Excerpts from the life of Me
English had finally finished. I wobbled out of the doors, my enormous book bag pulling all 5'3'' of me to the right. Stumbling down the stairs, I glanced up and saw the minivan parked directly in front of me. I noticed that my mom sat in the driver's seat, and, with a slight huff, I noticed my little brother claimed shotgun. The automatic door opened and I watched my reflection slide away, opening to the gray interior of the vehicle.
My little brother chuckled as I catapulted the bag off my shoulder and onto the nearest seat. I maneuvered my way to the backseat on the right-the seat I only use when both parents are in the car, or when my little brother decides to forget his place (which, by the way, is supposed to be the backseat on the left. In the back. On the left. Staring out the window with the dachshund snot coating the glass. That's his place).
Kyle, my little brother, seems to think that just because he's now 6 freaking feet tall, he suddenly gets new "rights" and "privileges" that I do not recall signing off on. Rights like making fun of my tastes just because they're more sophisticated than his. (If it weren't for me, he would not know the amazingness of shows like 'Sherlock' and 'Doctor Who'. He'd just sit there in his recliner watching 'Lost'...and he'd enjoy it! *shudder* Really, I've done that boy a favor and all he does is laugh.) Privileges like taking my self-designated spot in the car.
I cast a glare in his direction, when my gaze caught on the incredible sight of a large Chick-Fil-A Styrofoam cup, inevitably filled with sweet tea. I grinned. "Is it my birthday?" I said, in the nerdy whine of Iron Man 2's villain. Mom laughed and handed the drink to me, and my brother tossed back a chocolate-chip cookie.
Fine. I suppose he could sit in my spot just this once.
I tore into the cookie, detailing the events of English between bites. Mom said her usual questions, and I said my usual answers ("Good. Good. Yeah. Interesting. Romeo's a moron. Yeah, it was fine. I think I prefer using gerunds to participial phrases. They're easier to spot because they look like verbs but they act as nouns, whereas participial phrases look like verbs but act like adjectives. I don't think they tend to add as much overall. And then we get to infinitives..." The questions seem to stop after about this point.)
The conversation moved on to the babysitting job I had had the night previous. I had babysat my cousins, and after my aunt returned, we had a nice, long conversation completely bashing 'The Desolation of Smaug' together. I love my aunt.
Anyway, I had begun to rant again, but my brother interrupted me. "You know," He said, taking a swig of his drink. "If the third one happens to be any good, Kara and Kristin are going to have to see the second one."
I snorted. "No, they won't have to." I didn't voice this opinion, but I am a firm believer in the 'book first' idea. My sisters could just read the book.
"Yeah, they kinda will," My brother replied evenly, taking another sip.
I glared at the back of his curly head. He really shouldn't be in that seat... "Then we can just fast forward most of the movie, play it at the dragon part, and then fast-forward the utterly ridiculous action that follows."
Kyle shifted around to face me. He grinned. He knew I was irritated. "Why don't you let them see the movie and then form their own opinions about it?"
I glared until my eyes were nearly slits. Kyle simply smiled cheekily. He knew he had me trapped. If I continued to argue, he would accuse me of being a democrat. Not exactly a logical deduction given the argument, but I didn't want to open that tomb of doom. If I quit talking, I admitted defeat though. I don't get defeated, and in the moments I do, I don't admit it.
However, there was no chance I could lose here. I knew Kara and Kristin had the good sense not to like the Desolation of Smaug... a good sense that, I knew, had been influenced by my constant ranting.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," I replied, sighing for affect. "You'll have to find some chance to rent it and then watch it without me around. Although I might have tainted their opinions a bit." I attempted a sheepish smile, but I'm sure it looked more like a smirk. Acting has never been my strong suit.
Kyle laughed ruefully. "Tainted? Are you serious?" Kyle held out both hands, his fingers curled so they looked vaguely like cups. "Imagine Kara and Kristin's opinions are two little glasses of pure, crystal water." Placing the glasses on an invisible table, he moved his arms, pantomiming carrying something huge and heavy on his shoulder. He pretended to pound the imaginary glasses with the enormous invisible object. "You have taken five gallons of black paint and dumped it over the glasses."
I stared at him for a long moment. He continued his demonstration.
It was true. The whole thing was true.
I burst into laughter, nearly coughing up the sweet tea I had just swallowed. I laughed and laughed, vaguely aware of Mom laughing too.
Kyle knows me way too well.