The Vase by Mr. Peanut

 The first thing Barbie saw upon opening the front door was my glare.

—You think I wouldn’t notice?

His eyes widen, eyebrows flying up so high they almost caress his hairline. He freezes in shock, visibly pale, and if I didn’t yank him inside by the collar, he would no doubt keep standing there the whole night. 

—Well?

My gaze darts pointedly between him and the vase on the floor, or rather what remains of it. Barbie looks down and clasps his hands together, mumbling:

—I don’t know what you’re talking about.

I mentally berate myself for agreeing to this job. Babysitting this rascal of a child with a stupid name is not worth all the money in the world. He’s constantly causing trouble and making my life living hell. Maybe this unruly behavior of his is a way to take revenge on his parents for giving him such a name. Who names a boy “Barbie”? His parents once told me that it’s short for “Barbarian,” but when I laughed at that—they didn’t join me. Perhaps they were serious after all… 

— What’d you do while I was napping then?

—I went for a swim

—You look awfully dry.

—I dried in the sun.

I dart my gaze to the window to see dark clouds completely blocking the sun and raise my eyebrows skeptically.

Barbie gulps for the lack of a better response and starts to shiver.

— So you didn’t do something naughty and then ran away from the crime scene?

Barbie looks up at me with eyes so wide they might pop out of his skull, as if he didn’t expect me to be so right on the money. He shakes his head fervently, denying my accusations. I notice his eyes watering and almost pity the child before he yells out:

—I didn’t do it! I’m just a kid! How would I have known that matches are dangerous? Im only in second grade, they don’t teach us shit about fire, Okay? How would I have known that you need to extinguish it before tossing away? How would I have known that the wooden sheds catch fire? And I’m almost 100% certain Mr.Whatson wasn’t in there when it happened. I mean… I did hear screaming, but it might’ve been just my imagination!

Wait. What…? Now it’s my time to freeze in shock. I slowly glance back out the window, only to realize the “clouds” are actually the smoke coming from a neighboring house. Mr.Whatson's house…

—Barbie…

—I didn’t do it I swear! Besides, I don’t have any motive! I didn’t hate the guy! Oh god, he will never come over for dinner again. He will never smile again. He will never laugh again. Oh god oh god oh god..

He’s hyperventilating, greedily swallowing all the oxygen he can. His feet can’t seem to find the perfect spot on the floor as he paces around. His eyes dance around the room, as if trying to find a place to hide until he spots the derelict vase and pauses. Slowly, he lifts his gaze to me, eyes red and puffy, before asking: 

—You think mama will be mad about the vase?