
Word Count: 551 | Finished: October 1st
After a long, long day at school, I almost tripped over the front step of my house. I was exhausted, and really tired of everyone at school. It was just another “ordinary day” at school. I audibly groaned. Everyone just kept talking, and talking, and talking about that... incident that happened last week. I had sat through many classes that day, as well as some tests. It was very stressful, made even worse by everybody at school and now? I had to face my brother. My pesky, annoying brother. He was always stealing my stuff, provoking me... this list could go on for days. “Why are you taking so long?” He appeared out of nowhere, stood in front of me and smirked, like the very devil he was. “Did you grow a tail?” I glared at him. “My, I haven’t seen you for a few hours and you grew a tail?”
“Shut up! Don’t you have anything better to do? And what do tails have to do with anything?!”
“No.” There his evil smirk went again. “Annoying you is the best thing I can do.”
I stomped off to the kitchen. “I don’t have time for his stupid nonsense.” I muttered under my breath. All I wanted was something from my hidden food cache in the fridge. Specifically, my Poptart. I had saved that treat for a really bad day. And if today wasn’t bad, I didn’t know what was. Well, it wasn’t that hidden, but who cared? I turned around as I heard the footsteps of my brother.
“Oh, I’m surprised to find you in here,” he remarked sarcastically. “My wittle baby sister, always looking for food.”
“Stop following me!” I yell in his face. No matter how much he tried to annoy me right now, all I needed to do was to find that Poptart. I moved my food out of the way, and tried in vain to find my Poptart which I had saved for so long. It wasn’t there! I started panicking. “But... but it was there yesterday!” Suddenly, I heard my brother trying to stifle his laughter. I turned around, rage rushing through my veins and with fire in my eyes, I turned around once again to face the devil himself. “Did you steal my Poptart?” I asked nicely, trying not to let my anger show.
“No, of course not. Why would I do that?” he asked back, barely able to contain his laughter. That’s it, I thought. I’m done being nice to him and being the subject of his torments. And I knew he was the type of person that would laugh when they were lying so his laughter further confirmed my suspicions.
“You stole my Poptart?! I’M DONE LETTING YOU STEAL MY STUFF. YOU OWE ME A POPTART AND AN APOLOGY!” I screamed, my fists clenched, knuckles whitened. “You do NOT want to cross me today.”
He looked surprised, and then meekly mumbled a quick “Sorry.”. And then he pulled out a Poptart from a nearby cabinet. “Here,” he blurted. “I didn’t eat it. You can have it back. I’m sorry, okay?”
I nodded in response, and he left the kitchen, presumably going back to his room, but he rarely would apologise to me. Why had he been so nice all of a sudden?
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