The Devil on Kazoo

5: New Kid

Clowns to the left of me!
Jokers to the right!
Here I am stuck in the middle with you.

"Stuck in the Middle with You", Stealer's Wheel

"This is the third time this month," Smiley complained. "I'm beginning to think you just forget things only because you want to go back to the store."

"Do not," Kathy argued. "I forgot to get matching thread for the costumes. We can't all be wearing breathtakingly splendid colors with ugly thread stitching it all together."

"Considering how drunk people would have to get to come see us, I'm surprised they'd see anything at all."

"Smiley Gibbs," Kathy scolded, coming to a stop on the street. She planted a fist on her hip and lifted a pink, albeit chipped, nail. "Don't you start disrespecting our band just because you didn't want to get up early on a Saturday morning."

Smiley gave her the same frown that had earned him the nickname "Smiley" in the first place. "I'm not disrespecting anyone. All I'm saying is that people don't notice the things you notice."

"And?" Kathy challenged.

Smiley sighed. "Alright, alright. How much further is the store?"

"That's the spirit!" Kathy looped her arm through his, having apparently forgiven him his trespasses.

Smiley ambled along with her wide gait. Kathy was a year older than he was and they were almost exactly the same height. Smiley told himself that she was unusually tall and often comforted himself in the fact that he'd outgrow her within the next six months or so.

He longed for the day not because he generally desired to be tall, but because, perhaps, if he was tall, then everyone would stop treating him like a kid.

He knew, deep down, that he was an equal member of The Crumbs, yet he was the only one who had to go to school.

He tried not to complain about this because he knew how much it meant to Bash that he got an education. Even now, five years after their parents' death, Bash was still trying to please them just like he had when they were alive.

Smiley didn't blame him. He missed their mother and father just as much as his brother did, even though he was only ten when they died.

He hated when Bash tried to fill their spot, especially when both of them knew he couldn't, no matter how hard he tried.

"Here we are," Kathy said, nearly yanking his arm out of its socket as she darted into the fabric shop.

Smiley would never admit to liking the shop out loud, but he couldn't deny that the smell of fine fabric, oiled sewing machines and the sight of so many spools of material perfectly lined up with each other was a thrill for the senses.

Even the thread was neatly organized on a wall, fading in and out of colors like a rainbow.

"How do you choose which thread you want?" Smiley asked, shoving his hands in his tattered coat pockets as he looked up at the wall.

"You let the fabric speak to you," Kathy replied. Most people would assume she was joking and didn't actually believe this. Smiley knew better.

Kathy unveiled a swatch of blue cloth that she'd been using to make Bash's vest. For fifteen whole minutes, she held the fabric up to each thread to see which one would match.