“Just so you know…” Erica sighed nonchalantly as she gave the steering wheel a twist, pulling the car out of the high school’s parking lot and into the pre-rush hour traffic.  “You’ve used up your favors with me for at least, like, four years after this theatre thing.”

                “Fair enough,” Peter said with a shrug, loudly enough that his sister could hear him as he sat strapped in to his protective box seat behind the driver’s side: the only location their mother had ever allowed him to ride in the car.  The opening atop the box gave him plenty of space to echo his voice off the high ceiling of the vehicle, but it still made conversation a little unwieldy unless he had someone accompanying him in the back row to lean over and speak directly in.  Generally when the whole family was on a drive, Jessica would happily call shotgun on the back seat so she could beam gleefully down at her brother in the box for the whole drive, but today it was just him.

                Fortunately, Peter was in far too good a mood to let the lonesomeness of his security abode get to him.

                The audition had gone as well as he could’ve hoped for.  Erica had set him down on the very edge of the stage, forcing Mrs. Parks to scoot up closer to make out his voice.  Once Peter had gotten over the sheer magnitude of the theatre stretching into a shadowy infinity, a place he hadn’t actually set foot in yet, he managed to refocus himself and put up the comedic performance of his young awkward life.   Calvin had actually cracked up at his delivery, and Mrs. Parks had snickered several times.  It was hard to tell in the placement of the stage lighting, but Peter could’ve sworn he even saw a smile crack on Erica’s lips.  Of course, this could’ve very well been an optical illusion, but who could say?

                Calvin and Bluebell weren’t so bad themselves either, and had obvious prior experience on a stage.  The former’s dramatic gestures and bellowing voice despite his small frame made Calvin a clear pick for at least something in the play, and Bluebell delivered her lines with a quiet sweetness that managed to swell and fill the space.

                After the trio of auditions had finished and been informed they’d hear about casting and callbacks within the next week, Peter was scooped back up by Erica and given a wink from Mrs. Parks on the way out, indicating for all intents and purposes that Tom Thumb was his.

                And now he was headed home, just in time to hit the road again in time for the six o’clock movie with Lisa.  Since the audition was over, Peter was able to channel his nerves almost exclusively onto the first date of his life and some alone time with the only girl he’d ever had feelings for.  Already he could tell the evening was going to be something of a roller coaster for his little heart.

                “Sooo…” Erica drawled, trying to sound disinterested in whatever was coming next, though Peter could hear she felt otherwise.  For a moment, he cringed, wondering if she was about to open another line of questioning about his ghostly reaction right before the audition, but his fear was quickly alleviated.  “…do you know what the hell you’re doing tonight?”

                “Oh,” Peter mumbled.  “Uh… I think so.”

                “You asked her out.  You did the easy part already,” she said.

                Easy part?

                “Great,” Peter chuckled sarcastically.  “Okay, so what’s the hard part then?”

                “The rest of it, basically,” Erica answered casually.  “Not like I know what I’m talking about, obviously, the way things ended up with Sean, but…”

                “So are you about to give me all the tips, or what?”

                “Tips?  I definitely don’t have any of those,” Erica said.

                “How about just be yourself.  That would sound pretty good, right?” Peter smarmed.

                “Only if “being yourself” doesn’t involve being a little smartass,” Erica retorted.  “It’s easy to tell you to do that.  Really what it means is don’t pretend to be what you think she wants.  Trust me, you have no idea what she wants.”

                “I don’t?” Peter answered, a little anxious in spite of his sister’s half-joking tone.

                “The day dudes understand what we want is the day the earth splits open,” Erica said.  “We’re way too complicated for you to keep up with, so don’t try.  Just do your talking thing.”

                “Right.  My talking thing,” Peter said with a nod.  “After all, it’s not like I have the arm length to pretend I’m going for a jujube and then put it around her shoulder instead.”

                Erica snorted.  “Exactly.  Use what you’ve got.  Which isn’t much, but it’ll do.”

                “That’s encouraging,” Peter said, shaking his head.  For a few more minutes there was silence in the car, which the freshman wasn’t entirely ungrateful for.  The more time he had to psych himself out, the better his chances were of avoiding a complete collapse via knee-buckling once the date was in full swing.  At least, that was what he hoped.

