Just what every girl needs! My own tool kit. -- Knitnan
The gift was way too heavy to be a new purse. Too large to be the makeup kit she'd been drooling over. Too small to be any part of a cute new outfit. Which meant that, once again, Dad had no flying clue about her.
Baeronice opened it anyway, and felt her heart sink. Blocky. Utilitarian pouch. Black, hard-wearing fabric often touted by the Survivalist Bros that Dad watched on his computer. And inside... what looked like a thick pair of pliers and a golden hammer?
"It's the most legal beginner tool set I could get," said Dad, who was bouncing in place with glee.
"...thanks?" Baeronice squeaked.
"The hammer comes apart to reveal some screwdrivers, and there's all kinds of functional tools in the handles of the pliers. Except a knife. You're not allowed to carry knives around. Not even utility knives. There's so many laws about that. There's scissors, so you can't take that on a commercial plane."
Baeronice barely wanted to take it anywhere. Of course, she had to take it any time she left the house. At least for a couple of months. Then she could "forget it" increasingly until the whole thing could be stowed in the back of her closet with the rest of Dad's tone-deaf gifts. "Thanks," she said.
"And it'll fit on any belt you have," said Dad. "So you can co-ordinate."
"It's black," said Baeronice.
"Black goes with everything, I remember you said that."
Mom would have said that Dad was trying. He was trying. He was very trying on Baeronice's patience. "Yeah. I said that," she said. When everything I wore was black. Her Goth and Emo phase was so over. Now her primary palette was pink, magenta, and just a dab of purple if she wanted to feel racy. A black pouch on her waist would stand out like a sore thumb.
Maybe she could pretty it up with pins for the months when she had to have it on her. Maybe use some of her paints to change it to something more like her aesthetic. It would wear off, but by then, it would be in the closet.
That was her plan.
She wore the thing, prettied up with pins, when she went out to celebrate with her friends. Who did know what she liked. And if none of them had gotten her the makeup, she could buy it for herself as a "from Mom" present for herself.
She had fun, of course, and could easily forget that the pouch was there. Nobody mentioned it beyond Zizi, who asked, "Direct Dad attack?" while pointing to the thing.
The four of them washed up at Darlinia's place, where she had a hot brother who Baeronice secretly drooled over. He was putting together some cool thing, which was in pieces all over Darlinia's parent's rumpus room.
"A Philips' head screwdriver," grumbled Danrolamin. "Why does it need a Philips' head screwdriver? Who the f--" he spotted Baeronice and her friends. "--flip... has one of those?"
Blushing, and hoping it was true, Baeronice said, "My dad gave me this toolkit thing? He said the hammer has a bunch of screwdrivers in it?" She fumbled the pouch around and extracted the hammer. "Uhm... I... haven't really looked at it before now?" There was a seam. She gave the thing an experimental twist, lefty-loosey. It unscrewed, revealing a regular screwdriver.
"Maybe there's more?" risked Maquaighleigheigh, who was also a little lovestruck around Danrolamin.
The non-regular screwdriver was the third one in.
"Awesome," cooed Danrolamin. "You're so cool to have that. Wanna help me put this thing together?"
Baeronice could not stop the stupidest laugh bubbling out of her before she could manage, "Oh kay...?"
The pouch and its contents would become a permanent fixture of her wardrobe from that moment on. Prettied up, of course, with the right kind of fabric paint and pins.
[Photo by Andrey Matveev on Unsplash]
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