“Am I here?” Drew asks, eyes wide as he flails a dramatic hand over himself.
Mom pinches his cheek. “Hi, sweetie. How was practice?”
“No, Drew! It’s my turn.” I step between them, waving my hands above my head. “I’m almost eleven and a half, Mo?—”
I’m not able to finish my sentence because my brother, the pest that he is, grabs my wrists and crosses them in front of my chest. He locks them there by wrapping his monster forearm around me. He laughs and I stomp on his foot, which only makes him laugh harder. “Nice try, Gretch.” He uses his fist to give me a noogie and I squirm to break free. Finally releasing me, he says, “What’s got you all worked up?”
I fix my hair and crane my neck to look up at him. “Mom and Dad won’t let me seePitch Perfecteven though everybody else in my grade has already seen it.”
“Gretch, you gotta let it go. The answer is no,” Dad’s voice booms into the kitchen from his office down the hall. I groan. Drew laughs again and I hurl a mini-muffin at his face which, of course, he catches in his mouth.
He. Is. So. Annoying.
From the front of the house, a door swings open and shut. “Seriously, you guys, what’s the big deal? It’s just a movie!”
“What movie?” Connor says from the kitchen doorway.
A smile spreads across Mom’s face. “Connor! Drew didn’t tell me you were coming. You staying for dinner? We’re having chili.”
“If you’ll have me,” he says right before Drew tosses a mini-muffin his way and he catches it, too, arms thrown up in victory. Without missing a beat, he asks again, “What movie?”
“Pitch Perfect,” Mom, Drew and me all say in unison.
“Oh, dude, I love that movie.”
I glare at him.
Drew leans into Connor’s ear. “Not helping, Vining.”
Connor chuckles, coughing into his fist. “Sorry, Fish,” he says with a wink. How dare he wink at me at a time like this.
I bounce my attention from Connor to Mom to Drew, taking in their tickled faces. I scoff and storm out of the room.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re seated at the dinner table where my parents are blathering on about their weekend plans.
“Gretch, honey,” Mom says, “remember Drew is in charge. Your dad and I will only be gone one night.”
Drew sports a high and mighty smirk that makes me want to kick him in the shins. “Got it,” I reply unenthusiastically.
“What show are you guys going to see?” Connor asks, ever the polite house guest.
Mom lights up. “We have tickets toLes Mis.” Turning back to my brother, she steels her expression. “I know it’s a bye week for you guys, but Drew, I need you to be here with your sister. No team parties or girls are allowed in this house.”
Drew rolls his eyes.
“Son, you better get your attitude in check,” Dad commands.
“Andrew Fisher, I mean it,” Mom warns. “You are responsible for your eleven-year-old baby sister. Don’t forget that.”
I roll my eyes internally because I don’t want Dad to lecture me, too.
I’mnota baby.
First,Drew banished me to my room so he and his friends can have the downstairs to themselves.
Then, I was sworn to secrecy, but I only agreed to keep quiet in exchange for two things. One, I absolutely will not help him clean up any messes. Two, he has to take me to seePitch Perfecttomorrow afternoon before our parents get back.
A win-win all around if you ask me.
