“You’re out!” Despite yelling at him as he ran around the makeshift bases, he continued to run.
He scoffed at me and kept running.
“Maybe you didn’t hear me,” I goaded, holding the kickball in my hands as I trotted alongside him. “But you’re out.”
Even at only thirteen years old, my brother was an asshole of epic proportions. He knew he was out, but still claimed, “It bounced rightafter I kicked it,” with a smug look plastered on his face.
Though we were twins, we were fraternal and looked nothing alike. He grew three inches this summer and had actual muscles. They weren’t huge or anything like that, but they were more than any of the rest of us had.
As Patrick crossed home plate, the rest of my team corralled around him, calling him a cheater. “The ball bounced rightafter I kicked it,” Patrick repeated with more than a touch of disdain in his voice. Ever since we were young, this was his way of things. He lied, time and time again until the person to whom he was lying had enough and walked away, dropping the entire situation as if they never cared in the first place. Needless to say, he got away with pretty much everything at home.
And I hated him for it.
He walked around like his shit didn’t stink, like he was the king of the entire palace; and, for whatever reasons they had, my parents let him get away with it.
It wasn’t that they took it out on me or had different expectations for me. It was more like they simply didn’t feel like dealing with Patrick and his tantrums. His attitude had essentially bought him a lifetime Get Out of Jail Free card.
When he smiled at one of the girls passing by the game, flashing his bright white teeth, perfectly straight without even having to wear braces, my annoyance bubbled over. It had been simmering all summer and had reached its boiling point.
Without giving him any warning, I jumped on his back, making him lose his balance. We both tumbled to the ground, but before I could get my bearings on everything,he was already on top of me, holding my hands above my head.
“What?” he taunted. His fingers bit into my skinny wrists and no matter how much I struggled to get away, I knew he had me. “What did you think you were going to do? Beat me up?” My stomach twisted in a knot when I saw the crowd of kids gathering around us. Nothing set the stage for the first day of school like being beat up by yourown brother.
Even though every word of defense I could think of was stuck in my throat behind the choking emotions rising to the surface, I was able to get out a muttered, “I hate you.”
Of course it had no effect on him.
He leaned back, evaluating the reaction of everyone in the crowd. Lamely, which was the only way I could do anything, being stuck underneath him, I tried to buck him off myhips. It was pointless because apparently he was made of steel. “Aww,” he taunted. “Look who wants to get up.” That got a roar of laughter from his friends.
Again, he checked the pulse of his friends and when he was satisfied with their riotous laughter, he cocked his arm back as if he were going to punch me.
Waiting for the blow, I closed my eyes and turned my head. I could only hope it wouldn’thurt too much and that the embarrassment would be short-lived, which wouldn’t matter of course, since it would be reborn when my father saw it.
But the blow never came.
“Leave him alone.” From behind closed eyes, I heard a voice from somewhere beyond my brother. Then his weight was gone from my body. Scurrying away from the shadows dancing above me, I tried to make out what was going on, butthe afternoon sun was blinding.
Patrick’s attention was now focused solely on the boy standing between him and me. And while I was thankful for being rescued, I hated that I couldn’t rescue myself.
“Yeah, and what the hell are you going to do about it?” Patrick seethed. In his words, I heard echoes of my father’s voice. I saw glimpses of my father’s distaste for everyone and everything thatwent against how he thought things should be.
With a casual ease I wish I had, the other kid dropped Patrick’s arm and took a step back, not out of fear, but out of what I could only figure was a desire not to be the instigator. “Nothing,” the kid said, and Patrick’s friends all called him a pussy for doing nothing. But when he said, “Only a weak man hits first,” I knew the entire scene was farfrom over.
Patrick scoffed and took a step forward into the other kid’s face. “I’m a lot of things, but I’m definitely not weak.” On his last word, he made a fist, cocked his arm, and, in the blink of an eye, swung at the boy like it was the last thing he’d ever do.
The sound of a fist crashing into a face rung out even over the cheering and screaming. To everyone’s surprise, the other kid wasbarely affected. He moved his forearm under his nose, wiping up the trickle of blood falling from his upper lip. As I moved out of the blinding sun, I caught a flash of his face and I was surprised to see a deep red welt on his cheek already visible where he’d just been hit.
Calmly and with some kind of strange confidence, the other kid took one step forward into my brother’s personal space.He said, “You’re going to regret that,” and my brother’s only response was a blip of humorless laughter. As I watched the entire scene in some kind of detached and fascinated state, I kept wondering how the hell my brother had become so angry, so violent, so hateful.
Before the other kid could even get a punch in, a teacher caught onto the commotion. He walked over to the group and broke it allup, asking, “Everything all right over here?” The teacher looked at the kid’s bloody nose and my breath caught in my chest. He was going to rat out my brother. Then Patrick would blame me. We’d get into a fight at home. He’d deny starting the entire thing and my father would go on about how weak-minded and feeble I was.
“We’re fine,” the boy said, swiping at his nose again. “Just caught the kickballin the face and everyone was making sure I was okay,” he lied.
Satisfied with the story, the teacher walked away, telling us recess was over. We all made our way over to the entrance of the school. As we filed into the building, my brother scowled at me and the boy who’d stuck up for me. Even though that particular scene was over, I knew it was far from the last time I’d hear about it.
And whileeveryone retreated into their classrooms, I wanted nothing more than to retreat into some deep, dark hole and forget everything.
