Chapter Text
Ken sat on his couch, forcing another scoop of sherbet past his teeth. On any other day, he’d be out fixing something for Barbie, or making something for Barbie, or simply seeing Barbie. But not today. Today he was crying his eyes out, swallowing sweet ice, and listening to the home renovation channel on his TV.
He was on the episode where Handy Hero Bob fixed all the plumbing problems at the aquarium, and in the ending credits, all the sea creatures came up to give him high fives. Ken wanted a high five. Instead, he ate another spoonful and tried not to remember yesterday.
“Ken, I think we should break up.”
His tongue was numb. The TV was too loud. It shook where it was screwed to the wall, threatening to fall down and flatten him into a pancake. He waited with bated breath, kind of wishing it would.
But before it could, the screen fizzled out into static. Ken wasn’t in the mood to look for his tools, so he limped across the room and smacked the TV twice with the back of his hand. The program snapped back on, but this time, it wasn’t Handy Hero Bob staring at him. It was Barbie!
Ken dropped the blankets, hid the sherbet, and raked his hands over his face. Oh my gosh! What is Barbie doing here?!
“Hi,” she said, smile as white as a halo. Her blonde hair caressed her shoulders, shining gold even against her sequin tube top.
“Hi, Barbie.” His voice came out raspy. “I–”
“My name’s Barbie and I’m so excited to compete with my fab group of bffs in this year’s Amaze Chase.” Fireworks exploded behind her head. “Please tune in for the amaze adventures. And as always, thank you for your support. I would be nothing without you guys.” She kissed the screen and the words AMAZE CHASE, illuminated in fire, burned behind her. Ken felt himself deflate. Just a commercial…
A man appeared in the smoke. “You heard her. Join Barbie and her fab bevy of bffs on the Amaze Chase. This time tomorrow.” The man winked at the camera. “This has been your host, Randy Bravo. Now back to your prior programming,”
Ken muted the TV and laid down. Barbie’s face was soft behind his eyelids. Her lips, pink even under the lipstick, were sugar-sweet in his mind. Her bright blue eyes, intelligent and happy. Fine without him. Fine on her own. More tears leaked down his face.
If only he’d been a better boyfriend. He’d always made time for her. Always tried to make her happy. But he hadn’t tried hard enough.
The pool slides and tennis-playing robot he’d made for her hadn’t worked right. When he’d tried to help her reorganize her closet, he’d accidentally put her favorite sweater on her Spring bikini rack. And when she’d caught plastic pox, he hadn’t cured her. He’d only made things worse by catching it himself.
Ken knew making mistakes was normal. Accepted that and tried to grow from his failures when he could. But he couldn’t accept what had transpired yesterday because it never should’ve happened.
Ken had set his alarm, pressed his suit the night before, and had the bouquet of flowers ready to go on the counter. He’d cleaned out his car and polished the hood of it. He’d even waxed his shoes. All so that he’d look picture-perfect for Barbie’s movie premiere.
That morning, he’d hopped out of bed, relaxed and well-rested. He’d strode over to his shower without a care in the world. He’d pressed the button and breakfast had appeared on his table, and only while he’d been sipping his orange juice did he notice that the sun was a lot higher than it normally was at 9 AM. But still, he hadn’t lingered on that thought.
He’d turned on the television, scrolled through the channels, taking his time flipping to the news. The reporters were reporting, the movie stars were posing, and Barbie was in her long pink gown, walking the red carpet without him!
The rest of Ken’s memories of that day were a haze. He’d thrown on the suit, grabbed the flowers, and jumped into his car so fast, he forgot to lock his door. He drove like a maniac down the street, hitting mailboxes and leaving skid marks and puffs of smoke behind him.
He’d arrived just as Barbie was being handed her award. It was a bright gold star, with her name engraved in the center. Ken forced himself through the crowd of paparazzi and met Barbie on the stage. His cheeks felt hot, and he was sure he looked like a loser with his hair sticking up and his teeth only half flossed, but he swallowed down his misery and forced himself to smile. Luckily, Barbie laughed and patted his bed hair down, looking happy just to have him there.