                He could feel the car slowing down as Erica turned down a narrower street.  He couldn’t quite see high enough to tell where they were from his low vantage point, but Peter knew they weren’t home just yet.

                “Where are we?” he piped.

                “It’s Friday and I ran like four miles yesterday.  I’m getting a freaking milkshake,” Erica informed him as they slowed to a crawl in the drive thru line.  “Want anything?”

                “Are you buying?”

                Hearing his sister heavily clear her throat for melodramatic effect, he didn’t even need to see her face to know how high her eyebrow must’ve risen.  “Ahem.  Uhh, are we already forgetting who agreed to drive you home every single fricking day for your little show?”

                “Didn’t hurt to ask,” Peter threw back with a shrug.  “Can I just get a straw full of yours?”

                “Fine, fine,” Erica mumbled as she rolled down the window at the microphone, preparing to call out her order, when she realized with a loud groan that the device was plastered with a poster informing all customers that they’d have to come inside, as the sound system was down for the day.  “I swear to God.  Nothing in this town works.  Ever.”

                “Are you still going to get one?” Peter said, trying not to laugh.

                “You better believe I’m getting one!” Erica retorted as she screeched into a parking space and undid her seat belt.  “You’ve got your fancy date and Jessica’s got her friend from dance class coming over for the night.  This is kind of the highlight of my weekend.  Are you coming in or not?”

                “Uhhh…” Peter mumbled.  His restaurant experiences historically hadn’t always gone with flying colors.  When they didn’t involve over-eager researchers approaching the family wanting to run tests on him, there often could be found a kid with the desire to prod him in the chest, and then at least a couple dozen awkwardly glancing eyes by default.

                But then again, he was about to embark on a similar public venture this very evening, and he’d have that pressure piled on top of the demands of not screwing up his date with the person he cared so deeply for.  Maybe this would be good practice.

                “I don’t care if you don’t want to come in.  I’ll roll a window down if you want.”

                “No, no, it’s cool.  I’ll come in.”

                “All right.  Get your annoying buckle thing off then,” Erica ordered softly as she opened his car door, spoken with the experience of someone who’d struggled time and time again with the specialized seat in her youth before her little sibling had the know-how to escape on his own.  Once Peter had the tiny straps tugged off his shoulders, he leaned back into his sister’s palm as it scooped down into the box to collect him.

                The early evening breeze, redolent of autumn and greasy fast food waste, felt good on his skin as his sister clutched him against the warm fabric of her shirt, and helped soothe him for the almost inevitable silent scene of their entrance.  To Peter’s delight, however, nobody seemed to notice his arrival, though he also had Erica to thank for that, who had strategically curled her fingers high enough that someone would have to be standing right in front of her to realize she was cradling a tiny human  in her hand.

                Even the ordering process went uneventfully as Peter watched the looming face of the cashier input Erica’s impending chocolate shake into the system and step back behind the counter before returning a minute later with the frosty styrofoam-contained treat.

                “That’ll be three-sixty-eight,” the worker droned, obviously half-asleep on the job, as she adjusted the black baseball cap of her uniform.  As she accepted Erica’s crumpled dollar bills, her eyes fell to Erica’s other hand, and in a bracing moment made eye contact with its five-inch occupant.

                Peter couldn’t blame her for the shock in her eyes as the change toppled from her trembling hand and clattered to the bleached tile, her mouth agape as she glued her gaze to the little human.  Though his anomalous existence had been well-known in his younger days, the years of home school had made it much easier to write him off as an urban myth or publicity stunt, which Peter was fine with, as it meant far fewer prying eyes.  Despite his sympathy for this probable situation, though, the freshman couldn’t help but feel a bit like a mouse used to feed the pythons in a pet store.

                “Oh my God!” the girl gasped, clasping her hands over her mouth.  The surprise had clearly awoken her from her minimum wage-induced haze of boredom.  Ignoring the dropped cash, she leaned further over the counter, practically laying atop it in an effort to get a better look at Peter.  Her bright brown eyes bulged with amazement, while her co-workers all seemed to have stopped in their tracks, as Peter could no longer hear the squeak of their sneakers or the bubble of the potato fryer at work.

