I walked down to the end of the small school building, and arrived at my brother’s classroom. The classroom was green and white, and in the shape of a rectangle. It was snack time, so everybody in my brother’s class was eating some form of food. I looked through the crack of the door and smiled because I had seen my brother. Earlier that morning, my brother and I had got in some pointless disagreement about a pointless subject. When my brother and I fought, there would be yells and screams, bites and punches, and lots of time outs. I felt bad that we had gone to school mad at eachother.
I had decided to walk into the building filled with older kids that would probably laugh at me. It was worth it, to apologize to my brother. Step by step I walked toward my brother, not saying a peep. I was almost at his desk when the sixth grade teacher stopped me and asked, “Greta, what are you doing in here?” I looked down at my light pink sneakers and moved my eyes up slowly so I could see Emmett.
“I just wanted to say hi to Emmett.” I looked at my brother and smiles, but my brother still hadn’t realized that I was present in the room. Mr. Dockum patted my shoulder, and then told me that I should just talk to him during all-school-lunch.
I walked out of the door, and started walking back toward my classroom. Until lunch time I felt very badly, and couldn’t concentrate on any of the tasks assigned to me. I basically sat in the corner of the room pouting. Nobody really asked me what was wrong, because I didn’t exactly have any friends. At all. Well, that’s not true. There was a student in my class named Christopher. He was a nice boy. He had a speech problem, and we stuck together for a lot of things whether it be partnering for a project, or sitting together at lunch time. He was a very short boy. He had brown hair, and he always smelled of maple syrup. His eyes were light brown, and he had two hearing aids. I think part of the reason why I didn’t have many friends was because I had a bowl-cut hairstyle. And I was pretty fat, or at least that’s what my fellow students told me.
It was lunchtime, and it was time to try and talk to my brother. In our lunchroom, there were eight school lunch tables spaced out evenly throughout the gym. It was a big deal for me to try and talk to Emmett and his friends, because he sat with the rest of the sixth graders. I looked around, and tried to find Emmett’s golden blonde hair. I picked him out of the crowd. He was sitting next to two boys wearing winter coats, and eating pizza.
The walk across the lunchroom was frightening. Actually, probably one of the scariest moments of my life. Everyone usually sat in one spot at lunch time, and to have everyones’ eyes see me as I made my way over to the older kids table was a weird experience.
“Hi, Emmett.” I tapped him on the shoulder, and smiled, waiting for him to turn around and greet me. He slowly turned his head, and looked at me with the most sour expression.
“What do you want.” This wasn’t even a question, it was an expression used to make me scared and a signal that I should walk away. I looked down at my shoes, once again, and searched for words.
“I’m sorry for this morning.” I looked at him while wearing my best sad face. He nodded, which was actually a big deal for Emmett.
“It’s fine, go back to your table.” He didn’t take any time to say these words, he just spat them out and turned back to his friends. That was okay, though. I knew my brother, and I knew that when we would get home we would be friends again. Well, at least until the next fight.
For the last two hours of my school day, I went about my business very happily. I painted magnificent paintings, I practiced multiplication, and I smiled.
At 3:00 pm, it was time to go catch my school bus and go home. I was in a nice enough mood that I felt as if nothing would bother me for the rest of the day. I walked onto the big yellow bus, and picked a seat in one of the rows in the middle. Nobody sat with me. In the back of the bus sat the sixth graders, which included my brother. I didn’t look back or try to talk to him because I didn’t want to embarrass him any more than I already had that day.
We were almost halfway home, when I felt something hit my head. It was an empty HOOD milk carton. I looked around to see who did it, and it was a group of laughing fifth graders sitting right behind me. I didn’t say anything, but my feelings were hurt very badly.
Why did I deserve this? What made these particular kids so bored with their lives that they thought it would be entertaining to hit ME with a milk carton? I was so incredibly embarrassed.
“Hahahaha, look at her haircut.” I felt beaten, bullied, and upset. The kids behind me were whispering, and I knew it was about me. I started to cry, when my brother stood up in the back of the bus and yelled loudly.
“What do you think you’re doing?” The fifth graders looked back at Emmett, looking very confused. “That’s my sister. You better not freaking talk to her that way.” The fifth graders sunk lower in their seats and apologized to me AND my brother for being disrespectful. I was so frazzled. My hands shook, my head stayed high, and I was mute for the rest of the bus ride… as was my brother.
When the bus came to a stop, it was time for us to get off. We both walked off the bus, and I smiled at my brother when the bus was leaving. I tried to give him a hug, and he yelled, “Get off me!” I laughed, because that was my brother for ya. We didn’t really talk about the incident on the bus for the rest of the day.
The next day I woke up with a smile on my face. I got ready for school as I usually would, and rode the bus just as before. Today was different. I felt stronger, I felt important, and I felt confident. Walking on the bus, I had decided to sit with a girl from my class. Conversation struck, and we actually got to talking. My first question to my newly founded friend was, “Do you have any siblings?”