They’d posed for pictures and walked down the red carpet. Barbie talked to reporters. She answered every question with ease, telling stories about her co-stars, and revealing what scenes she’d been most excited to shoot. Barbie handed him her award, so that she could accept a painting from a fan, and Ken looked at himself in the blinding gold.
He was sweaty, dirty blonde hair pinned down to his forehead, and gray-blue eyes wide with fear. Pit stains leaked through his suit jacket, showing up even against the dark fabric. He forced his arms firmly down and slid behind Barbie.
It wasn’t long before the premiere was over. Barbie climbed into his car and Ken hit the road. “I’m so sorry,” he’d said. “This’ll never happen again. I can’t believe I missed it. I’m so sorry, Barbie.”
“It’s fine,” she’d reassured, laying her hand on his shoulder. “I love the roses by the way.”
But what she’d needed hadn’t been roses. “I’ll find some way to make it up to you. I promise.”
Barbie had looked like a daydream, wrapped up in pink and placed in the passenger seat of his car. Her blonde hair was a beacon in the sun and her cheeks were brushed with the sweetest reds. When she’d taken his hand away from the steering wheel and held it in her own, he’d felt his worries fade into nothing.
“I think we should break up.”
Ken was brought back to the now. To the black TV, to his frozen teeth, and to the garbage dump he’d made of his couch. He blew his nose and cried into the snotty rag. Then he threw it over to the pile by his feet and opened up a new tub of sherbet.
***
Barbie’s dreamhouse was a pink and white mansion. Ken found himself standing in front of it before he even realized he’d left his house. His fingers were inches away from pressing the gold buzzer and alerting Barbie he was there. He tore his hand away. What was he doing?
He felt like a stray puppy, pacing in front of her door, hoping Barbie might take pity on him. It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. He sat on the steps, head in his hands, and sighed.
“Out of the way, Kenny boy.” Ken’s eyes jumped when he saw long denim-clad legs. Ryan. Ryan was Barbie’s neighbor and Ken’s ever-annoying nemesis. He was dressed in his usual gray v-neck and pleather jacket. The zipper was too big and it snagged along his shirt.
“What are you doing here?” Ken asked.
Ryan blinked down at him, pointing at the guitar case on his back. “I’m about to serenade Barbie with this way cool song I just wrote. It’s good, even for me. Now step back.” He shook his bangs out of his eyes. “The Ryan has arrived.” Ryan approached the doorbell in slow motion, finger shooting through the air like a missile.
Ken jerked, going to grab him– to stop him– but he paused. He wasn’t Barbie’s boyfriend anymore. He wasn’t Barbie’s anything. Who was he to stop this idiot from hitting on her?
The doorbell chimed and Ryan hummed, leaning against the doorframe. Ken wilted like a dying houseplant and slumped against the ground.
“Hey, why do you have a hoodie on? It’s, like, a million degrees out here.”
Ken shifted, pulling the strings a little tighter. “It’s none of your business.”
The silence trickled back in. Ryan rang the doorbell again. Ken retied his shoes.
Ryan was going to serenade Barbie. It wasn’t a big deal. It’s not like Ken was going to be replaced by him, right? His fingers trembled. His mouth dried up. “What’s the song called?”
Ryan smirked, posing against the door. “You Can’t Resist The Ryan.”
Of course. He should’ve expected that.
The doors to the dreamhouse opened and Ken’s heart skipped a beat. What could he say to her? Could he get away with saying he was just in the neighborhood? His cheeks flamed at the thought of such an excuse. She’d never buy it.
Biting down on his tongue, Ken tried to smile. It wasn’t easy, but he knew Barbie would be smiling, so he mustered one to match. When Barbie’s little sister, Skipper, appeared in the doorway, it slid clean off.
The teen’s eyes were glued to her phone, as she typed with one hand. “Sorry, guys. Barbies out on astronaut duty. She’ll be back in an hour.”
“I’ll wait, I guess,” Ryan sighed. He swung his guitar case around and trodded into Barbie’s house.
Ken hovered in the doorway, both wanting to enter and feeling like he shouldn’t. He eyed the steps again. Waiting out front until Barbie came back seemed like the better idea. But what then? No matter how much he wanted– and he wanted, he couldn’t beg her to take him back. He didn’t deserve her.
