Seth's Journey: Part Four

It was dark again when Seth got home. Not just dinner time dark - after bedtime dark. The courtyard was silent as he walked through and he could hear every step. Not even the servants were up any more.

The empty quiet was almost eerie. The front door creaked as he opened it the smallest amount possible to squeeze through. The house was just as quiet and empty as the courtyard. Seth had never been up so late, past everyone else. He was surprised not to find his father pacing by the door, furious with his son for disobeying once again.

But no. Seth had been forgotten in the events of the day; even Juliet was sound asleep, exhausted from mourning.

Seth sank to the floor and hugged his knees to his chest. It was okay to cry now. No one was there to see him and tell him to be strong or offer awkward condolences.

But the tears wouldn't come. No matter how long Seth thought about it, his eyes stayed dry.

Finally, he rose and went to his room. Maybe sleep would help.

After a sleepless hour in bed though, he decided otherwise. Seth was restless. His mind darted from one thing to another. His mother was replaced by the Rabbi who was replaced by the physician's words which were replaced by the disciple's words.

On impulse, Seth grabbed a satchel from its place on the floor in the corner of the room. He stuffed it with clothes and the few coins that belonged to him. He took a few wheat pancakes, carrots, almonds, and radishes before returning to the courtyard.

This time, the silence didn't disturb him. Seth had a task - something to focus on.

He didn't pay attention to where he was going as he walked purposefully through the market for the second time that day. Dark figures moved in the alleys and distant yells and dog howls cut through the air. But Seth just walked straight ahead until he was outside the city.

A nice clump of trees offered shelter, and Seth settled in. He nibbled on a pancake as he drifted off to sleep.

-Kira

Seth's Journey: Part Three

The man sat on the ground with his back to Seth, speaking with his followers in between bites of his meal. Seth paused on his way up the hill. One of the men around the teacher noticed him and beckoned for him to continue. The rest of the group silenced and turned to look at Seth.

He swallowed and climbed the rest of the hill, avoiding the eyes of the Rabbi and his disciples.

"What is it, son?" the Rabbi asked. His face was weathered, but gentle and kind.

"Um, I wanted to ask you something sir."

"Please sit down."

Seth obeyed.

"Now, what is your question?"

Now that he was here, Seth didn't know how to say it - he wasn't even sure he wanted to any more. "Um, well, this morning..." He glanced at the teacher.

The man didn't speak and neither did his followers. They all watched Seth. So they all saw a quick tear slip down his cheek to the ground.

"This morning my mother died. I heard you speaking in the market the past two days, telling stories. I don't know what to do. She just died. And I wasn't there to say goodbye because I was listening to you."

"What is your question?"

Seth shook his head.

The teacher laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry that you lost your mother."

"Couldn't you help him, sir?" one of the men spoke up eagerly. "Isn't there something you could do?"

The Rabbi looked at his disciple. "His mother was already dead. She has only died physically."

Seth brushed another tear away and looked into the man's face. "What does he mean? Could you help me?"

"No, son, you must suffer this."

Seth leapt to his feet. "You're supposed to be a great teacher! Isn't there anything you can say? I came to you for help and you offered me nothing! Only that I must suffer." He swept one last angry glance around the circle of men and stormed back down the hill.

-Kira

Seth's Journey: Part Two

Seth tried to look normal as he walked through the house. If he looked like he was supposed to be there, no one would notice.

As he turned the corner to approach his mother's room, he heard voices. All thoughts of pretending to belong vanished. Seth flattened himself against the wall just before the turn and listened.

A man's voice spoke. "Will she be alright?" It was his father's voice, but something was different. It didn't hold the authority it usually held, but rather desperation and worry.

A sigh. "I don't know. I've never seen anything like it. I don't know what to do for her."

"Please! You have to do something! You've been our family's physician for years. You can't just let my wife die." The speech had gradually faded into a whisper.

"I'm sorry Scipio. There's nothing that I know to do. I'll come back every day and examine her. If anything changes, send for me immediately."

Silence.

"Thank you."

"Of course."

Footsteps slapped against the stone floor and Seth turned and ran out one of the servant's doors into the courtyard. A few of the slaves gave him odd looks.

The fact that Father was so upset unsettled Seth. He was the strong one who always had it together, no matter what. What was wrong with Mother?

He ran out of the courtyard and toward the marketplace. Seth had never really learned the lesson he was supposed to from punishments for going there. Instead, it now seemed like a secret forbidden place. Well, maybe not secret, but at least forbidden.

