Jagged Edges

"I don't see why you won't help me." L'von complains, flopping down on my bed and sighing. I turn in my desk chair and stare at him.

"Sorry if my ideal Saturday night doesn't consist of running lines with you." I roll my eyes at my brother.

"And what? Watching reruns of The Golden Girls with mom is better?" 

"Actually, yeah."

He sits up and gives me a serious look. "Please, Gian. I really want this part and I need help running lines." 

"I thought auditions were yesterday." I question.

"Well, yeah but I got a callback!" He practically squeals. "It's on Monday so please?"

I sigh and my shoulders slump. "I really want to but I have a lot if math homework to do."

L'von bites his lip in thought. "What if we run lines now and I'll help with your homework after dinner. That way we can get mom to extend our curfew and we can go out to the docks tomorrow." 

I roll the idea through my head and smile. L'von has always been all too eager to help me ever since we found out about my dyslexia. I'd be a dick not to help him. Besides running lines with my brother is always really fun and, odds are, once he gets the part (because, face it, he will get the part), there will me many more Saturday nights spent running lines.

With that in mind, I agree to his proposition and follow him to his room where he hands me a script. "A Midsummer Nights Dream? You've done this play twice already."

"I know." He smiles. "But this is just the audition piece. I need help refreshing my memory." 

I roll my eyes and sigh. L'von knows this play inside and out. He's such a perfectionist which is great since he's an actor and whatnot and he's not obnoxious about it which is great.

Well, mostly. Sometimes it gets annoying but when, in the history of the world, has one sibling never annoyed the other?

He starts with a random line and I answer him from memory from the other times I've helped him while flipping to the proper scene. We follow the stage directions to the tee even though it isn't necessary. It adds fun to the usually monotonous reading routine.

Really, before either of us realizes it, it's time for dinner and then evening chores. Before we have a chance to return to what we were doing, dad coaxes us into watching our beloved Cowboy's play against the Steelers for the chance to go to the superbowl.

I'm not a huge sports person but who am I to deny my dad a chance to bond with his son? The game goes well past lights out but dad let's it slide easily. However, we only have ten minutes to get settled after the television is turned off for the night but sleep isn't too hard to come by.



"I can't do this." I whine, pushing the textbook away from me and crossing my arms tightly against my chest.

L'von rolls his eyes and pulls the math book back. "Yes, you can. Now, cmon. If you divide this into this and then multiply the original by the remainder, what do you get?"

"Still 27."

"How are you possibly getting 27?" He exasperates. I grab the notebook and write down the equation before solving it and handing it to him.

His eyes scan it quickly and realization dawns on him before he smiles softly. "Bro, that's a six, not a nine."

I scrunch my eyebrows together and examine the problem, watching as the numbers and occasional letters writhe under my gaze before settling. Then I realize that, yes, it's a six, not a nine. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

My brother laughs and smiles. "Tons of things."

I glare at him and he quickly stops laughing, mumbling a 'sorry' before correcting my mistake and handing the notebook back to me. "I give up. I'm switching to a lower math."

Now it's his turn to glare. "Why? Because you're having a little bit of trouble? Everyone has trouble at some point in time. You are a Vercillian. You do not give up. It's in our blood."

"I was adopted." I point out. "We don't share the same blood."

"Do you want to? 'Cause if you give up I'll beat you so bad you'll need a blood transplant and I'm sure mom or dad would be more than willing." He threatens.

"But it's hard."

"Life is hard. Work through it."

"That was so cliche."

He shrugs. "So? You get the point."

"Yeah, but-"

"No 'but's. Finish your homework so we can go to the docks." He demands, making his way to the kitchen for his third study snack of the day. 

I smile at my brother and his unique version if comfort. I know he means well but he has a funny way of showing it.