Mayhem in the mall! (Tweedles)

[THURSDAY DAVENPORT]

Causing mischief was simply what Thursday Davenport lived for. Well, that...and brightly-colored umbrellas, but that was beside the point. Mischief. Excellent stuff. Highly addictive, and no physical side affects if you did it right. His favorite, favorite drug.

He'd come today with his wonderful twin, Tuesday, with the intention of causing havoc, and the elder of the two twins was proud to say that he was the one that had decided they should meddle with the boutiques. The prissy upper class of all the stores in the mall, with all the expensive things and pretty glass windows and haughty cashiers. Yes, it was definitely a prime target for mischief, and Thursday was intent on ruffling the feathers of the graceful white swan.

That was a metaphor for the boutique, he was pretty sure...or maybe his mind was just on swans. No, no, it was definitely a metaphor.

"So many choices, so many choices," he mused cheerfully, subconsciously reaching out one arm to feel around for the presence of his twin. He wouldn't be as comfortable and prepared to do this deed if Tuesday wasn't by his side, and so, in that slightly paranoid way of his, he had to reach out and touch the other's shoulder to make sure he was there when his eyes were too intent on something else to look. In this case, the "something else" was a storefront.

"Got a preference? I'd be happy hitting any of them. Oh, oh, except not that one, I got a really nice scarf there once." Now he really did look over his shoulder at his twin, his hands going into the pockets of his skinny jeans. His grin was crooked, and his deep brown eyes sparkled with the thrill of the pre-prank.

This was going to be AWESOME.

[TUESDAY DAVENPORT]

Tuesday wanted a pony. No, really. Like, there were always kids who yanked on their mom’s arms and were like “Mommy, I want a pony!” No. Tuesday was not a little child yanking on his Mommy’s arm. Tuesday was getting a pony, and he was getting a legitimate pony. Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not in the next year, but sometime in the future, he was getting a pony. Case closed.

Because honestly, how badass would a pony be? Like, wouldn’t it be so awesome to just like, gallop through the streets on a pony? Oh! Or a crime scene! Like, after hitting up that Dunkin Donuts on the corner of 5th Avenue and East 79th. Like, instead of running away they could jump onto a pony and ride away. Like, how freaking badass would that be?

Really badass, that’s how. As badass as a cow driving a...a ferrari! A black ferarri. A dairy cow. That badass.

Tuesday was jerked from his musings by a soft hand on his shoulder. Tuesday grinned and felt for his brother’s shoulder, letting his fingers slide gently over the leather of his jacket. He felt the connection between the solidify, their minds synch together, their thoughts diverge into a single path. In a no-homo way. Duh. It was more like…okay, so you know how a refrigerator and a freezer…like how they were like, part of the same, but not…gah. Never mind.

"So many choices, so many choices.”

“Dude, I know.” Tuesday rocked up onto his toes to glance over the heads of the crowd that milled around him. “We definitely hit the jackpot here. Look at this.” He tightened the black bandana around his chin, grinning in anticipation.

"Got a preference? I'd be happy hitting any of them. Oh, oh, except not that one, I got a really nice scarf there once."

Tuesday thought for a minute. “Hmmm. Not sure. Any of them sell ponies?”

[THURSDAY DAVENPORT]

This was how the world should be. This was Thursday's life, complete. Planning extravagant pranks with his twin at his side was exactly how he liked to exist - it was his comfort zone, and being in it made him feel. . . just. . . alive.

He felt reassured by his contact with Tuesday and the feeling of his brother's hand on his shoulder as well, wondering at that wholeness. They were like the same person, and Thursday liked it that way. As long as he had Tuesday, there was no need for him to be an individual.

. . .wait a second, this was sounding too philosophic. Thursday stopped his train of thought right there and switched his attention to his brother.

“Dude, I know. We definitely hit the jackpot here. Look at this.”

Adjusting his own bandana, Thursday mirrored his brother's mischievous grin almost perfectly, laughing aloud with excitement. "I know, right?" He stretched up onto his tiptoes as well for a moment, then sank back down again, glancing at his twin and then back at the storefronts.

“Hmmm. Not sure. Any of them sell ponies?”

"Dude, it'd be totally awesome if one of them sold ponies, because we could jack one and ride it off into the sunset, but I don't think any of these stores sell ponies," he commented, reading the names on the storefronts. "How about that one? That window display is awful. It deserves to be ransacked if the manager's stupid enough to put puke-colored shirts in the windows, y'know?"