He wanted the anonymity of the crowds for a few hours so that he could think.

Even from a distance, the marketplace looked quiet. Upon arriving in the midst of it, Seth could tell that the teacher from the day before was there again. "Rabbis" the Jews called them. He told another story. Seth scoffed at the childishness but allowed himself to listen.

"The kingdom of Heaven is like the master of a house who hire laborors in his vineyard," the Rabbi said. "He hires some in the morning and sends them out to work in the fields. A few hours later, he goes into the marketplace again and hires more men. He sends them out to work as well. He does this two more times throughout the day."

Seth stood on tiptoe, straining to see above the crowds. He couldn't quite get a glimpse of the man.

"At the end of the day, the master paid his workers their wages. Every one of them received the same amount - those who had worked all day and those who had only worked an hour."

Righteous indignation on behalf of the workers hired in the morning rose up in Seth. He was a Roman and he knew what was just. This wasn't it.

"The workers who had worked longer grumbled and complained. When the master of the house heard about their grumbling he asked for an explanation. They told him that it was unfair that those hired late in the day should receive the same payment as those hired early." Seth nodded.

"Then the master asked them if they had not agreed to work for one day's pay. They had. He told them that he could pay the others as he liked - he had paid the first men what he agreed to pay them. It was up to him how to spend his money. He could choose to be generous with it if he liked. So the last will be first and the first will be last."

The Rabbi turned to his disciples and they moved away from the market. A few of the listeners chased after, some falling at his feet. The rest of the people went back to their business.

Seth just stood there. Every bit of justice printed into him over the years cried out against the unfair treatment of the workers. But what the master had said about it being his money and he could choose to be generous also made sense.

Seth began walking, trying to puzzle out the story. A minute later, he came upon another Rabbi. This one was gray haired and flung his arms through the air as he spoke. His disciples listened eagerly, but all of the other people on the street continued with what they were doing. Seth stopped to watch.

This one did not tell a story, but rather told what would happen if anyone disobeyed the laws of the Sabbath. Not nearly as entertaining.

Turning to walk home, Seth decided to return tomorrow. Maybe the Rabbi from the market would tell another story.


In the courtyard, he found Juliet sitting under a tree. He rushed over to tell her about the Rabbi and his story.

Juliet sniffed and wiped at her eyes when she saw him.

"What's wrong?" Seth asked.

"Sit down."

"Why?" Seth sat down.

Juliet stared up at the deep blue of the sky and took a deep shaky breath. "Mother died today."

"What?" Juliet may have spoken in a whisper, but Seth knew exactly what she said.

She turned to face him. "Mother died today. There was nothing the physician could do. He still doesn't know what happened."

Seth stood up. He paused and then walked deliberately toward the street.

"Seth? Seth! Where are you going?"

He didn't answer.

A moment later, a hand touched his shoulder, bringing him to a stop. He stared straight ahead, refusing to move or speak.

"Where are you going?" Her voice quaked.

"I'm going to ask someone a question."

"Who?"

"A Jewish Rabbi." Seth gently pulled his shoulder from her grip and walked out of the courtyard.

-Kira

Seth's Journey: Part One

Seth licked his lips, tasting the dirt and grit covering his whole body in a film. The evening sun relentlessly bore down on him and he felt a drop of sweat run down his back. Why did it have to be so hot?

The position of the sun, though, reminded him that he was supposed to be home. He quickened his pace, pushing through all the Jews in the marketplace. There sure were a lot of them. Seth looked around, irritated by the crowds. None of them were moving. They weren't going around buying things like you were supposed to in a market. Instead, they stood still.

As he kept shoving through, a voice grew clearer and clearer above the rustling and whispering of the unmoving Jews. Seth caught a glimpse of a man in the middle of them all, talking. He was surrounded by people on all sides.

Seth stopped working his way toward home. What could be so interesting that all the people had stopped their work to just listen?

Apparently not much. The man told a story about some ungrateful servant who demanded payment after his own debt had been canceled. Seth shook his head and kept going toward home.

He took a deep breath before going inside. By now, it was almost dark and he knew his father would be angry with him for staying out so late. He was a Roman citizen and as such, he didn't need to mix with Jews. According to his father, anyway.

Seth tried to sneak in quietly, without being noticed, but it didn't matter. His father paced in front of the door. Seth's entrance made him look up.

"Seth!"

"Good evening, father." Seth didn't look him in the eye, knowing the irritation and impatience he would see.

"Where have you been? It's dark out and you should have been home hours ago!"

