This was a story for speedrent. I hope you like it!
Disclaimer: I don't own Rent.
His older sister, Cindy, was
babysitting him while his parents went to her parent-teacher
conference at Scarsdale High. Just as he was about to have his snack
of raisins -Mark didn't like raisins. They reminded him of prunes,
which reminded him of his Grandma Ruth, who smelled funny and always
pinched his cheeks to make him feel like a baby – the doorbell
rang.
"One second Markie," Cindy said as she went to the door.
Mark took the raisins on his plate and threw them by the sink. Only a
couple actually went in the sink; most of them fell on the white
counter or on the tiled floor. Mark turned his head around and just
managed to glimpse Cindy signing something brown and handing it back
to a shadowy man outside of the door. She picked up a very big box,
even bigger than Mark, and brought it inside.
"What's that?"
Mark asked, pointing to the box.
"It's a cardboard box. But I
don't know what's in it." Cindy replied. "Let's open it,
ok?"
Mark didn't know how he was going to open the box if no
one was ever going to let him use the pointy knife. And Cindy took
one of them out of a drawer and put it into the box. She opened some
flaps up and put the box on the floor.
"Oh look," Cindy said,
pulling something purple out of the box. It was big. Really, really
big. "It's a, sweater?" She looked really confused. "And
pants? Oh God." She looked at a piece of paper that must have been
in the box.
"What does it say? What does it say?" Mark cried,
flailing his arms up and down.
"It's a gift from Grandma
Ruth. She gave me a matching velvet sweats combo. It says, 'Happy
Birthday Honey! These are for you to use when you go to the gym. I
know you can do it sweetheart.' Oh God, these pants are size 24! I
can't believe her. The last time I was that big was when I was,
like twelve!
"They look fluffy," Mark said, laughing. "Big,
fluffy purple pants." He remembered seeing pictures of Cindy when
she was big. He was too little to remember it, but she looked like
two people. Two big people. But now Cindy looked a lot smaller.
"She
is the person I know," Cindy said to Mark, who was not really
paying attention to Cindy now. That box looked good.
"Can I play
in the box?" Mark asked, pointing at it.
"Yeah, sure,
whatever," Cindy kicked the box over to his chair, and went to the
garbage can. She lifted the lid and threw the velvet tracksuit into
it. "Now," she said, rubbing her hands together, "What should I
tell Grandma Ruth when she asks me how I like her gift?"
"Um,"
Mark said, lifting the box over his head, "Tell her that Maureen's
dog Rex ate it. I'm gonna play in the box."
As the phone rang
and Cindy went over to answer it, saying "Oh, HI Grandma Ruth!"
Mark began to make his own little world in the cardboard box, a world
where he had some friends, and they were all happy, a world where
Cindy was a small Cindy, and not two people. And most of all, a world
without a single raisin.
