I know this extremely short, but this is the second posting today, so…yeah. Hope you like it! Disclaimer: I don't own RENT.

Mark took a deep breath as he got into his new suit. It was finally here- his Bar Mitzvah. Gosh, he looked handsome- his days of looking cute were long gone. I kinda missed them, but I loved my 'grown-up' Mark just as much.

"Mark!" Mr. Cohen yelled gruffly from downstairs, "Hurry your butt up!"

Mark rolled his eyes before straightening his tie and stuffing me gently in his pocket.

"I need you to come," he whispered, "I need all the support I can get."

Break Here

"Congratulations Mark," Bethany said, giving her friend a hug, "You did great!"

"Thanks," he said, "I just can't believe it's all over. I mean, I've been preparing for this day for so long, and now it's gone."

"Oh cheer up!" Bethany said, "You've got a big party to attend tonight…in your honor! It's not over yet!"

"Dinner," Mark corrected, "A small dinner with my family and friends. Only the popular kids have enough friends, and money, for big, extravagant parties. Anyway, the dinner is just fine with me. I don't want to invite people I hate to something so special."

"Eh, move over kid," Mr. Cohen grumbled, "Let people of importance in Mark's life say their congrats."

Both kids rolled their eyes and Bethany walked away, engaging in conversation with Ms. Pratt.

"How did I do Dad?" Mark asked hopefully.

"I think you did great Mark," I said.

"Awful," Mr. Cohen answered, and Mark's small smile turned upside down, "You must have screwed up about ten times."

"He did not!" I insisted.

"Your speech was horrendous."

"What the heck are you talking about? Mark spent months on that speech. It was much more interesting than any other speech I've heard."

"Your voice was terrible."

"Mark has a beautiful voice. He could go professional if he wanted."

"Did I do anything right?" Mark asked nervously.

Mr. Cohen gave him the evil-eye before putting his arm around Mark's shoulder and saying, "Son, seeing as this is your Bar Mitzvah, I assume I should give you some advice as your father. Anything I say at the dinner tonight is total bullcrap, so listen to this instead. Mark, you're not that smart or handsome. You're an ugly little dimwit. If you're going to make it in this life, you can't listen to your heart and go chasing fools dreams. You have to choose and easy career. Maybe get an undergrad or something. You're never going to have a girlfriend, ugly and stupid as you are, so if a girl likes you, grab hold and never let go, because you'll never have another chance. This is your Bar Mitzvah, son. It's probably going to be the best thing you'll ever do. Knowing that, you don't have to try to do anything useful, not like you could do it anyway. And that, Mark, is my fatherly advice. Use it well."

Mark stood there, gaping, as his father walked off to greet guests. Tears sprung to his eyes.

"Oh Mark," I cooed, "Don't listen to him. Not today, not ever! You're a something Mark, not a nothing. You're going to make something of yourself."

Ms. Pratt walked up and said, "Mark, don't listen to him. I don't know what he said, but from the expression on your face, I can tell it's not good. This is your day, have fun!"

Mark nodded and Ms. Pratt gave him a hug. All I could think was, thank goodness for Ms. Pratt.