Saturday, June 10, 2017. Daily Brit Wit.
“I hear my brother’s booming laughter before I see him. And have to fight the urge to bang my head against the next available hard surface (which would be a brick wall, perfect) because I know he is making mischief. My feet drag slightly as I continue down the hallway toward open double doors of the school.
As soon as I step outside, I see my brother leaning against the trunk of a maple tree with his usual band of followers. I don’t want to deal with his simpering posse, so keep to the crowd and hope I find our father before him. There are perks to being a couple inches shorter than average: like being able to skirt around your brother and praying he won’t call out “to form a queue ladies, there’s plenty of Brian to go around” again.
‘Honestly,’ I grumble and spot Dad’s truck. He sees me and I wave. He points to a figure behind me and I shake my head desperately. ‘Noooo!’ I whine for good measure. He grins, I think, based on his typical reactions to such dramatizations.
I ignore the prompt to call my brother and trudge toward the truck. I open the passenger seat door, throw my bag on the floor, and hanging off the door decide to yell across the quad. ‘Brian, say farewell to your harem because your chariot awaits!’
Dad chuckles and I smirk over at him, slamming the door shut.”