“IT’S SATURDAY!” voices shouted in shrilled, high-pitched voices.
Suddenly, the door to my room burst open. Frenzied and excited footsteps rushed to the side of my bed as I instinctively pulled the covers over my head, shouting back, “YEAH, IT IS. SO GET OUT.”
This was a morning routine:
1) Wake up.
2) Wake up Michael for no reason.
3) Annoy Michael for no reason.
“But Michael! It’s Saturday!” whined Lauren, 5, from the left.
“Yeah! We have the whole day to play!” cried Sharon, 8, from the right.
“And it’d be a shame to let you waste it!” shouted Lisa, 9, from the foot of my bed as she grabbed at my ankles, ready to pull with full force. And she did.
CRASH.
4) Pull Michael out of bed… for no reason.
I sighed, sprawled out on the floor as my three little sisters tugged and pulled at the blanket –the last
connection between me and sleep, torn away by three little girls not even in their double-digits.
“Guys… I told you to stay out of my room. ESPECIALLY. ON. THE WEEKENDS,” I shouted, still on my back.
Lisa pushed at my shoulders, “Oh c’mon… You’ll sleep the whole day away! We can’t have that!” She cleared her throat, “We’ve got things to do!”
“Like what?” I asked, annoyed.
She avoided the question, “Mom’s already got breakfast on the table! Let’s go!”
“Yeah! Lauren, I’ll race you down!”
“HEY! NOT FAIR, YOU STARTED FIRST!”
And so, just as quickly as they entered, the frenzied and excited footsteps left the room, racing down the stairs to the dining room where a plate of burnt pancakes waited for them.
“Michael! Young man, you better get down here right now! You’re burning daylight!” And for me, I guess.
--
I walked down the stairs with a yawn, and took my place at the table next to Lisa, forking two pancakes onto my plate. “Lisa, pass the syrup,” I said, holding my hand out expectantly.
“Well first, I wanna ask you a favor,” she grinned mischievously, her hands gripped tightly around the large golden-brown bottle. She dangled it in front of me by the handle, “And you have to say yes.”
“What? No,” I said, reaching for the bottle only to have it pulled away.
“Okay, so remember how I said we have things to do? I was kind of wondering if…” she started, but I didn’t let her finish.
I growled, snatching the bottle of syrup away from her, “Shut up and just give it.”
I started squeezing the syrup out of the bottle when a sudden, shrill scream made me squeeze it so hard the cap popped off. “MOM! MICHAEL SAID A BAD WORD.”
I rolled my eyes. “First of all Lauren, ‘shut up’ has two words, and second, saying ‘shut up’ isn’t even that bad!” I shouted, screwing the cap back onto the bottle. “See, I could’ve said fu—!”
“MICHAEL,” my mom slammed another plate of pancakes onto the table as her eyes stabbed through my very soul. She glared that ‘don’t you even dare’ glare that moms do sometimes. “Eat your pancakes,” she said, putting three more onto my plate.
“I wasn’t gonna say it,” I said defensively.
She looked at me, arching a brow.
“What? I wasn’t,” I said as I stuffed a burnt piece into my mouth, watching as she stepped out of the room back into the kitchen. Unfortunately, three pairs of eyes were still staring at me after she left. “WHAT? I SAID I WASN’T.”
Then, for a minute, there was silence. Nothing but the clinking of silverware and squirting of gooey, brown syrup.
“Can I ask you for my favor now?” a voice said meekly.
“LISA.”
--
Being up that early in the morning had its advantages: Saturday morning cartoons.
Hey, just because I’m in high school doesn’t mean I can’t sit on the couch and enjoy some mindless, cartoon violence, right? Besides, I had to be there anyway to watch my sisters.
“I don’t want to watch this, I want to watch Fairy Kiss!” Sharon complained, tugging and prying at my fingers to somehow get to the remote. She huffed and pouted when she realized she couldn’t.
“That’s such a stupid show, I don’t know why you guys watch it,” I said, reluctantly changing the channel as I stood up to walk to the kitchen. “Here, I have to do the dishes anyway,” I threw the remote onto the couch, chuckling while the girls squabbled over whose show they would watch: Fairy Kiss or Mighty Rover. Dumb.
“Hey Mike.” Lisa walked over as I poured myself a glass of water.
“Hey,” I replied after a gulp. I held up the pitcher in her direction, “Want some?”