                The freshman gulped.

                “Hey.  Excuse me?” Erica said in a voice of barely maintained civility, snapping her fingers.  “Could I get my change, please?”

                “He’s… he’s that… that guy, isn’t he?” the cashier uttered, shuddering a little, then added in a hushed whisper: “That little guy.”

                By now, the other workers at stepped closer to the counter for a furtive peek at the apparently astounding customer, though at least one had stooped to retrieve the dropped currency.

                “Ahem.  Change.  All I want,” Erica muttered.  She’d dragged the chocolate shake a little closer to the edge of the counter, but now her hand was held back out, palm up, and acting as an extra barrier between the steadily approaching cashier.

                “That’s incredible.  I can’t believe you brought him here!” the young woman continued, clearly not having registered a word of the seventeen-year-old’s reminder.  Her right arm rose from the surface, her hand up and her fingers outstretched as she reached closer to Erica’s closed hand.  “Please.  Please, would you… would you just let me…”

                The motion of the girl’s arm was slow and calculated at first, but in the next moment she was lunging out across the counter, her hand darting for Peter.  In the subtle violence of the moment, the boy watched over the curved crest of his sister’s fingers as the cashier’s grabby claws grasped the heel of Erica’s hand and gave it a tug, jostling the miniscule freshman hard against his sister’s shirt.  He tumbled head over heels, feeling for a moment the pull of gravity as he bounced from Erica’s palm, before landing heavily back against her thumb rather than the far less forgiving floor below.

                Peter heard the protests of several employees further back, moving to grab and restrain the cashier but having far too much distance to close in that split second when the object of her amazement was within her grasp.

                But of course, they weren’t necessary, because Erica had already sidestepped the woman, cutting off the contact with her quivering fingers in an instant.  In the subsequent instant, then, the elder Clark sibling had her fresh chocolate shake scooped up and steadied with her elbow pulled back, and with a flash of sloshing ice cream and a screech of surprise from the cashier, Erica had emptied her cup onto the offender’s face.

                There were a few gasps of shock from the fast food restaurant clientele somewhere behind the scene.  Peter’s chest heaved a little from the adrenaline of it all as he blinked in disbelief at the now-tranquil cashier wiping icy chocolate sludge from her face and uniform, shaking her head and avoiding eye contact as though she’d been slapped out of a hypnotic trance.  In a way, she had.

                The silence, punctuated by the slopping droplets of chocolate hitting the floor, lingered for several seconds as the rest of the others behind the counter stood blankly before this exchange, unsure how to proceed in the event of a fellow employee attempting to literally grab a customer into her hands.  A moment later, the general manager charged forth and rushed the cashier away from her post before throwing his hands pleadingly together in prayer.

                “So sorry about that,” he said rigidly.  “Would you like me to make you another one?  Free of charge, of course.”

                “That depends.  If you make me another one, I’ll probably throw it on this bitch again.  Is that okay with you?” Erica answered so seriously anyone listening would’ve known there wasn’t an ounce of joking in her proposal.

                Too stunned to respond in either the affirmative or negative, the GM backed reverently away from the ice cream-splattered counter and crossed his arms, his eyes apologizing but his vocal cords clearly unable to come up with anything else.  Nodding, Erica turned and stalked toward the door.

                Peter, meanwhile, no longer preoccupied with the strangers’ eyes on him, clutched the fabric of his sister’s shirt and curled his legs up closer to his stomach as he settled into the center of her palm again, strangely comforted despite the momentary excitement.

                “E-Erica,” he managed as his sister silently crossed the parking lot again.  “I… I-”

                “Okay, so maybe going in there was a bad idea after all.  I kept you from getting grabbed by a psycho, but I also didn’t get my chocolate shake, so we can probably call this one even,” Erica said simply, cutting her brother off before he had the change to stutter through anything as mushy as a thank-you.  “Cool?”

                “C-Cool,” he said, allowing himself a satisfied grin as they reached the car again.