[TUESDAY DAVENPORT]

Tuesday was getting nervous. This was not a good setting for respected vagabonds such as themselves. Not, not, not, not a good setting. Too many people, too many security cameras, and their bandanas were sticking out in the throngs of blue skirts and pink polos that milled around them. This mall was a prankster’s nightmare. Like, literally. He had like, actually had nightmares about being caught red-handed in the middle of a mall. Not fun. Oh, and in one of them he’d been wearing a leotard and tights. God, that one still made him flinch.

"Dude, it'd be totally awesome if one of them sold ponies, because we could jack one and ride it off into the sunset, but I don't think any of these stores sell ponies.”

Tuesday slammed a fist against the wall. “Damnit! Why the hell not?” God damnit. What kind of store didn’t sell ponies? Like, come on. That store was called “Horse and Buggy.” Like seriously, why would you call yourself “Horse and Buggy” if you didn’t sell horses? False advertising, that’s what it was. If Tuesday were like, a lawyer, or one of those smart people from…what was that maroon place called? Har…Bar…Harv…whatever. If he were one of them, he would’ve sued them for false advertising. But he wasn’t. So he couldn’t. Or something. Whatever.

Still, it had been worth a try. Tuesday scanned the rows of stores, cursorily scanning the fronts for the tell-tale signs of an easy gig. Broken windows, neon signs, any sort of bouncer or a lack of security cameras.

“How about that one? That window display is awful. It deserves to be ransacked if the manager's stupid enough to put puke-colored shirts in the windows, y'know?"

Tuesday squinted but he couldn’t see which one his brother was pointing to. Still, he decided to hazard a guess. That was one of his many talents, after all. “Uh…yeah. Sounds great, dude.” He crossed his fingers behind his back, hoping he’d been talking about that “Horse and Buggy” place. He wanted to steal something from them. Just because they didn’t sell ponies.

[THURSDAY DAVENPORT]

“Damnit! Why the hell not?”

Thursday tried not to flinch as his brother slammed a fist against the wall, his eyes flitting briefly to his twin and then away. When Tuesday was upset, Thursday was upset, and so his brother's sudden outburst made him feel antsy and irritable. He shifted his weight from foot to foot a few times before replying.

"I don't know, bro. Because they're idiots, I guess."

Though he was in agreement that a store that didn't sell ponies was a travesty, he wasn't quite sure if there was a specific reason it upset his brother to such a degree or if it was just Tuesday being Tuesday. But...but wait, he usually knew that, he could usually tell, usually determine the source of Tues's reactions and moods...oh God, oh God, what if he was losing his touch? What if this separation they experienced at school was breaking the ties they'd had with each other and--

“Uh…yeah. Sounds great, dude.”

...that didn't help. He didn't sound too enthusiastic about Thursday's choice.

The nervous twin heaved a sigh, finding himself instinctively reaching for his brother again for reassurance. Nonsense. He was definitely overreacting. Everything would be fine between the two of them.

"Thisaway, then," he muttered, jerking his head towards Horse & Buggy, which was, coincidentally, the store he had chosen.

[TUESDAY DAVENPORT]

Okay so he actually didn’t care about getting a pony that much. Like, really, it was just a big giant cat thing or whatever, and geckos were much, much, much cooler. Besides, it’d probably be really hard to steal a pony if you didn’t actually know how to ride it, like he was pretty sure they didn’t. Creative idea, but obviously not achievable at the present moment. Okay. Normally he’d laugh about it with his brother and move on to the next break-and-enter, hit-and-run, or point-and-laugh.

Except neither of them was laughing now. There was a silence hanging suspended in the air between them that Tuesday felt pressing down on him during his interactions with a lot of people: teachers he hated with a passion, the weird popular kids when he passed them in the hallway, random strangers who complemented him on his hair, but never in a million gazillion years with Thursday Davenport.

What was going on with that kid? Tuesday examined his face, which seemed weighted and devoid of its usual carelessness, happy-go-lucky demeanor.

"I don't know, bro. Because they're idiots, I guess."

Just that? A monotonic weirdo romantic comedy sentence? Or…2 sentences? Was that how his brother answered questions? Something really weird was going on, and it irked Tuesday that he couldn’t figure out what the hell it was. He remained silent, trying to study the expression that he could usually read like a textbook, but somehow every time he glanced at the eyes identical to his a flame of fury flared inside his chest.

