Andlat's Story Spot

"How'd I get myself into this?" Ethan asked his reflection. He quickly looked away, unnerved by his reflection wearing nothing but a pair of his sister's tights. He hadn't really gotten himself into it, but he knew how he had ended up wearing his sister's tights, her leotard and tutu waiting on his bed.  It had all been their sisters' fault. Three boys right around the same age, each with a sister who was also about the same age as the other girls. That was the sort of thing that meant you saw a lot of each other. Both trios were close-knit friends, always coming up with activities. About a week or two ago, the girls had had the idea of a photoshoot in their brothers' football gear - pads, jerseys, helmets, and all. That in and of itself was harmless. It was going to be part of some community newsletter or something. But then, Ethan's sister had asked a question at the dinner table.   "What are you three gonna do?"   "Huh?"   ...

  "I can't believe I'm doing this, I can't believe-"   "You can quit, Aidan." Mom said. "You've said that for the last twenty minutes." Aidan fought the urge to groan, knowing it would only make it worse on himself. What did she expect though? He was outside, in a tutu! And a massive one, at that.   "That's actually just what the order said." Mom had explained when he had complained earlier. "Massive tutu for my daughter's solo adjudication." The way Charlotte had snickered, Aidan still was not sure if Mom had been joking or not. Then again, Charlotte had snickered the whole time she had helped get him ready. He knew part of it was because she had escaped having to model Mom's latest creation, but it was probably mostly because her brother had been transformed into the very picture of a prissy ballerina.   "It's just across the street." Mom said. "Look, you can see the house right there....

"Mom! Don't walk so fast!" He had to practically jog to catch up. "We need to hurry, Alexander." "Alex." "There's a lot of things to prepare before showtime and that isn't even including getting you into your costume." The backstage area was still mostly empty and felt almost cavernous. That was a real stage he could see just through the curtains. "Nervous?" He shrugged even as he felt a few fluttering butterflies. "You'll do fine. I told you before what you'll be doing." "Running around, knocking things over." "Yep." She gave him a hug. "I really do appreciate this. I owe you one." He shrugged again. One of the cast members had gotten chicken pox. It happened. "Now quick go change and then I'll do your makeup." "Makeup?" "Stage makeup? Y'know, what you wear on stage?" She handed him a tidy bundle of clothes. "What are these?" ...

Growing up in a seaside town, Mike was used to tourists. His parents always talked about how the whole town was really a tourist trap. He didn't really understand what that meant. After all, people seemed to be able to live without any problems. All the same, it meant he always had new friends to make as he rode his bike around town. Who would he play with today, he wondered. It made every day feel like an adventure. He whizzed up and down the boardwalk. It was fun in and of itself to weave through the slowly walking tourists, but he needed something to do. Mr. Richardson who owned the bait shop always yelled at him if he rode his bike past there too many times a day. "Guess I'll go by the condos." He muttered, standing up on the pedals of his bike to go faster past Richardson's Bait. A bit of wind suddenly caught the bill of his cap and he jumped off his bike and chased after it as it danced along. Well, he wanted to go by the condos, he thought, loo...

Jess sighed as she saw that her sons had somehow gotten completely covered in mud. Well, Chasen looked a little better off than Connor, which only annoyed her more since Connor was old enough to know better. Seeing that they were heading for the back door, she immediately snapped into action, determined to save her freshly mopped kitchen floor. “Oh, no you don’t, boys. Muddy clothes off and rinse off with the hose.” “But mom.” “I’ll go grab towels and run a bath.” She said, ignoring their loud groans. Good. A bath should teach them a powerful lesson. Spying a pink bottle in the linen closet, she smiled. A very powerful lesson, perhaps. She had been saving this for a rainy day. Well, it had rained last night, hadn’t it? Hence all the mud that the boys had found. Grabbing a few towels, she returned to the back patio, shaking her head as she saw that Chasen and Connor were playing with the water more than hosing one another off. Setting the towels aside, she came over. ...

"What did I tell you?" She demanded from the boy on the ground. "Hmm?" "Your mom said I could come out here and play with you." He stammered. "But what did I tell you at breakfast, little cousin?" "To" he sputtered. "To spend all day playing with Emily." "That's right." She smirked to her friends. "Tell all my friends why." "Because... cuz she's a little girl and knows the right games to play with me." "And why's that?" "Because..." He whimpered, humiliated that a girl three years younger than him had pinned him to the ground so easily. "Are you a boy?" "No" he whispered. "Tell all my friends what you are, little cus." She said with a wicked grin. "Nice and loud, right at the top of your little lungs." "I'm a sissy!" He yelled. He felt tears welling up in his eyes, bu...

"Whatcha doing, Bobby?" Brandon asked as he walked into the living room to find his older brother sitting on the couch. Even though there were nearly three years between them, Brandon towered over Bobby, nearly the height of their dad already. Bobby looked up at him, trying not to make it obvious how much he had to crane his neck to meet Brandon's eyes."It's Rob now." He said. "Huh?" Bobby stood up as if that changed the difference in their heights all that much. "My name's Rob." He said as authoritatively as he could in his voice that had yet to deepen to the same octave as Brandon's. "Robert sounds too much like an old man" "Well, you're named after grandpa." "Yeah, so I think Rob works. I'm a teenager, you know." "Doesn't mom still write Bobby on your underwear?" Brandon teased, leaning down and lifting Bobby's shirt to check. The smaller boy quickly swatted his hand away....