"I just went for a walk."

"A walk? Among the Jews? I told you to keep your distance! There are plenty of Roman citizens nearby. Play with one of them!" His voice was still relatively quiet. Seth wasn't sure whether that was a good sign. Usually, by now, his father would be yelling and Seth would wear the obligatory look of remorse while feeling no such thing. But he wasn't yelling.

"I'm twelve. I think I can take care of myself!" This change in the pattern gave Seth the courage to test limits.

"No!" His father put a hand to his head and rubbed his brow. He sighed. "I've told you not to go walking in the market place before and I won't tell you again. Those Jews aren't happy that we're here and I don't want anything to happen to you. Go to bed." He walked away, leaving Seth to marvel at the ease with which he escaped the encounter.



The next morning, Seth ate breakfast with his sister. 

"You could slow down a bit," Juliet scoffed.

"I went to the market yesterday."

"Oh." She knew that would mean no dinner and her growing brother was probably starving. "See anything interesting?"

Seth shook his head. He paused in his eating. "Oh, wait. There was one thing. A man was speaking - telling a story - and all the Jews had stopped to listen. It was strange." He shrugged and went back to eating before remembering something else. "Who was that coughing all night?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full." Juliet lowered her voice. "It was mother. She got sick yesterday. Father's very worried. The physician doesn't know what's wrong."

Seth looked at his sister. "Is she going to be okay?"

"We don't know." She lowered her eyes. "Finish your breakfast."

To be continued...



Let me know what you think!

-Kira

When Snow Touched the Earth

I recently pulled out an old school project because my sister's doing the same one right now. It was one of my favorites at the time and I think it still is. For the class, we were in the middle of reading A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens. The idea behind the project was to take two sentences that you were given and expand them into a whole story or lecture or whatever you pleased.

Dickens was payed by the word and so he used a lot of them. This "maximalist" approach is what I used in my project, which I decided to post.

As you read this, you should know a couple points of background that I had in my head as I wrote. First, these are hobbit-like creatures. They're not hobbits, but they're quite similar. Second, they live in a future dystopian America, which happens to be part of the reason they're not actually hobbits.

Enjoy!

* * *

When Snow Touched the Earth

Beebo Appleby carefully yet firmly set his boot on the tile floor of his mother’s kitchen. He sighed. Twenty seven years old and still living with his mother, searching her kitchen for bites to eat. The room was small in a cute way. Not small in a cramped way as many houses were in those days. It was unusual to invite guests over in the winter for there was no space in which even to greet them. It was this new “regulated housing” that the fascist government had so raved about. They had insisted that it would be better for all the people, eliminating jealousy and thus also thievery, murder, and other crimes of the horrific type.

Some were happy with this new housing and others (like Mr. Appleby) were quite irritated by it. Not that being unhappy did any good. The government didn’t particularly care about what the people thought. Their iron grip was strong enough to allow them to do as they pleased.

The worn work boots padded their equally worn way across the black and white tiles to the small window on the opposite wall. They were lucky to have glass. Most of their neighbors had only sealed plastic wrap over the few openings in their walls. Beebo shivered in sympathy. Working for the government sure had its perks. Like central heating. The mayor insisted that there were simply not enough resources to heat every house in the city and the suffering of the few led to the benefit of the whole society.

Beebo rolled his deep brown eyes and leaned his forehead against the cold glass. A shiver went down his spine as the temperature outside battled with that of his body. Snowflakes swirled in a graceful dance across the meadow, leaving behind a shimmery white blanket to cool the earth.

The snow reminded him of Joanna. Just yesterday they had been catching snowflakes on their tongues down by the ancient frozen river a mile yonder. Joanna had brushed a few crystals off of her nose and giggled. A rosy hue had risen to her freckled cheeks in response to the cold. She twirled in a circle, dress spinning and smiled at Beebo. “I love the snow! There’s something about it that makes it seem like all of the troubles in the whole world will go away forever under the quilt stitched every winter. Something almost magical.” Then she giggled again and collapsed into a snowbank.

The happiness and joy that had filled him at that frozen river now left him empty and depressed. He patted his jacket pocket. It was still there. The letter had been delivered just that morning. Drops of water stained the page and the tilted handwriting was a little messier than usual.

Joanna had written to tell him that they had been relocated to Arizona. She had found out as soon as she arrived at the large family’s miniscule house the previous day. They could never see each other again. The swirling snow no longer seemed to be filled with light magic but that of a darker force. Beebo tried to be happy for her. Now the whole Smugu family would be warm through the winter and her father could have a better job. Everyone knew the economy was better in Arizona than Maine.

