REVENGE
Whatever we did he always beat me. He was a year older than me, a year cleverer and a year stronger. I was his little sister, a mere twelve year old, not even a big teen on the way to being a grown-up, Half the time he didn't notice me so involved was he in his friends and games. I lived for the other half because my brother, besides being my worst enemy was also my best friend.
Our Mum said she thought she was the perfect mother when we were little as we played so well together. My brother had been my greatest protector and I his greatest admirer. But now competiton had crept into our lives. He laughed as he raced me around the house. He chuckled when he beat me at tennis.He chortled when he bowled me out on the first ball in our game of backyard cricket. He guffawed when he raced the length of the swimmng pool touching down when I was little more than half way.
"It's just a stage he's going through," Mum said. "He's only doing it to tease you. You're stll better than him in some things."
"LIke what?" I asked in despair.
"LIke writing and spelling and cooking."
But they didn't count because he had no interest in those things.
I knew I had to beat him in something, somehow, something he thought he was better at that than me. But what?
My time came one winter's night when the fire was roaring and spitting, the wind was growling at the windows and the rain was dong a tap dance on the iron roof. I could see my brother's brow wrinkled in concentration. Then I saw my chance. With a yelp of triumph I placed my last tiles on the scrabble board.
Finally I'd done it.
Our Mum said she thought she was the perfect mother when we were little as we played so well together. My brother had been my greatest protector and I his greatest admirer. But now competiton had crept into our lives. He laughed as he raced me around the house. He chuckled when he beat me at tennis.He chortled when he bowled me out on the first ball in our game of backyard cricket. He guffawed when he raced the length of the swimmng pool touching down when I was little more than half way.
"It's just a stage he's going through," Mum said. "He's only doing it to tease you. You're stll better than him in some things."
"LIke what?" I asked in despair.
"LIke writing and spelling and cooking."
But they didn't count because he had no interest in those things.
I knew I had to beat him in something, somehow, something he thought he was better at that than me. But what?
My time came one winter's night when the fire was roaring and spitting, the wind was growling at the windows and the rain was dong a tap dance on the iron roof. I could see my brother's brow wrinkled in concentration. Then I saw my chance. With a yelp of triumph I placed my last tiles on the scrabble board.
Finally I'd done it.
