps they were sold out.
Andrea had to lean against the side of a mannequin at this thought. The people and clothes around her turned into blurs, the loud music flushed and filled her ears but was somehow inaudible. She stared blindly ahead, her eyes unfocused, her mind uncomprehending the situation. There was no way those tank tops were sold out. It was impossible.
Suddenly, a rush of familiar wavy dark hair zoomed past her and towards the store’s exit. Andrea snapped to attention- it was Chelsea. Andrea ran to catch up with her. “Chelsea!” she called.
Chelsea turned around and smiled. “Hey! You shopaholic,” she teased. “You were here just last week!”
“I know,” said Andrea. “I just can’t get enough of this store. What have you bought?”
“Oh, I hope you don’t get mad at me,” said Chelsea. “You know I always follow the clothing rule, but I was hoping you could make an exception this time.” Chelsea reached one hand into her shopping bag and- lo and behold- pulled out none other than the purple sparkly tank top, in all its sequined glory.
“It was the last one in the store. I just saw how flattering it was on you,” said Chelsea apologetically. “I just had to get my own. But I promise I’ll never buy the same top as you ever again. Oh god, please don’t be mad.”
Andrea heaved a deep, relieved sigh. “Of course I’m not mad, Chelsea. Of course you can have the tank top. On one teensy, tiny condition.”
Toby leaned against the cement walls of the store as he waited for Andrea. Arms folded, his eyes hadn’t left the ground ever since they’d left Elliot’s house. He recognized Andrea and Chelsea’s voices as the two girls exited the store together.
“Thanks again, you have no idea what I went through to get another top. I owe you, big time.”
“No problem! Hey, is that your brother over there?”
“Ugh, yeah.”
“He looks kind of upset.”
“Oh forget it. He’s just pissed I dragged him all the way here. Besides, he’s the one who lost my shirt in the first place.”
“Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said he was a brat. Well, I’ll see you later. Have fun on your date tonight!”
“Bye!”
Toby scowled fiercely at a cigarette butt on the ground as he listened to Andrea’s suede boots padding across the sidewalk towards him. He didn’t look up at her.
“Ready to go? I got the tank top. It was sold out but Chelsea bought one and she lent me hers.”
“I know. I figured as much from your conversation.” Said Toby. “It’s also good to know your friend hates me just as much as you do.”
“What are you talking about?” said Andrea.
Hot tears welled up in Toby’s eyes, blurring the image of the cigarette butt and morphing it into an ugly splotch. He did his best to speak without having his voice waver or crack.
“Well can you give me the money back, then?” he said, ignoring her question. “You got your tank top.”
“Of course not!” snapped Andrea. “You were supposed to pay me back. I can spend the money how I like, now, regardless of the tank top.” Andrea pulled out her cell phone and checked the time. “Stop being such a baby. Can we just go home?”
Somewhere inside Toby, a dam broke. The tears came rushing violently from his eyes and dripping down his chin.
“Andrea, you really are a monster.” He sobbed. Andrea stared, her eyes wide. She’d forgotten her brother was capable of pain. “I went through all this work for you and still you ignore me!” he wailed, throwing subtlety out the window. “I never even stole your tank top to begin with, and you still won’t believe me.” He ran the sleeve of his hoodie across his nose. “Every time I try to talk to you, you get mad at me about something new. I’m always doing something wrong. Even all of your friends hate me!” Toby let out more violent sobs. The collar of his hoodie was wet with tears. “You and Geoff deserve each other,” he said spitefully. Andrea stared at a freckle on her wrist as Toby’s crying slowly waned. When he had grown quieter, she said; “I think I’ll call dad and ask him to give us a ride home.”
Geoff arrived 30 minutes late to pick up Andrea, which was lucky for her, because she’d arrived home just in time to put the finishing touches on her eyeliner before the doorbell rang. Her hair now fully curled and looking fabulous, she pushed the thoughts of today’s brutal afternoon out of her mind and mustered up her most endearing smile when she answered the door. Geoff stepped into the house in all his leather jacketed glory.
“Hi, Geoff,” Andrea sighed.
“Hurry up, the game’s starting in 20 minutes.” He said as he texted on his iphone.
“But I thought we were going bowling?” Andrea asked wearily.
“Change of plans. Let’s go.” Geoff said impatiently.
“Okay,” Andrea’s face fell. “Let me go get my jacket.” As she dashed upstairs, Toby, who had been spying on their exchange from around the corner, peered around Geoff’s shoulder and observed who he was messaging on his phone.
“Who’s Gabrielle?” pondered Toby aloud. Geoff whirled around, momentarily startled by Toby’s intrusions.
“Mind your own business, you fucking maggot,” he said.
Toby retreated back around the corner as Andrea galloped back down the stairs, now donning a jean jacket. The couple was just about to leave when Mrs. McKinley arrived at the door. She came in carrying several clothes covered in slips.
“Hey guys, I just picked up your clothes from the dry cleaner’s,” she said, and looked Andrea up and down. “You look cute, honey! But- that’s funny. I thought I took that top of yours to the cleaner’s!”
Andrea’s legs suddenly felt like jell-o. Her eyes wide, she glanced over at Toby. He averted her gaze and sulked off to the kitchen as Geoff guided her out and into his beat up Volkswagen.