Before he could change his mind, he locked himself in his car, snapped on his seatbelt, and got on the road. He took the long way home.
***
There was a Ken-shaped dent in the couch, and he took his spot in it. Lying on his stomach, with a garden of tissues strewn all around him, he groaned. He didn’t know what he was going to do. He didn’t have a plan. All he had was this black lump of existential dread filling his stomach in ways that sherbet could not.
“Fathe– Ken. I mean, Ken. Which clothing item would you prefer I pack for you for our trip? Your jeans or your khakis?” It was Closet, the wardrobe-organizing robot Ken had designed for Barbie.
Barbie.
“Khakis,” Ken said, then froze. “Wait. What trip?”
“The Amaze Chase begins tomorrow. Barbie took the liberty of signing you and all her friends up for it.” At Ken’s distant stare, he continued, “Do you not remember? You signed the paperwork.”
A copy of the paperwork was dropped into Ken’s lap. He flipped through the pages, skimming the legalese, until he found his signature. It was on the final page, at the very bottom. A big K with a car doodled beside it.
Distantly, and rather suddenly, Ken did recall Barbie having mentioned something about a game show. There was some sheet of paper he’d signed over coffee. Nothing he’d given too much thought to. Ken stalked into his bedroom and pulled out his calendar.
Tomorrow: The Amaze Chase (Do Not Forget!) It was underlined in red and circled with a heart.
Ken scratched his head, feeling foolish. How could he have forgotten?
“Ken,” Closet called to him. “I’m looking forward to our rugged road trip as inventor and inventee. Maybe we can–” An alarm sounded. “Oh, my scones are done. Do not move. I will return shortly.”
Ken stood in his bedroom, alone for a moment, before it quickly became too much for him and he dove back to the couch. He couldn’t show up tomorrow for the Amaze Chase. Barbie wouldn’t want him there. And what would everyone else think?
Ken wished, desperately, in that instant, for someone to talk to. He had his friends but… they were Barbie’s friends first. Once they heard the news of their break up, he didn’t know if they would want to hang out with him anymore. He wasn’t charismatic like her. Wasn’t brilliant.
He clutched the pillow to his chest and moaned.
Closet returned, hovering over the couch for a beat. “Are you alright, Ken?”
“I’m fine.”
Another beat. “What is wrong?”
Ken quivered at the thought of telling him. He forced, “Nothing. I’m fine.”
“Do you have a preference on which belts I pack for you?”
He shook his head.
“Okay, then.” Closet dropped a scone onto a plate and put the remote back on the table. “Are you hungry?”
Ken wasn’t, but he took the plate anyway. “Thank you, Closet.” The scone was golden and warm to the touch.
“I wanted to discuss our strategy for winning The Amaze Chase.”
He licked his fingers. “Strategy?”
“Yes. There is no point in competing if we do not try to win. I’ve already packed the celebratory schlond-poofa and confetti cannons.” Closet patted a rolly blue suitcase. “Though I do not believe we can beat Barbie, we can certainly beat the others. Do you have any thoughts?”
Ken’s mouth was agape. Beat Barbie? He couldn’t beat Barbie. Sometimes he dreamed about it. Sure. Simply beating her at a game of Guess Who or Monopoly would’ve been quite the feat. But that was a dream. Something silly to imagine while he waited for her to finish changing in the dressing room. He wasn’t naive enough to–
A round of firecrackers exploded in Ken’s brain. What if he could? The thought was a whisper, soft and childlike even in his mind, growing louder with every pump of his heart. If he went up against Barbie in the Amaze Chase, fair and square, and won, what would happen then? What would she do?
Barbie’s silhouette was vivid in his mind. Her manicured fingers coasted over his cheeks, blue eyes large and adoring. Looking up at him like he was all she ever wanted. Like he was all she ever dreamed. Like he deserved her. He wanted to deserve her so badly.
And if he beat her, he would. She’d see that he was somebody worthy of her time. Worthy of her love. Worthy of being her boyfriend again. This was his chance to prove himself above all the other men in the world. To show Barbie that she hadn’t made a mistake in going out with him the first time. That he truly was the man for her.
With more energy than he’d had all day, Ken ran to the garage. He had a competition to prepare for.