"Thisaway, then."

Damnit, weren’t they supposed to be twins? Like, some weirdo thingy with DNA or whatever that linked them in the mind? Why was it that he had absolutely no idea why his brother was being so weird, or why he, Tuesday, was being even weirder.

Was it that McDonalds trip, where he’d paid for her? Well Tuesday had made him do that. But still. And then there was the whole roommate thing, how he was never allowed in there even though Thursday knew everything about what he…well, yeah.

Tuesday followed his brother down the long hallway, staring at the way his brother was walking in relation to him: uneasily, almost warily.

In a sudden burst of anger Tuesday spun around to face his twin. “Okay, dude, what is going on with you?” He grimaced internally as the words came out: his voice sounded nastier than he’d intended.

[THURSDAY DAVENPORT]

Something wasn't right here. Something wasn't right at all.

This wasn't the way it was supposed to be, not in the slightest! They were brothers, TWINS! Weren't twins supposed to, like, feel each other's feelings or some crazy shit like that? Why was it so hard for him, then, to tell exactly what Tuesday was feeling? It was so...goddamn it, it was so frustrating that it made him want to scream. He hated this. He hated this not-knowing. In the past, he'd always, always known what Tues was thinking, been perfectly in sync with him...

Thinking of the separation put him on the edge of a breakdown. And breakdown's weren't cool. With a deep breath in, he pulled himself out of that grave before he dug any deeper.

Was Tuesday mad at him? Was that why--

NO. NO. NO MORE THOUGHTS LIKE THAT. He couldn't be so pessimistic, dammit! He wasn't supposed to be this cynical! He'd just...get along with the prank. Steal some shit. Feel better. Everything would be fine.

Or, he thought so, until Tuesday spun to face him and spoke to him in such a nasty, demanding manner.

“Okay, dude, what is going on with you?”

"...what the hell are you talking about? I'm fine," Thursday lied. Still, his eyebrows descended a fraction in concern. "I was going to ask what's going on with YOU. You're all...distracted. Do you even WANT to do this? Because I'm not making you."

Even if he did want to spend time with his brother more than anything else.

[TUESDAY DAVENPORT]

Tuesday continued to walk until he couldn’t bare it anymore. He stared straight forward, trying not to focus on the stuff that’d been happening. Ugh, this was so weird. He felt like some weird puppet person thingie had just like, grabbed onto him. And now the weird puppet person thingie was like, controlling what he said and did, and he was just watching. With like, no idea why he was doing what he was doing and stuff. Yeah.

He realized he’d stopped walking. See, here we go again. Weird, weird, weird. He felt like reaching up and punching himself in the face. God, why was he so stupid? Why was everything so weird with like, his brother and stuff? It was like…like…okay, he couldn’t think of a good metaphor. But it definitely sucked majorly.

"...what the hell are you talking about? I'm fine," Thursday lied. Still, his eyebrows descended a fraction in concern. "I was going to ask what's going on with YOU. You're all...distracted. Do you even WANT to do this? Because I'm not making you."

“Why the fuck would I not want to?” Tuesday’s voice reverberated throughout the hall, and he shoved his fist against his mouth the second the words had escaped. That had been a lot louder than he’d meant, and…had he just said the…firetruck word? What? He bit his lip uncomfortably. Blahh.

Oh! Metaphor idea! Okay, so it was kinda like they were playing tug-of-war, except not really. Because like, they were both holding opposite ends of a rope, but before it had like, been slack, but now they were like, both pulling on it really hard. Because it was like, tense and stuff. Except, he wasn’t sure what the rope was supposed to represent. So maybe not. But whatever.

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. He needed to just pull himself together and take a chill pill. He started walking towards the bathroom, his legs moving faster than ever.

[THURSDAY DAVENPORT]

This was just...ugh. This made him so goddamn mad. Why did he have to feel any negative emotions towards his brother? It was, like....not right. Not right at all. In fact, it felt monumentally wrong. So monumentally wrong that he wanted to build a monument to how wrong it was and then tear the fucking monument down.

Yeah. That was a fucking awesome metaphor.

“Why the fuck would I not want to?”

He watched his brother's reaction to his dropping of the "firetruck" word and almost sighed, but held it back. Shaking his head slightly, he shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, dude, you just, like, didn't seem into it. What were you expecting me to think? I can't do this shit alone, you know."