The soft clicks of high heels sounded down the hallway, recalling Beebo to reality. His mother and Mrs. Smugu had been very good friends and now he would have to give her the upsetting news. He turned to the doorway, resolve written across his stout features.

* * *

By the way, you should defintiely go read A Tale of Two Cities! It's kind of long, but one of my absolute favorite books that I've ever been assigned for school - I would have read it without the assignment. :)

-Kira

Potamiaena’s Prayer

This is a short-short story that I wrote as a project at the beginning of last school year. We were reading The Church History by Eusebius and we had to write a story about one of the many martyrs in the book. I chose a young woman named Potamiaena. Her story was only a page or two long, but I really liked it and wanted to spend more time thinking about it. So this is what I came up with . . .

* * *

Potamiaena stared up into the face of the judge, fear clouding her heart. She struggled to keep this same fear out of her voice and countenance. Her entire body ached, burned, and stung from the tortures she had already endured prior to this so-called trial. “I shall never worship your childish gods. They are invented only to provide something primitive and sinful for you to chase in ignorant hopes of fulfillment. I worship the one true God, the Creator of heaven and earth and His Son, Jesus Christ, now and forever!” Immediately, Potamiaena felt courage wash over her and she was now only faintly aware of the pain filling her body as she continued to stare at the judge, defiance on her face and in her stance.

The official’s look of shock and indignation rapidly evolved into one of anger and hatred. “Then you shall die! No one, not even a woman, can defy the gods and go unpunished!”

A soldier stepped forward to lead her away and Potamiaena willingly followed. As they made their way through the crowds to the road, he whispered her some comfort. “My name is Basilides. May I pray for you?” He began at Potamiaena’s nod of assent. “God, give this brave soul courage and faith through the end and keep Yourself at the forefront of her thoughts. Bring her to Yourself quickly and as painlessly as possible. In Your Son’s Name, Amen.”

Potamiaena whispered her thanks to the ground, so as not to endanger this kind young man.

Coldly, the crowd began jeering at her as she walked toward her imminent and torturous death. Basilides pushed the crowd away, driving them back and giving her room to walk, despite the oppressive nature of the bystanders. “Thank you for your kindness!” exclaimed Potamiaena, when they reached the place she was to die. She claimed one last glance at the single kind figure being swallowed by citizens of her former home. “I will ask the Lord for you and very soon I shall repay you for everything you have done on my behalf.”

With these faith-filled words, Potamiaena turned into the arena where she was to die. A tear slipped down her cheek, but she quickly brushed it away. Lord, she thought. Give me the strength to endure this for You. Help me to show them that I am not afraid to die for You. Let my death impact someone’s life. I look forward to seeing You soon. Oh, so soon. Potamiaena’s  prayer stayed in her heart through the last moments of her life. The thought calmed her from the fear of death and gave her a final smile at the thought of being martyred for her Savior.

-Kira

"Break Her Trust" Part Three

The last piece!!!! It turned out really short.... Hope you like it!

You can find Part One here and Part Two here.

The next morning, Megan left for school after ensuring that Justin looked presentable. She did. Once Megan was gone, Justin changed back into jeans with holes and a dark sweatshirt. She threw the nice clothes into her backpack to change into before coming home. She couldn’t let Megan see her without them. She even remembered to grab a brush on her way out the door.

    Justin shared a bus stop with Charlotte and she couldn’t start the day with teasing and questions. Instead, they talked about whatever came to their minds, including how poorly school was going. “I can’t get any of it!” Charlotte began. “It just won’t stick. I don’t know why they even try!”

    “Yeah. I just don’t get it. Especially math. What a pain!”

    “I know, right?” Just then, the bus pulled up and they climbed on, unhappy with the day planned out for them.

    Justin did not live up to the deal. She was late, she was dirty, and she still hung out with Marty’s group. But never in front of Megan. Things were going great until the next Wednesday when Justin’s mom got a phone call. From the school.

    Justin slouched in the cold plastic chair. She wasn’t so upset by the fact that she had been caught. That had happened plenty. It was the fact that the rest of Marty’s gang had split at the first sign of trouble. They had always got in trouble together if they did something together. If one of the group did something by themselves, it was on them. They weren’t getting bailed out by their friends. But they had never just left one person to suffer - it was usually at least two.

