Expo Spork & Mari - Vignettes

Katpride

Katpride

Story Collector


“Hey.”

Spork gently tapped their foot against the side of the beanbag Mari was nestled in. It was free time, and normally that meant they’d be out terrorizing the playground, but today was a rare exception. Mari was one of the few weirdos that stayed inside during recess, and they needed to talk to her, so here they were in the cool, air-conditioned classroom instead of out in the warm sun.

They made a face before plopping into the beanbag beside hers, laying their cane across their feet. “Put the book down, I wanna talk to you.”

They tried to keep their face serious, tapping the side of her sneaker with the butt of their cane to better get their point across. Hehe, butt. The smile caused by their private joke ruined their efforts for a moment, but they settled again quickly, growing solemn.

“Has anyone been bothering you?” Their voice was hushed, and they were leaning in slightly, making it clear their words were for her alone. It was weird to be talking to her like this, but they had to know. Because if it was true, then…

Then they didn’t know what they’d do. But they’d have to start thinking about it.

 
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“Hey.” Mari replied, eyes still moving smoothly across the pages, absorbed in the adventures of Jack and Annie. She knew it was Spork, since anyone else would probably have insulted her in the same breath as their greeting.

Mari didn’t respond, even when they tapped their cane against her sneaker. She considered ignoring them completely, but knew that would make any reading during the rest of the free time impossible. So Mari instead finished her page, made a mental note of which one it was, then set down the library’s copy of Winter of the Ice Wizard before finally looking up at Spork.

That wasn’t right. Spork was supposed to be all smiley and loose, not super serious and talking to her in hushed whispers. They were never quiet.

“I mean, kinda.” Mari shrugged her shoulders. “Gary ripped Summer of the Sea Serpent last week, so Mom had to pay for a new copy.” She glanced at the doorway behind Spork, one hand on her book in case Gary decided to continue his bloody rampage.

“Why?” Why the sudden interest? It wasn’t like they’d cared much about her before. They had their arranged playdates and dinners and ignored each other at school. Why would they reach out now?

 
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A shadow passed over Spork’s face at the confirmation of what they’d suspected. Gary. That jerk. They would have to think of something especially mean to do to him.

But hang on, why were they so angry? It wasn’t like he’d never done anything to them before. They turned their frown to the floor while they mulled it over, not wanting Mari to think they were mad at her.

This was different, they decided. It was different because it was Mari, and she might not be their best friend in the way that Penny and Janine were best friends, sitting together all the time and giggling even when the teacher was talking, but she was… Well, she was their friend. Or maybe they wanted her to be. Or maybe they just didn’t want anyone to pick on her, so that she didn’t get noticed by the teacher, and then they wouldn’t get noticed by the teacher either. Because they were neighbors, and their moms knew each other, and would talk, and that would be bad.

They weren’t really convincing themself with their own reasoning, but it didn’t matter. They had made their decision. Sitting up, they held out their hand for Mari’s. “I’m- no. We’re gonna get back at him. And if anyone bothers you again, I’ll make sure they don’t do it a third time.”

They were glowing with conviction, a smile finally breaking through the uncharacteristic cloudiness on their face. In a visible flash of inspiration, they twisted their hand, curling everything but their littlest finger into their palm. “I pinky promise.”

 
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Mari blinked up at them in confusion, processing the words that came out of Spork’s mouth. It wasn’t surprising that they’d made the snap decision, or even that they wanted to get after someone. Spork loved picking fights and causing trouble, especially if they thought they could get away with it. Which was most of the time. When kids came in crying from recess, nobody suspected that the blind one had caused it.

It was that they wanted to get after someone because of her.

Mari felt something settle within her, and she couldn’t help but let out a little laugh at Spork’s declaration. Truth be told she’d been trying to figure out how to get her own revenge on Gary since that fateful day. She just knew that he’d come back and tear every book he could find. But he wouldn’t mess with Spork.

Was this friendship? It didn’t feel like an arranged playdate or something strangers did for each other. Heck, it didn’t even feel like things that adults would do for each other. Whatever it was, Mari smiled back at Spork, reaching out to curl her little finger around theirs, forming an unbreakable bond.

“Pinky promise.”

 


Mari closed her book, chewing on her lip in thought. She’d moved on from the Magic Treehouse books and now was working her way through a series involving different tribes of cats. It seemed a little silly, and she’d already noticed several errors in just the first book alone. She had a little notebook that she kept on hand whenever she read the book, noting page numbers and their errors.

She was in Spork’s room. Spork was there too, of course. It was their room. You wouldn’t have been able to tell just from looking at it though. It was all soft and plush, with little foam bits on the corners of everything. It was a fuzzy sort of room that didn’t really match its owner. Spork was fuzzy in the same way a brick was, and their room felt more suited for an infant than someone who regularly jumped off the playground equipment.

Something had been bugging her, and she wasn’t sure if she should keep it a secret. Technically she didn’t even know if it was a secret. Spork’s disdain for school wasn’t exactly hidden, even if their parents turned a blind eye to it. She let out a huff. She had to.

“You’re failing.” Mari said quietly, glancing in her friend’s direction to see if they heard her. “Ms. Murphy told me.”

 
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Spork hated their room. They hated a lot of things, in a variety of abstract ways that they didn’t always have the words to express, but their hatred for their room was an old gripe, and so they were able to put their finger right on the point of it.

