MB Short Story: Chibi-Mode (Patreon)

The only thing canonical about this story is Nick’s name for Kent.

But it was fun to write :)

* * *

“It’s my snack!” The child puffed out her cheeks belligerently, clutching the Tupperware container to her chest. Her defiant brown eyes more closely resembled those of hardened gladiator than a seven-year-old girl. Clearly, she was prepared to defend her property to the death.

“Ambrose said you had to share,” argued a boy of similar age. “Ambrose is the oldest, so he’s in charge.”

The little girl shook her head vigorously, rattling the beaded ends of her braids. “Rosy s’not in charge of ME,” she insisted. “Mama and I made these pralines together, so they’re MINE.”

“I shared my grandma’s pierniki with you,” the boy reminded her.

The girl wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like gingerbread, though,” she stated. “I like pralines.”

“I like pralines, too.”

“But these ones are MINE.”

“You still have to share.”

Talia glared at the boy who, up until now, she had considered to be her bestest ever friend. “Stop being greedy, Kent,” she ordered. “If I share with you then I have to share with Sally, and that’ll kill her because she’s allergic to peanuts.”

They both glanced over at the freckled girl in the corner, who was currently weeping while trying to disentangle a Lego piece from her red curls.

“Sally cries a lot,” Kent sighed, “but I don’t want her killed.”

“I don’t want her killed either,” Talia replied, “which is why I can’t share any of my pralines with you.” She smiled smugly, satisfied that he’d accepted her logic. The fact that Talia didn’t know whether or not Sally had a peanut allergy was irrelevant.

Kent was Talia’s bestest ever friend, but he was also a little bit stupid. Talia liked that about him because it meant he always let her have the final word on things.

Kent gnawed his bottom lip, still uncertain. “Except Ambrose said—”

“Do you want Sally to drop dead, Kent?” Talia demanded. “I saw someone drop dead from a peanut allergy once. They got real red in the face and started choking—” Talia grabbed her neck and made gasping noises to illustrate— “and then BOOM they dropped dead!”

(This was admittedly an exaggeration, but Talia had witnessed her cousin Jayden stabbed with an epi-pen at the last family barbeque. It had been very dramatic, and also satisfying because she didn’t much like Jayden.)

Kent’s pale face grew even paler. “I don’t want anyone to drop dead.”

“Because you’re a hero, Kent,” Talia said firmly. “That’s why I can’t share my pralines with you.”

Kent walked away to help Sally retrieve the Lego from her hair, and Talia felt a tiny twinge of guilt. But Kent didn’t understand. Talia couldn’t share these pralines; they were too precious. Pralines had been Daddy’s favorite, and this was the first time that Mama had made them since his death. The next batch, she’d share with Kent and maybe even Sally if the girl ever got her act together and stopped blubbering.

“Miss Parker.”

Talia turned around to face the newcomer, hastily hiding the Tupperware behind her back. From the exasperated expression on the older boy’s expression, he wasn’t fooled.

“I overheard your conversation with Zarneki.” Ambrose Kim, age twelve, spoke with the solemnity and gravitas of a disappointed teacher.

Talia rolled her eyes. Because he was the oldest in their after-school program, Rosy acted like he was everybody’s boss. He’d been the one who’d convinced Kent not to assist Talia with Operation Water Balloon, and she still wasn’t certain how Rosy had learned about her plans to run away during naptime last week.

“My mama says that eavesdropping isn’t polite,” Talia snapped at him.

Ambrose’s gaze narrowed. “Did your mother also say that you should share those snacks?”

Talia fidgeted, the seed of guilt that she’d felt earlier beginning to sprout. Her mama had told her to share the pralines, but . . .

“She said they were just for me,” Talia lied. “Go away, Nosy Rosy.”

Ambrose crossed his arms. He was short for his age, barely even taller than Talia. He was scrawny, too, and he had a weirdo habit of just standing in the corner and just . . . staring at people. Not to mention that Ambrose usually spoke even less than Kent did. So why did Talia feel so intimidated, as if her deception was being called out by an actual adult?