Toby had just the plan for when Andrea got back.
Every time Andrea went out with Geoff, she would come home and immediately phone Chelsea and gush out in gruesome detail everything about the date, and since she was so loud, Toby was subject to listening to her go on about it all night. Later he’d invite his friends over and make fun of the things she said, or sometimes they’d steal her diary and laugh at the things she wrote about Geoff in there. However, after what had happened this afternoon, Toby was furious. So furious, that a date with Elliot would not be enough to satisfy his hunger for vengeance. Toby had taken a sound recorder from his old pretend spy kit, and after recording Andrea’s entire conversation with Chelsea, he would post it on facebook. It was probably one of his most ingenious plans, and he was giddy with anticipation as he waited in the living room, watching very quiet reruns of Family Guy so as to wake his parents. Finally, at 10:41, Andrea creaked the door open and shut it quietly.
Toby sneaked up and hid behind a corner again, peering around just enough so she wouldn’t notice him in the dimly light house.
She did nothing but lean against the door at first. When she moved, her movements they were slow and sloth-like. She stared at herself in the front hall mirror for a long time, absent mindedly shifting and adjusting her clothes or ruffling her hair. There was something about her posture- she slouched more than usual, like her neck didn’t agree with the idea of holding her head up. Toby leaned around the corner further, trying to see how her face looked in the reflection of the mirror, but she caught him peering at her.
Crap, busted, Toby thought, but Andrea made no movement to turn around and yell at him or run upstairs and tell their parents. Instead she only refocused her gaze in the mirror to herself. After a long moment, and without moving, she asked;
“What are you still doing awake?”
“It’s a Friday.” Toby replied. “Why are you home so early?”
Another long pause. She glanced at him in the mirror again. Her face was resigned, defeated. Her mouth was pulled into a straight line, her eyes were heavy lidded and cloudy.
“We both had kind of a crappy afternoon.” She said, as if this answered Toby’s question. He stared at the wall. For some reason, posting her secrets on facebook didn’t seem as much fun anymore.
Suddenly, Andrea turned to face him. Her hair fell and shielded most of her face, though he could still see her mouth and chin. Her lips trembled and her chin was all knotted up and shaky.
“Toby,” she said. “Do you really think I’m a monster?” her voice cracked on ‘monster’.
Toby was silent for a moment. “If you were really a monster,” he said, “I don’t think you’d look so sad right now.”
Andrea looked up at him then, and he saw that her eyes were glossy and bloodshot.
“Geoff thinks I’m a monster,” she said, as the tears spilled over her cheeks.
Toby suddenly felt his stomach swerve, and that feeling of guilt that he so rarely got when concerned with Andrea crept up into his legs. His feet felt heavy and stubborn, like they’d been nailed to the floor. He listened to her sniffle and hiccup for a long moment, until finally he pried his feet from the floor and wrapped her into a bear hug. She sobbed more violently then and propped her chin on his shoulder, patting his back, as if he were the one who needed consolation. They stood there like that for a long time, until finally Andrea’s sobs softened and the two of them leaned against the front hall’s wall and sat down on the tiled floor.
“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you about the tank top,” Andrea said. “It’s just that you’re always stealing my stuff.”
“I know,” said Toby apologetically. “It’s just that, when I do, you actually pay attention to me.”
Andrea sniffled. “I pay attention to you, don’t I?”
Toby stared at Andrea’s feet. Her toes were painted with a shimmery purple nail polish to match her tank top.
“I guess… but it’s always, like, bad attention,” he scratched his head. “Sometimes you’ll get mad at me even when I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I’m sorry, Toby,” said Andrea. “I didn’t know this was bothering you so much.”
“It’s okay. I’m not the only one who burst into tears today.”
“I’ll tell you what,” said Andrea, slapping her hand onto Toby’s knee. “If you promise to sabotaging me, I promise to start paying more attention to you.”
“Alright, deal.” said Toby. “Just one thing, though. I may have set you and Elliot up on a date in order to get thirty five bucks out of him.” Andrea’s eyes widened.
“Here,” she said, pulling the money out of her pocket. “It’s all yours.”
“Thanks,” said Toby. “And as a bonus, I’ll make sure he stays out of your room, too.” Suddenly he screwed his face into a knot.
“I can’t believe the magic tank top didn’t work.” He groaned. “We went through so much work to get it.” There must have been
something funny in that sentence, because Andrea smiled and said;
“You know what? I think it did.” They smiled at eachother for a moment, until Andrea grabbed him by the shirt collar.
“But if you tell anyone that Geoff dumped me,” she threatened. “I’ll tell dad why Mr. Avery’s cat has a hole in his left ear.”
The two of them chuckled and said their goodnights, a first, for them. As Toby crawled into bed, he replayed the day’s events in his mind over and over again, and just before he drifted into a slumber, the clock struck 11:11, and he decided that today really had been a perfect day.
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Subject: The Story of the Sparkly Tank Top (DONT BE FOOLED BY THE SILLY TITLE. READ) 
Mon Dec 06, 2010 12:15 pm
It's hilarious. I can see this as being the pilot episode for an epic TV show.