“Oh, nah I’m good,” she said, shaking her head with a smile.
She stared, her eyes darting from me to the floor, back and forth, back and forth.
I stared at her. “… Can I help you with something?” I asked suspiciously. It wasn’t like her to be nervous about anything with me. She’d always been a bit of a blabbermouth, and was well-known at school for being a little too frank with her friends and teachers.
She opened her mouth, but hesitated. “No, nothing!” she said and ran out of the kitchen back to the living room where I could hear “Mighty Rover’s” mighty battle cry (Lauren must have won the battle over the remote).
Whatever, didn’t care. Must not have been important.
I grabbed the sponge by the sink. Time to do the dishes.
--
Click, click, click.
Facebook was all I had when I was stuck with babysitting duty. It was either Facebook or computer games; otherwise, there was the TV, overrun with fairies, superhero animals and princesses or extra chores that I didn’t have to do – though I’m sure mom would be happy to walk into a super-clean house after being on call
at work on a Saturday. I told myself I’d think about it. But I mostly only thought about it.
“Hey Mike.” That voice again. She’d been doing this all day. Following me around, asking me stupid, annoying, prying questions like: “Who’s on your Top 5 on your phone?” “Where are you going tomorrow? What’re you doing there?” “Do you have a girlfriend? Why not? Do girls not like you?”
It was starting to get annoying.
“What do you want now?” I asked, not taking my eyes away from the screen.
“Whatcha doing?” she asked, leaning in over my shoulder. “Face… book?”
“Yeah,” I replied.
“… What’s that? Do you like it?” she asked.
“Uhh…” I thought about it, hard. How to explain Facebook to a 9-year-old girl? “Well, yeah I like it. It’s… It’s a way to talk to your friends and know what they’re doing on the computer.”
“Oh… That’s weird. Why don’t you just call?” she asked a question that, honestly, I didn’t really know the answer to either.
“Because… It’s just easier on the computer? I don’t know. What’s with you and the questions today?” I asked in a frustrated tone of voice, turning the swivel chair around to face her.
“What do you mean? I can’t ask my big brother questions?” And there she was, getting all defensive like she always does.
“That’s not what I’m saying,” I said with a sigh. “Well, whatever.” I spun the chair around again to face the computer, back to my click, click, clicking.
She stood there for a while. Just watching.
"What're you doing?" I asked, turning to face her again.
"I need to use the computer," she said.
"... I'll tell you when I'm done with it then. Can you go somewhere else?"
"No, I want to wait. It's my homework so I have to do it while it's in my head."
"..."
She was being weird today.
--
Dinner time – basically, time for me to make the brats their Easy Mac.
Amazingly, they were still in the living room watching TV. I guess when mom’s not home they try to get in as much TV as they can, since I don’t really tell them that they can’t. It keeps them out of my hair anyway, so I never complained either.
I opened one of the cupboards and pulled out the blue box, sitting it on the counter as I bent down to reach for a pot underneath the stove.
“Hey Mike.” Again. Again. Again. Again.
“What?” I asked. I pulled the pot out and started filling it with water. “What is it this time? Are you stalking me or something today?”
“No. I just wanted to help you!” She took the blue box from the counter and started shaking it. “Easy Mac, again?” she looked up at me, as if disappointed.
I bit my lip. “What’s wrong with Easy Mac?” It was all I knew how to make. That’s why it’s ‘Easy Mac again.’
“Nothing. We just have it a lot,” she said, noticing my injured pride. “I like your Easy Mac though, so it’s okay! Yours is the best kind!” she smiled, holding the box up to me.
I smiled and took the box from her, ruffling her hair with my free hand. “Thanks, Lis.”
So weird.
--
“ALRIGHT GUYS, BEDTIME! LET’S GO!” I shouted from upstairs, down to the girls glued to the couch, “AND I DON’T WANNA HEAR ANY ‘BUT MIKE…’S.”
I said that, but I still heard a bunch of ‘but Mike’s as they came up the stairs, one by one.
"Brush your teeth... Brush your teeth... Brush your teeth..." I said, patting each of their heads as they stepped into the bathroom. I stood there in the doorway and watched; over the years I'd noticed that they'd do anything to skip brushing teeth, and while I remembered doing that when I was younger too, I also remembered the awful breath and taste that results from doing it.
"Hey Rike." There it was. Again.
