As I step into the two story, well lived-in house after a long day in school, I look to my right. There the hall opens up into a disorganized toy room with only three walls; the fourth was removed to add a spacious feeling to the house. One of the remaining walls is almost completely glass so the sun shines in; there is no artificial light other than a small lamp beside the computer on a standard sized cluttered wooden desk. Sitting at that desk, taking his 30-minute break before his minor homework burden, is my nine-year old brother. He uninterestedly greets me without taking his eyes off the computer screen, engulfed by his current doings. I glance over by habit to see what he is so consumed by, even though I am sure of his activity before I see the boxy familiarity of a Minecraft avatar. I sit down at our dining room table to begin my towering pile of homework, and Shane skips into the large room that serves as both our dining room and living room. From across the table he begins babbling on about how he won Hunger Games twice, beat the dwarfs in War, and bought a diamond fire-aspect sword with his War Points. He sounds like a mechanical engineer from some other country.
As I try to decode his alien speech, I stare up at him from my seat with misinterpretation in my eyes. He has almost the exact features as mine right down to the olive skin, long eyelashes, and green eyes. The only differences are his brown hair, cut short and spiked up and his height; he is almost a foot shorter than me, which makes sense because he is also five years younger.
At that moment he looks up and asks, “How long will you be in Japan?” I smell citrus on his breath and know he had eaten his fill of oranges before I entered the house.
“Only thirteen days; it will fly by like nothing.” I see tears welling up in his eyes. I know he adores me and will miss me terribly, but I also know he will be fine while I am gone. It always upsets me when he is hurt, because I have affection for him that is endless, cherish our time together, and care for him with every ounce of my being like every sister should.
“What did you do today in fourth grade, Bud?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
“I just got math homework and played soccer. Ally slid and almost fell but caught herself right before.” Ally is this little blonde haired, blue eyed girl Shane has had a crush on since kindergarten and he is not giving up on her any time soon.
“Were you good for Mrs. Walter today?” I thought it ironic that he had not mentioned his teacher. He glances away causing me to infer he had been caught talking again and did not completely understand his math homework because of it.
“She is just mean… I don’t talk that much, and she never calls on me when I raise my hand. That kid kicked me again in soccer.” He looks up at me with watery, sad eyes.
“If he does it again, let him know your big sister will be there the next day to get him in BIG trouble!” The thought of someone treating my little brother disrespectfully enraged me, but my comment got him giggling, and that’s all that really mattered.
I look down at my Algebra II homework. At that moment he reaches down to grab a handful of pistachios from the bowl I had prepared for myself, not him.
“HEY! Those are mine!” I joke and falsely glare, but that does not faze him, he just grabs them and pops one in his mouth. He heads back to continue his obsession but stops short.
“I think I’ll go outside and play soccer instead!” Shane whirls around and runs out the back door, jumping over the fence with an innocent grin, his not yet straightened teeth almost completely cover with orthodontic brackets.
I stick my head out the sliding glass door and shout, “You have your homework done?”
“No, but I barely have any!” He shouts back.
“Did you ask Mom?”
“Can you ask her for me?” he shouts again. He is half way across the field and waving at his already playing friends by now. I did not have the heart to call him back and have him ask, so I roll my eyes and close the glass door. He must have taken that as a yes because he was running and jumping in to the already active game of football/soccer/wrestling. Boys, I will never understand them. After I informed my mother of Shane’s whereabouts, I sat down to finish my past assignment.
“Shania! Shania!” I hear faintly from the back. I stuck my head out the door once more.
“What?”
“Can you get me a water bottle?”
“I’m doing homework!” I began to feel frustrated.
“Can you please just grab it for me? Sorry,” I slid the few feet I had to reach the water bottles and then chucked one over the fence. Shane shouted a thanks and ran after it at the same time. I shook my head, thinking. I thought of how much I love him, how I could not live without him even though he drives me crazy half the time. He really is a perfect little brother, at least compared to my friends’ siblings. I was brought back to Earth by the sound of the back door slamming and the T.V. clicking on. I look up to see the T.V. sitting right in front of me, and Shane sitting on the couch with the remote in his hand.
“Shane, I’m doing homework!”
“I’m watching T.V., SHHH!”
“You have to turn it off, I am still doing homework and you have not done yours yet and police officers don’t miss their homework time!”
“I don’t want to, I can do it later, and I don’t wanna be a police officer anymore anyways. I want to watch T.V.” He raised his voice, and I fell anger welling up into my chest and warming my cheeks.
“Mom, I’m still doing homework, and Shane needs to do his, and he has the T.V. on too loud!”
My mother shouts from her office upstairs, “Shane you better get your butt working on homework!”
With that he quickly turns off the television with a nerve-calming click and begins his homework. I smile a self-satisfied smile and look down at my work. I love him dearly, and he is a very good kid, but nevertheless he is my brother, and what is a brother without fights, frustration, and of course true joy.