Whatever the reason, she hated it.

Talia raised her chin and glared at the middle of Rosy’s forehead (meeting his eyes was a little too scary). “These pralines are just for me,” she doubled down. “It’s my birthday!”

Today was not her birthday.

“Today is not your birthday,” Ambrose refuted.

“Is too!”

“It is not. Your birthday is January 24th.”

Talia squinted at him suspiciously. “How’d you know?”

“Put the snacks back in your bag,” Ambrose instructed, ignoring her question. “Next time, don’t take something out if you are unwilling to share.”

“You’re not gonna tattle to Ms. Adsila on me?” Talia asked.

Ambrose shrugged. “Why would I? The snacks are yours.”  He turned away, then paused. “The friends are yours as well, Miss Parker,” he commented. “To keep or to lose. Something to think about.”

* * * *

It took Kent over ten minutes to dislodge the entangled Lego from Sally’s hair, mostly because the younger girl couldn’t stop crying and flinched away at the slightest tug of a curl. Kent had been tempted to ask Talia if he could borrow her craft scissors, but his best friend was behaving . . . weird today.

“It’s out,” he finally informed Sally with relief, holding up the plastic brick for her inspection.

She sniffed gratefully, rubbing her sleeve across her face to wipe away tears. Unfortunately, the gesture only succeeded in smearing snot across her left cheek.

“Why’d you put a Lego in your hair, anyway?” Kent asked, trying not to stare at the snot streak.

Sally shook her head.

“You didn’t?” Kent asked.

She nodded.

“Was Clarence bullying you again?”

The girl looked away, refusing to answer.

Kent sighed. Sally was still a baby—she was only five, after all. He had to be patient with her. “Are you allergic to any nuts?” he asked.

Another headshake.

Kent had already figured as much. He didn’t know why Talia had fibbed about Sally’s allergy, but he trusted that it must be for a good reason. Or at least, a reason that Talia didn’t want to talk about. That was fine, because Kent had a lot of things that he didn’t want to talk about as well. Usually, that was why he and Talia got along so well: she did almost all of the talking.

Still, he’d really wanted to try a praline. He couldn’t remember the last time Talia had brought some in.

Kent stood and offered Sally his hand. She grabbed it, her fingers suspiciously sticky. Kent hated the sensation, but he couldn’t just leave Sally alone, not when she reminded him of the small rabbit he’d found in his grandparents’ backyard. The poor thing had been trapped between the metal fence links and had trembled with terror the entire time Kent had worked to free it.

Sally gazed up at him, an unspoken question in her red-rimmed eyes.

“Let’s get your face cleaned up,” Kent said.

She nodded, then used the back of Kent’s hand to wipe her nose again.

The classroom only had one sink, in the bathroom next to the cubbies, and it was already in use. Kent and Sally waited outside the door, Sally’s tight hold on his hand cutting off circulation.

The bathroom door opened, and Nick Wiseman, age nine, emerged. “Hey there, Kentucky Fried Chicken,” he greeted Kent, his wide smile revealing a top set of red-banded braces. “What’s shaken except bacon?” He threw back his head and laughed uproariously at his own juvenile brilliance.

Kent wordlessly held up the hand that Sally still held.

Nick’s smile flattened as he registered the girl’s red eyes and snotty nose. “What happened?”

“A Lego got caught in her hair,” Kent explained.

“Because someone put it there?”

Kent shrugged. Nick Wiseman took his role as protector very seriously, and Sally fell under his aegis by virtue of being his baby sibling’s best friend. Since Kent hadn’t seen Clarence harassing Sally, it felt irresponsible to voice suspicions.

“I was worried that something like this might happen today since Button isn’t here,” Nick sighed. He squatted down so that he and Sally were at eye level. “Did someone do this to you, Salome?”

“Where’s Button?” Sally asked, her squeaky voice catching Kent off guard. So she did speak, after all.

Nick scratched the back of his neck. “Chickenpox,” he said. “Button’ll be back in week or so.”

“I want Button,” Sally insisted.

“You can’t tell me what happened instead?”