He was trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. Right now, he just wanted to go home instead of pulling this.

Oh, now Tuesday was leaving. Where was he going? Was he leaving? "Hey!" he called, taking a few steps toward him before stopping, wondering if maybe his brother wanted to be alone. "Where are you going?" he said, a little more quietly, looking down at his feet.

Normally, Thursday would immediately follow his brother wherever he went, maybe even link arms with him in a not-gay way to signify that they were connected. But today...well...

Well, if Tuesday wanted to be his own person...

Then Thursday would just have to be okay with that.

Yeah.

If he wanted to do his own thing, that was fine.

Fine.

Absolutely...fine.

[TUESDAY DAVENPORT]

Shut up. Everyone shut up. Tuesday wanted to shove his head against the wall and stuff his fists into his ears and scream and scream and scream until he had to go to the hospital and lie on his side and have a giant needle thing shoved into the back of his neck like on that one House episode where the guy, like, ended up with a giant bandage thing on his head or something. That had been a good episode.

But everything was moving so fast. One instant they were walking into the mall like freaking pirates searching for treasure. Like Captain Hook, except without the hook. And the alligator. And the blonde gay kid.

Not that he had a problem with gay people! Like, he loved gay people. Except not in a gay way.

Fuck, there he went getting distracted. And there he went with the firetruck word again. They never used the firetruck word. They’d always thought of themselves as above that, all the obscenities and aggression in society. So why was it suddenly in his head?

"I don't know, dude, you just, like, didn't seem into it. What were you expecting me to think? I can't do this shit alone, you know."

His brother’s voice pierced his thoughts like that arrow in that one Indian movie where the cowboy got run over by his horse or something. He spun around suddenly, feeling the anger coursing through his veins again. He clenched his teeth to hold in the words that he knew were going to come, but they came anyway. “I’m sorry if I don’t care about your stupid prank,” he snapped.

Why had he said that? Did he mean it? He loved pranks. He was pranks. It was their thing. His and Thursday’s. Right?

There was too much going through his head right now. He felt clouded, like so much was being stuffed into it that he couldn’t find his thoughts through it all. He felt a sudden annoyance towards everything in the world stirring inside him: his brother, school, the mall, movies, biology that fucking pony store. He needed to be alone, to sort things out.


Oh, now Tuesday was leaving. Where was he going? Was he leaving? "Hey!" he called, taking a few steps toward him before stopping, wondering if maybe his brother wanted to be alone. "Where are you going?" he said, a little more quietly, looking down at his feet.

He spun around again. “Fucking Narnia. Where’s it look like I’m going?”

He shoved the door of the bathroom open, kicking the wall as he heard the squeak of the hinges. They should make the doors better, so they didn’t squeak. Stupid construction guys. How could they not understand? He lurched into the first open stall, slamming and locking the door behind him.

[THURSDAY DAVENPORT]

No no no no no no no.

This...wasn't happening. He wasn't fighting with his brother. They, like, they didn't DO that. They didn't fight. It wasn't...no. That was a movie thing. Like...like what was that one movie...oh, God, he could always think of these connections, but now he was losing it.

He felt a swell of helplessness rise in him. He wasn't angry; all he wanted was to curl up in his bed for a few hours and get his act back together. Not think about this. He didn't want to think about this.

His insides felt empty, like a glass pitcher of lemonade he'd just knocked over...that was a stupid comparison, but it made him remember one time that he and Tuesday were drinking lemonade and he knocked the pitcher off the table...he couldn't even remember if it was on purpose or not.

“I’m sorry if I don’t care about your stupid prank."

Thursday just stared.

He felt the blood drain from his face, and he wrapped his skinny arms around his body, eyes widening. "Sorry," he mumbled, averting his eyes to the floor and taking a step back.

“Fucking Narnia. Where’s it look like I’m going?”

There was that firetruck word again.

Thursday winced at the sharp response and took another step back, his arms tightening around him. "Right...sorry..." Why was he apologizing to his BROTHER? Why was he apologizing for something that wasn't his fault? Why was any of this happening at all?

He listened to the sound of his brother storming off and felt his stomach sink into his feet.

All his clever thoughts on the matter drained out of his mind. He just turned and walked away, mind numb, eyes blank as a computer screen.