Justin hadn’t even noticed they had left. She was too busy reaching her thin arm up the vending machine and grabbing a soda to think of much else. That’s where Mrs. Newman had caught her. With her arm up the vending machine. It had been a short walk to the principal’s office, followed by a long lecture with a lot of “You’re better than this!” strung through it. The whole scene had been topped off by a phone call to her mother.

It wasn’t worth explaining things to her or the principal. They wouldn’t understand that it had been Marty’s idea, that the rest of the group had split as soon as Mrs. Newman had shown up. So she just sat and listened. She nodded and looked guilty when she needed to, but she didn’t think any of the adults were fooled. She was sitting there half listening when something caught her ear. “Since this is a third offense,” Principal Bright was saying. “I’m afraid it means a two day suspension this time.” That caught Justin by surprise. It had never been more than a week or so of detention before now. What would her dad say? Worse, what would Megan say?

    That’s what she was thinking about on the way home: what to say to Megan. Dad was like any other adult. Nod and look appropriately guilty. But Megan. She was not an adult. She really believed that Justin had been keeping up her end of the deal. She would be so disappointed. And Justin didn’t want to disappoint her. She didn’t want to break her trust.

 -Kira

"Break Her Trust" Part Two

Here's the unedited and unabridged part two of "Break Her Trust." You can find part one by clicking on the words "Break Her Trust" Part One. Enjoy!

The right time did not present itself that afternoon, though.

As soon as their little brother, Ben, got home, Justin withdrew from the world. This happened whenever she was around  Ben and their parents. She just felt so inferior to them. Her brother was a goody two-shoes, her mother a successful real estate agent, and her father an accomplished lawyer. Megan outshone her too, but she also had a way of making her feel a bit better about herself.

About an hour later, Justin’s parents got home within a few minutes of each other. Soon, they were all sitting down to dinner. All except Justin.

“Justin!” her dad called. “Dinner!”

“I’ll get her,” offered Megan.

She came back a minute later with Justin in tow. They sat down.

“Let’s say grace,” her dad began. “Father, we thank You for this food. Please bless it to the nourishment of our bodies. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

Justin sort of listened as she went through the motions of dinner. Get the food. Eat the food. Don’t listen to the conversation. But then something unexpected happened. “What have you been learning in Sunday School lately, Justin?” This was from her dad.

“I don’t know. Stuff,” she mumbled, without looking up from behind her hair. She knew what was coming and she didn’t like it. Sometimes she could come up with a satisfactory answer quickly enough to quiet his questioning, but tonight would not be one of those lucky nights.

“Why don’t you know?”

“Just ‘cause.”

“Do you mean because you haven’t been paying attention? At all?”

“I guess.”

"Why Justin? I thought we had talked about this before. You promised to pay more attention. You promised.”

Justin was silent.

“What else can we do to get you to pay good attention?”

She shrugged. Now for the promise.

“I want you to promise me you’ll start paying better attention and be respectful to the teacher.”

“I promise.” They both knew that the promise would not be acted upon. She was the only one of her friends that had to go to church. So she made up for it by texting Charlotte all through Sunday School, but there was nothing she could do during service under her dad’s watchful eye.

She tried to be even more invisible through the rest of dinner and excused herself as soon as she was done eating. She went straight to her room and lay down on her bed and stared at the ceiling.

That’s where Megan found her 20 minutes later.

“Want to start back in with English?”

“Sure. I guess. But it’s hopeless. I’ll never understand it like you or even Ben. Why should I try?”

“Because you can. I know you have it in you. Just give it a shot. For me?”

“I said sure. May as well get good grades so Dad can’t get at me for that too.”

“Okay. Let’s get started.” It was a beginning at least. Maybe Megan could talk about Justin’s “friends” later.

After about an hour of English, Megan decided it was time. “Hey, let’s take a break. You’ve been working hard.”

“Okay. And do what?”

“Well, there’s something that I’d like to talk about.”

“Alright.” Megan looked determined. It must be something important.

“Your friends. Who do you hang out with?”

“Marty and the gang. Why?”

“Well, I think you should probably stop hanging around with them. They’re not a good influence.”

“I know that. But they’re the only friends I’ve got. I can’t stop hanging out with them! Anyway, Marty would kill me on the spot if I told him that. And he would have three helpers.”

“You don’t have to tell him. Just find some new friends.”

“It’s not that easy, Megan. You don’t just walk up to some kid and say, ‘Hey, I’m sorry I laughed all those times Marty shoved you down since sixth grade. Can we be friends now?’ ”

“Look, I know that. But I have an idea. Dress neater. Pay attention in class. Work hard. And don’t hang out with Marty!”

