"You pulled me away from the Sugar Sugar Rainbow Unicorn Friendship Hour marathon for that?"
In Carl's bedroom, Adelaide completes her dismissive remark with the classic stance of impatience; eyes squinting in derision, a narrow frown carved on her face, and her hands on her hips. Carl's used to it by now and almost laughs off her predictable reaction, especially since he knows that she'll be eating her words in a minute.
"'That', as you crudely put it," begins Carl as he gestures to the El Falcon grappling hook toy gun he wields in his other hand, the talon hook pointing out the barrel, "is a thousand…no, a million times better than that lame unicorn show of yours."
Carl expects a passionate response for taking a dig at her favorite show, and is more than disappointed and a little hurt when hardly a flicker of annoyance changes her bored expression. Sheesh, was this really that uninteresting to her?
"I dunno, Carl," Adelaide replies. "Pretty sure I've seen snail races that were more exciting than a grappling hook gun."
Carl glowers, her barb hitting the most tender part of his ego like an arrow shot clean through a bullseye.
"Nuh uh!" he says, pointing at her. "You're just making that up!"
His ruffled feathers only make way for his best friend to smirk and raise and eyebrow at him, her face lit up in a condescending glow.
"Like you made up the part about this being cool?"
"¡Cállate!"
Adelaide chuckles mirthfully and it's all Carl can do to not stomp on the floor up and down in a tantrum, as if he was his four-year-old self being denied chocolate from his mother at the store. He opts to growl in frustration instead, his vigor renewed in the hopes of seeing Adelaide's amazement at his gadget and her subsequent show of repentance for doubting him by literally kissing his feet.
…
Carl's stomach suddenly flops at the thought of that, as if he were in a boat cast to and fro by harsh, stormy seas. He can also feel a slight burning sensation pooling around his cheeks, and Carl suddenly realizes that maybe it's better not to dwell on the idea of Adelaide showing him remorse like that.
"Y-you just watch," Carl stammers, not completely out of the haze of his fantasy. "I'll show you just how cool this gadget can be!"
Carl remembers what his demonstration calls for and takes aim at the stack of soda cans he has set up by his desk lamp. Just one shot and they'd be all wrapped up tight by the rope. After that, Carl just knows that Adelaide will want a turn, probably to go out and tie up some…some…bunnies to play with or whatever.
Tongue cocked out of his mouth, the boy tightens his pointer finger over the trigger as he steadies the gadget in his grasp.
'Ready…aim…FIRE!'
…
Carl blinks. He does so again, and the reality of the situation remains unchanged. He looks over the barrel of the gadget and his crestfallen face causes his one audience member to giggle behind her hands.
"What the…hey!" Carl exclaims. "How'd the hook get stuck?!"
"I don't know, Carl. How did the hook get stuck?" Adelaide replies, as if she was playing along with a set-up punchline.
Carl catches on to her cheekiness and glares heatedly at her. "That was not a joke."
"Could've fooled me."
Carl decides not to joust back at her, opting to try and unjam the hook with coordinated precision and tact.
…
Or as much precision and tact can come from bashing his fist against the gadget, followed by repeatedly throwing it against the floor in a fit of rage.
"Why…won't…you…come…out already?!"
An amused, laughing Adelaide offers her oh-so helpful suggestion. "Try asking it nicely."
Carl does anything but, throwing his toy around every which way in a desperate bid for the stupid thing to finally work properly. But alas, two minutes or so of his best efforts leave him defeated and frustrated. He tosses the gadget aside to his bed and turns his back to it, as if he was giving a scolded dog the cold shoulder for peeing on the living room carpet.
"Hmph," Carl mutters, and the genuine look of disappointment on his face is enough to inspire sympathy from Adelaide.
"Aw, it's okay, Carl," she says, coming forward and clasping a soothing hand on his shoulder once she's close enough. "Maybe we can get someone to help fix it?"
Carl sighs. "I guess."
He notes her face taking a thoughtful visage, looking past him and towards the grappling hook.
"Here, let me see it for a sec," she says.
She might as well, Carl decides, even if he doesn't think it'll count for much. He hands it over and watches as Adelaide fiddles around with it, moving it around her hands as she gently prods the trigger with her fingers.
