Art Deco ▷ Ned Leeds | ✓

1 - KID'S GOT A FUTURE

Brooke carefully placed the drawing in her school folder, not wanting it to get ruined, and ran over to greet her mom and sister, ready to go home.

Liz and Brooke spoke over each other during the car ride, Liz talking about dance while Brooke talking about school. Neither girl really listened to the other, more focused on getting their turn to talk, as is the way with most children their age.

"Girls, girls," their mother finally said as they continued to follow her around the house, "Why don't you save some of your stories for when your father gets home?" She gave them a tired, yet convincing smile and both girls decided that, yes, that was a good idea. Their mom was always so smart.

So Brooke headed up to her room to do her little amount of homework while Liz went to her own room to do the same, her workload significantly more substantial. They both eagerly awaited the return of their father from his job.

It was a few hours later when Adrian Toomes finally returned home. The girls often wondered why he used his own last name, but they used their mother's and he explained that their mother didn't see any reason why they couldn't take the woman's name and he didn't see anything reason either, but he used his own for company distinction.

They didn't know what company distinction meant, but they guessed it had something to do with work, so they didn't ask.

When he arrived home, he was immediately bombarded by his daughters, shouting at him simultaneously, trying to get his attention.

He looked over at his wife, shocked, and she just smiled at him, holding up her palms as if saying, 'now you know how I feel.'

"Girls, girls," he said, putting them down after hugging them, "Dad is really hungry, so how 'bout we eat first, then you can show me whatever it is you two wanna show me."

"I'm gonna show you my new dance," Liz explained, tugging her father towards the table, Brooke doing the same.

"Oh nice! Brooke, are you gonna do a dance too?" he asked, glancing at his youngest daughter.

Brooke huffed. "No, I don't dance anymore, dad." Her father often forgot what she did and didn't do, it got pretty annoying at times.

"Well, that's nice," he hummed absentmindedly, already heading over to the dinner table, both girls latched onto his legs.

Dinner went by quickly, the girls eating quickly. Liz didn't eat much, saying that she couldn't dance if she ate too much because her stomach would hurt. Brooke was hungry and ate, but ate too fast, which meant she got the hiccups.

"Stop laughing!" she cried as Liz giggled at her from the other side of their small dinner table. She hit the wood with her fist. "It's not funny!" She could feel tears prick at the corners of her eyes as her sister continued to laugh.

"Brooke," her mother said sharply, "Calm down. Liz, don't laugh at your sister."

"Sorry," Liz sighed, jumping down from the chair, heading up to her room to put on her leotard and tutu. Her mother made her take a shower before dinner, so she had to get dressed again.

"Can I show you my picture now?" Brooke asked eagerly, watching as Liz made her way up the stairs.

"Sure, pumpkin," her father said, leaning back in his seat, sharing an amused look with his daughter. The two watched as their youngest scurried off to her backpack, pulling out her picture from her folder, bringing it back.

"Don't get it dirty," she commanded, pushing his plate and placemat away, leaving just the slick black wood.

"Alright," he chuckled, his wife laughing behind her hand; their daughters were precious, no doubt about that.