The five-year-old cast the older boy a look of pure disdain. “You’re not Button.”

Nick forced a laugh and glanced at Kent. “I’ll take over from here,” he said. “Thanks for looking out for her.”

Kent nodded. Sally released his hand, and he surreptitiously wiped it on the side of his pants.

“I want Button,” Sally repeated.

“You can come over to our house later, squirt,” Nick said. “Once Button feels better and you’re not a snot-face.”

Sally glared at him. “I’m not a snot-face.”

“You sure are a snot face,” Nick retorted. “Probably should go get washed up.”

The little girl stalked past Nick into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. Then she reopened the door, stuck her tongue out at Nick, and slammed shut the door for a second time.

“You’re the snot face, Nicholas!” she yelled from the other side.

Nick chuckled. “Yeah, she’ll be fine.”

Those two had a very odd relationship, Kent decided as he rejoined Talia over by the bookshelves.

* * * *

“Are you mad at me?”

Kent looked up from the book he was reading (an Eyewitness book on large cats) and turned towards Talia. She was nervously chewing the edge of her thumb cuticle, the chapter book she’d selected earlier (Beezus and Ramona) lying unopened beside her on the rug.

“Because you lied?” Kent asked bluntly.

Talia nodded. She didn’t seem surprised that he already knew.

“No,” Kent said.

“Really?” Talia leaned forward. “Really, really?”

“Really.”

Talia frowned. “Why aren’t you mad at me, though?”

Kent squinted at her. Was that a trick question? “You’re my friend.”

“Yeah, but friends shouldn’t lie to each other.”

“Well, I didn’t lie to you,” Kent pointed out.

“I know that, dummy!” Talia’s lips pursed in a pout. “But I lied to you, so you should be mad.”

“Do you want me to be mad?”

“Of course I don’t want you to be mad at me!” Talia immediately protested. “But you should be. It’s the rule.”

Kent frowned. Personally, he didn’t see the point. His dad was always angry, and all that negative emotion seemed exhausting to carry around. Talia didn’t want to share her pralines this time. Kent didn’t know why, but he knew that there must be a reason other than Sally’s fake nut allergy. Talia wasn’t a greedy person.

Well, okay, Talia was pretty greedy, but she still usually shared with Kent.

“Are you mad?” he asked, turning the question around.

Talia looked confused. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“At yourself,” Kent clarified.

She took a moment to consider. “A little,” she finally admitted. “I need to get better at lying. It’s annoying that you always catch on.”

Kent closed his eyes and nodded sagely. He wasn’t certain that adults would approve of Talia’s conclusion, but it made sense. If Kent were a better liar, maybe his dad wouldn’t always be as angry with him.

“I’ll share my pralines next time,” Talia promised.

“Sure,” Kent replied, returning his attention to his book.

“You’re really not mad?” Talia asked again.

Truthfully, Kent was beginning to get upset, but only because Talia wouldn’t shut up and let him get back to reading.

“I’m not mad,” he mumbled.

“But now you look mad,” Talia argued. “You didn’t look mad before, but now you do! You look super mad.”

Kent didn’t reply, instead choosing to try and focus on reading the description of lion prides. Talia poked his ribs.

“Why are you mad?” she demanded. “You promised that you weren’t mad.”

Kent lifted his book higher, obscuring his face. Talia repeated the question a dozen more times, but he refused to answer and eventually she had to concede defeat.

“I’ll fix this!” Talia declared, standing up. “Once I do, you’re not allowed to be mad at me anymore!”

Kent sighed with relief after she departed. The misunderstanding was unfortunate, he supposed, but at least now he could finish his book in peace.

* * * *

Later that evening, an old woman stared in confusion at the tissue that she’d retrieved from her grandson’s backpack. Half of a smushed praline was still wrapped within, the other half having crumpled on the bus ride back home. Everything inside the bag was sticky as a result—it would need to be emptied, and the sugary residue rinsed out with hot water.

The old woman shook her head, both dismayed and amused. Kent had just gone to bed, which meant that answers would have to wait until the morning.