"Hmmm…I think I…ugh, no…uhhh…"
It doesn't take long for her empty grunts of exertion to take a considerable toll on his nerves, even if she's only had the grappling hook for a few seconds. This was getting nowhere, he sensed, and if he didn't figure out this jam in a hurry, there was a chance that he'd take a considerable dent in his cool factor for failing to entertain his friend
"Alright," Carl sighs, eyebrows furrowed. "That's enough. Give it here."
Adelaide's gaze flickers up at him for the briefest of seconds before it returns back to the toy. "No. I think I got it."
"No, you don't. Just let me have a turn again."
"Carl, just can it for a few seconds so I can-"
"Give it back, Adelaide!"
"No!"
"Give it!"
"Carl, quit it!"
Like all of their unresolved squabbles over a toy go, it gets caught between the Casagrande boy and the Chang girl who stubbornly refuse to give in to the other, each one grasping one end and tugging back for dear life.
This time, though, Adelaide isn't blinded by aggravation enough to not quickly use her obvious advantage in karate prowess and goes for Carl's legs to throw off his balance. She extends her leg out in a quick sweep and it succeeds in sending Carl backwards…
Along with Adelaide herself.
With his grasp still on the toy, Carl's descent means that Adelaide, with her hands all over the gadget as well, goes tumbling along with him. They both fall back, and it's the bed that's about to save Carl from landing back first against the hard floor and it's Carl himself that's about to save Adelaide from the same fate.
Carl's eyes shut before impact, and his world turns to darkness while his ears are alert to the indistinguishable sound of a *swoosh* that proceeds the accidental click of the trigger that his finger inadvertently presses against in his struggle.
He then hears Adelaide gasp sharply as he feels her small body tumble on top of him. The sound of metal clanging against his walls ricochets in his ears and along with that noisy drumming is the certain feeling of tightness that surrounds his body—almost as if it's a snake coiling around him rapidly.
His back finally touches his mattress, and his lips part as he grunts out a tiny "oof". Curiously, though, it's muffled against something rather…smooth? His nose is pressed against it (whatever it is), but he can still catch a whiff of a light tangerine scent through his compressed nostrils. He opens his eyes for clarity…
…and nearly swallows his own tongue from a hearty, nervous gulp.
Their struggle produces the results he had been looking for; an unjammed grappling hook gun.
It also produces the most awkward moment of his eight-year-old life.
Carl's toy is proficient enough to securely wrap up a stack of soda cans in a cinch.
Apparently, though, it's also well-equipped with the ability to tie up two best friends together, with one of their faces angled in such a way that their lips unceremoniously smush against the other's cheek.
Carl's widened eyes take in the situation and Adelaide's widened eyes do the same. They're frozen, stuck in place from both the rope and shock, and as realization slowly dawns, so does crimson slowly seep into their faces.
He feels his heart hammering against his rib cage like a wrecking ball against steel, and it takes Adelaide leaning back, no matter how slight she can manage with such constricted, close proximity, to end his accidental kiss.
But they're still glued at the eyes, their stare allowing the ever-increasing embarrassment and significance of Carl's mistake to truly catch on.
Seconds tick by, and it's Carl who makes the first move to comment on the matter.
"So…uh…that was…"
"Y-yeah…uh…"
"G-guess it works, huh?"
"Mmhmm…"
…
…
"Sorry about the…that thing I kinda did…"
"It was an a-accident. Y-you didn't mean it."
It pricks him in the chest like a fork through steak to hear her say that, as if in bitter accusation—her sad frown, along with her turning her head away to look to the side seems to confirm that.
Yeah, he didn't mean it, but it wasn't like he didn't…want to?
Did he want to?
No, of course not! Why would he?! And she wouldn't either, so there was no need to act stupid and also think that she was disappointed that he didn't mean it, either!
Carl decides that whatever shampoo or girly perfume Adelaide uses to make her smell like tangerines is a recipe for melting his brain into goo and making him come up with the dumbest of conclusions.
But one thing is still clear, even if his mind has nearly shut down.
They had better untangle before someone comes in here and gets the wrong idea.