"Yeah, Lisa?" I asked, pointing to a spot on her face where she'd flicked some toothpaste bubbles.
"Oh." She wiped it. "Do roo rike ush?"
"What? I don't understand toothpaste language," I said jokingly, causing the other two to giggle.
"Tuck in time!" Lauren and Sharon ran past me into their room.
"Be there in a sec!" I shouted after them; I could hear the springs of their beds creaking from their bouncing. Tuck in time would be tough today. Great. "Now, what did you say Lis?"
She spit into the sink. "Do you like us?"
It took me a while to respond, but I think it was because I was so taken aback. "What kind of question is that?"
"I'm just asking," she said with a shrug.
I felt a little awkward standing there with my little sister, having to answer a question with such an obvious answer. I'd never been really good at the gushy stuff: that was mom's job. "Sure I do," was all I could say before I left her in the bathroom to tuck in the other two.
--
Back downstairs, back on the computer. I usually waited for mom to get home from work to go to bed, and today was no exception. Facebook could keep me occupied for a good hour; if not, the TV was finally free so I could waste some time there too. Yeah. TV sounded good.
I closed the Facebook window and watched the mouse make its way towards the 'Start' button, when I noticed a document on the desktop that wasn't there before. It was labeled: "Lisa's thing - DO NOT OPEN."
Yeah, right.
Click, click.
The Person I Admire
By: Lisa Menderson
By: Lisa Menderson
The person I admire is my brother Michael. He is 16-years-old. He is really cool, and nice! Even though me and my sisters bother him a lot and we fight sometimes he is always still nice to us and does things for us. Sometimes, he even makes dinner for us! He makes the best mac and chees. He likes face book and computer games.
I admire Michael because I think he is like my dad. I never thought about it before, but I don't really remember my dad, and sometimes I get sad that I don't know, but I think it is okay because I have Michael, and Michael is like a dad. He is the best big brother.
...
Oh. That was why she was being so weird.
Footsteps on the stairs. Quickly, I hit shut down.
"Mike...?" Lisa was at the bottom of the stairs, hugging the railing.
"Yeah, what's up?" I asked, standing up away from the chair.
"... I just wanted to see if you were here because you weren't in your room," she said quietly.
"Yeah, I'm still here. I was just checking my Facebook."
"... Again? Is it that much fun? ... Well, okay. Good night." She started heading back up the stairs.
"Night, Lis. See you tomorrow."
She stopped and smiled. "Yeah, see you tomorrow!"
4 comments:
comment.
:)
It's cute. It's just one of those stories that make you all gushy and bubbly inside :) It was a well-written story that made you go aww at the end.
It doesn't really reach out much to an audience which really doesn't enjoy kids :\, although I'm pretty sure that was what you were aiming for! [Or people with close relationships with their siblings]. Sorry D:
You get into the heads of little kids pretty well - fancy that!
Michael reminds me of that one guy type you so like to write |D Not a bad thing! I like your trademark dudes. Although sometimes his narrative voice sounded girly.
I think what this story needs is contrast. A more irritated/flabbergasted/whateverhewas Michael to contrast with the Michael who actually (somewhere DEEP DEEP DEEP DEEP DOWN in his soul) loves his sisters.
Because even though the ending made me go 'awwww' It was just a little too sugary. And making the kids more annoying, or Michael more tired out by them, or showing that they really didn't know if Mike loved them - would've combated that. And I think you are capable of showing all that while still keeping the lightheartedness and humor in the story.
To be honest, not really my favorite of yours - even though the idea was cute and endearing! (Though. I think everyone here is so awesomely creative with their story ideas.) But I did write this keeping in mind that you are BUSY RUNNING AROUND WITH CHILDREN ALL DAY.
And. Uh. Uhm. DEATH TO BTR!
Tung here:
I think your story dragged on a little too long; after all, once you've established that Michael is annoyed by his sister in the morning introduction scene, you really don't need to do it again and again. Also, I think the mom was kind of unnecessary in the story, because she kind of appeared for just one shot and not heard from again. Likewise, I think you should've focused more on the dynamic between Michael and Lisa, instead of including the other two sisters along for the ride. Finally, I also agree with Sandy that there should have been a more stark contrast between his annoyance with his sisters and his love for them, because throughout the story the line is blurred between the two, which made for weak characterization of Michael. Also, he is such a complainer :)
Post a Comment