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

“Wear jeans without holes in the knees for starters. And brush out your hair - like this.” Megan grabbed a brush and started pulling at Justin’s tangled mass of hair. Soon enough she had it smooth and shining. She parted it on the right. Megan sat back proudly. Justin looked like a new girl already. “Try being on time for class too.”

“Why should I do all this?”

“I honestly think things will turn out better for you if you just give it a shot. Please?”

“Just a trial run?”

“Just a trial run. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Great. Let’s find you a nice, neat outfit to wear to school tomorrow.” They proceeded to do so. Soon the whole day was planned out nice and neat, just like her clothes.

-Kira

"Break Her Trust" Part One

This is a story I wrote last year while we were in the middle of moving.

Justin laughed.The joke wasn’t that funny but if she didn’t laugh, Marty would get mad. And she didn’t want that. Marty was enormous. This was partly because he was supposed to be in the ninth grade, but was held back two years. He had messy brown hair and always wore a menacing look. Just your basic school yard bully. He could have (and would have) crushed Justin without another thought. That’s why she laughed.

Marty and his gang were the only people she could count on - her only friends. The group consisted of a short boy named Bobby, a lanky one named Chuck and an outspoken girl called Charlotte. As they walked toward class, each one in turn pushed a sixth grader out of the way.

A few moments after the tardy bell rang, Justin slid coolly into her seat in homeroom. The teacher sighed, but didn’t say anything. Justin was such a bright girl. If only she could see that, she might stop hanging out with such horrible influences and put her mind to her work. Justin was pretty, too. Her brown hair fell a bit below her shoulders and she was mid-height but thin.

As Mrs. Hampton began class, Justin sank hopelessly deeper into her chair. She would never understand all this junk. Why did she need to anyway? She glanced around the room at all the kids who did get it and wished horrible things on them. What was wrong with her? Mrs. Hampton made it all look so simple, and yet, Justin just didn’t get it. She settled in and half listened, waiting for class to be over.

When it finally was, she trudged to her locker, exchanged books and went to her next class: science with Mr. Brown. Science was just as dull and confusing as most of her classes and she again slouched and payed little attention. The rest of the morning went like this and she was grateful for the arrival of lunch. She met up with the gang outside and they did as much eating as teasing of any one they felt like teasing. Unfortunately, this part of her day lasted only an hour, then it was back to the drudgery of school.

The afternoon went much the same way as the morning until two o’clock. That was when she had art - the only subject she enjoyed. It was one thing that she knew she was good at. Today Ms. Mellony had them painting anything they wanted. It could be anything from unicorns to mountains. There were no requirements other than you must paint something and it must be an appropriate picture. Justin was painting a German shepherd. It was turning out beautifully - even Ms. Mellony thought so. The only thing wrong with art was that her friends scoffed at it. She tried to go along with them, but it was hard. If they ever found out she was good at art and liked it, they probably wouldn’t let her hang out with them any more. And she had nowhere else to go.

After school, Justin turned slowly to walk home. She hated going home to her seemingly perfect family, but since Marty was in detention for some prank or another and the rest of them were off creating another one, she had nothing else to do. So she grudgingly went home.

When she arrived home, she was greeted by her gorgeous and athletic sixteen year old sister, Megan. “Hey, how was school today Justin?” Not only did she make any sports team she wanted, she was a straight A+ student.

“Awful, same as usual,” Justin complained. Megan was the one person that Justin could talk to about almost anything. Megan was the one person that listened.

“I’m sorry. Anything go wrong in particular? Or just general stuff?”

“Just general stuff. I can not for the life of me understand anything but art.”

“Well do you want help with anything? I can help with just about everything but art. I’m a terrible artist!”

Justin laughed. “That would be great. Thanks.”

The two girls went into the kitchen to grab some milk and cookies (their favorite childhood snack) and then went to the room they shared to begin working through pre-algebra problems. The work was slow and steady, but Megan was a great tutor and they eventually got through. Her sister’s simple explanations were the only things that kept Justin’s grades from absolute disaster. That’s how pretty much everything worked. Megan kept the room clean, helped Justin remember her chores, and she helped Justin talk through any problems she had at school. The latter happened quite often. She was seldom home this early. She was usually with the gang, causing trouble or serving detention for trouble previously caused. Megan was always relieved when Justin did come home early. She knew Justin could act a lot better than this, but she didn’t know how to help her. She would just have to wait for the right time to say something.

-Kira