That being, there were no points. There were no sharp edges, no rough or spiky textures, no mess that was allowed to stay for more than a few hours. The bed was plush, and soft, and they sank deeply into it whenever they laid on it. They would’ve preferred to sleep on the floor, truth be told, but they were afraid that their parents might think they had fallen and reinstall the safety railings.

They would do a great many things to avoid the return of the safety railings, so they slept in the bed. Most of the time. When they couldn’t convince their parents to let them sleep over at Mari’s, at least, which meant it happened about thrice as much as they wanted it to. But in times like these, when it was just them and Mari? They were on the floor, picking at threads in the carpet while they listened to a Warrior Cats audiobook through their headphones.

There was just something about the casual descriptions of blood and violence that made them all warm and tingly inside, and the cute cats on the cover were enough to throw their parents off the scent. They’d even gotten Mari into the books, eventually, by using big words like “political intrigue.” See, they’re learning.

Mari’s voice filtered over that of the narrator, and they paused the book, tugging the headphones down around their neck so that they could hear her without their brain jumbling the two threads. Even so, they turned a frown in her direction, unsure if they had heard her right. “I’m what?”

Because it sounded like she said that they were failing, but Spork had never failed at anything. Well, they hadn’t done so hot on their latest vocabulary test, or their math quiz, or the science worksheet from the past week, but those didn’t count. Their parents didn’t know about those, couldn’t know about those, and if their parents didn’t know then they could just pretend that none of those things had ever happened, right? It had gotten them this far.

They turned to frown at her, already reaching for their headphones again. Their hands lingered on the cups, though, perfectly-trimmed fingernails tapping against the smooth plastic without making the commitment of lifting them. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I can’t be failing, my parents would’ve pulled me into private tutoring if I was,” they informed her. They weren’t sure what to call the sticky, twisting feeling crawling through their stomach, but they didn’t like it one bit.

 
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Mari knew they wouldn’t take it well. Spork usually tried to coast by on ‘what my parents don't know won’t hurt them’. But that didn’t always work, and the slight edge of panic creeping into their voice was a sign that they knew it. She set down her book properly, remembering her place, and turned to look at them.

“I found an envelope in her desk drawer, addressed to your parents. I read it.” It was really her fault for letting Mari stay in the classroom by herself during recess, while Ms. Murphy was busy trying to keep the rest of the kids from eating dirt and causing trouble. “It said you’re not doing as well as the other kids, and that you might get held back.” Amongst other things, Ms. Murphy had suggested that Spork’s parents not only get them private tutoring, but potentially send them to a special school for blind kids if the situation didn’t improve.

The nearest one of those was ten miles away. Mari had looked on one of the school computers. That wouldn’t do.

She scooted over to her backpack, unzipping the front pouch and pulling out a sealed and stamped envelope, addressed to Mr. & Mrs. Fuchs. Why would you trust a student to take a letter to the mail room, even if they were your favorite? Mari had no idea, sometimes adults just didn't make sense. She set it by them, one of the edges just touching their hand so they knew where it was.

"I have the letter." Mari said, with all the seriousness a fourth-grader could muster. "Your parents aren't going to get it. Not for a little bit, anyways." Of course, Ms. Murphy would eventually bring the letter up to Spork's parents, most likely at the next parent-teacher conference. So she had a deadline to work with.

"We're going to get your grades back up, okay?" She'd give them the answers if she had to.

Mari had only just decided to be friends with them, even though it had been months since Spork had offered to help with her Gary problem. They'd stuck around, even after they'd taken care of the issue. She wasn't going to let them go that easy.

 
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Every word from Mari, spoken in the same cool, controlled manner that Spork sometimes tried to mimic around their parents when they were talking them into something, only made the awful feeling grow. They gave up on the idea of going back to their book, ripping the headphones off and tossing them away when the feeling of them around their neck became too much to bear.

The impact didn’t even make a sound, because there were pillows and plush things everywhere. They hated it here.

When the letter touched their hand, they snatched it up. It was just smooth paper and sharp edges under their fingers, of course, so they had to trust that Mari was telling them the truth about its contents. It should’ve been obvious that Ms. Murphy wouldn’t feel the need to include any braille if Spork was never meant to read it, but the realization sent something white-hot running down their spine, cutting neatly through the knot in their stomach. They found that they were trembling for entirely new reasons, then, glaring daggers at the letter in their hands and grinding their molars together in inarticulate rage.

Of fucking course. Even when grownups were talking about redirecting the course of their entire life, they didn’t feel the need to let Spork in on the conversation. The only reason they knew anything about this was because Mari told them.

Mari. She had come to them, instead of following the whims of their teacher or their parents. She was making them an offer. They didn’t even have to think about it, really. The answer was waiting at the tip of their tongue when they reached past the anger. “Yeah. Yeah, we will.”

Mari was smart. She kept her promises, and didn’t try to hide things from them ‘for their own good.’ They would keep the bullies off her back, and she would help them pass their classes. It wasn’t the kind of friendship Spork’s parents would want them to have, or the kind that they thought they had already. The thought brought a smile to their face, sharp and victorious.

They tore the dumb letter in half, offering one side to Mari before they began to shred their own. Once the proposed future was reduced to scraps on the floor, they put their head against Mari’s and began to plot a course of their own.

 
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