Just Believe
Prologue: Good Girl
Telling the truth has always been a certain knack of mine. I’ve never seen the point in lying, even when the telling the truth hurts.
My older brothers always hated it when I was younger. So much so that it finally got to the point where they’d never say or do anything around me in fear that I would run off to mom and dad. It was great for my relationship with my parents; not so much for the ones with my brothers.
But, as we grew older, they got over it. They hated it, but still, they didn’t exactly resent me.
There’s tons of stories I could tell you of all the things my brothers did and got into.
Like when Daniel was eight, he was dead set on climbing one of the larger trees in our backyard. Now, this tree was never the sturdiest of trees, and although large in size, the branches were as thin as my wrists.
I had warned him several times not to climb it. That something bad was going to happen. I had this feeling that kept nagging at me and wouldn’t go away.
Of course, Dan, the ever stubborn boy that he is, did not listen to me and climbed it anyways.
I ran inside and told on him. Our mother was less than thrilled about it and stomped outside, with me in tow.
By then he had made it to the top, of course. And all would have been well if he hadn’t started to hoot and holler up there and throw himself a one-man party. The branch snapped and there he came tumbling down, breaking almost all the flimsy branches on his way.
He broke his left leg, his right arm, and suffered a minor concussion. Not to mention he had the wind knocked out of him. Mother had been frantic and wouldn’t stop crying all the way to the hospital.
I told her that I warned Dan not to do it. That he didn’t listen. By the time the doctor said that Dan would be fine, Mom was in an uproar. She really let him have it.
Dan refused to talk to me for weeks.
Or when my other brother, Parker, was ten. He had become very interested in his looks and girls. Mother was not happy when I told her that I caught Parker looking up girls skirts at school. And Dad certainly wasn’t happy to learn that it was Parker who used all his cologne. Or when Parker used all the hair gel. Or…well, you get the picture. Parker certainly was and still is the trouble maker of the family.
And my twin, Harvey (though he likes to claim that we aren’t since we were born twenty minutes apart, he at 11:50 and I at 12:10, thus born on separate days) has had his troublemaker moments.
Harvey is much like I am, he tends to know when things shouldn’t be done and has knack for telling the truth. But he’s a boy, and as they say, boys will be boys. He generally does things to annoy Parker. Like stealing his toys when they were younger, or grabbing a pile of Parker’s nice clothes and throwing them outside in the mud while it’s raining. Or locking Parker in their bedroom closet.
I, of course, always told on him. It’s probably the reason why we aren’t that close.
Sadly, I have to admit even Henry - the eldest - has done his fair share of bad things. Henry and I have always been close with him being the oldest and I being the youngest. Generally he’s the mature one who’d rather not fight or get caught up in what our brothers are doing. But I’ve caught - and told on - him a few times.
Like when he was fourteen and snuck out of the house to see his girlfriend. Or when he was sixteen and went to a party instead of his friends house and got drunk.
I’m happy to say that I’ve learned from my brothers mistakes. I don’t go drinking at parties. I don’t lie about where I’m going, or mess with my brothers things, or climb tall trees. I don’t use my mothers things without asking and I don’t do anything inappropriate.
There’s so many things that my brothers have done. So many stories I could tell that would make you laugh or shake your head in disappointment.
But this isn’t a story about my older brothers. This is my story and how my whole reputation was ruined all because of one boy.
And how no one, not even my brothers, believed me.
My older brothers always hated it when I was younger. So much so that it finally got to the point where they’d never say or do anything around me in fear that I would run off to mom and dad. It was great for my relationship with my parents; not so much for the ones with my brothers.
But, as we grew older, they got over it. They hated it, but still, they didn’t exactly resent me.
There’s tons of stories I could tell you of all the things my brothers did and got into.
Like when Daniel was eight, he was dead set on climbing one of the larger trees in our backyard. Now, this tree was never the sturdiest of trees, and although large in size, the branches were as thin as my wrists.
I had warned him several times not to climb it. That something bad was going to happen. I had this feeling that kept nagging at me and wouldn’t go away.
Of course, Dan, the ever stubborn boy that he is, did not listen to me and climbed it anyways.
I ran inside and told on him. Our mother was less than thrilled about it and stomped outside, with me in tow.
By then he had made it to the top, of course. And all would have been well if he hadn’t started to hoot and holler up there and throw himself a one-man party. The branch snapped and there he came tumbling down, breaking almost all the flimsy branches on his way.
He broke his left leg, his right arm, and suffered a minor concussion. Not to mention he had the wind knocked out of him. Mother had been frantic and wouldn’t stop crying all the way to the hospital.
I told her that I warned Dan not to do it. That he didn’t listen. By the time the doctor said that Dan would be fine, Mom was in an uproar. She really let him have it.
Dan refused to talk to me for weeks.
Or when my other brother, Parker, was ten. He had become very interested in his looks and girls. Mother was not happy when I told her that I caught Parker looking up girls skirts at school. And Dad certainly wasn’t happy to learn that it was Parker who used all his cologne. Or when Parker used all the hair gel. Or…well, you get the picture. Parker certainly was and still is the trouble maker of the family.
And my twin, Harvey (though he likes to claim that we aren’t since we were born twenty minutes apart, he at 11:50 and I at 12:10, thus born on separate days) has had his troublemaker moments.
Harvey is much like I am, he tends to know when things shouldn’t be done and has knack for telling the truth. But he’s a boy, and as they say, boys will be boys. He generally does things to annoy Parker. Like stealing his toys when they were younger, or grabbing a pile of Parker’s nice clothes and throwing them outside in the mud while it’s raining. Or locking Parker in their bedroom closet.
I, of course, always told on him. It’s probably the reason why we aren’t that close.
Sadly, I have to admit even Henry - the eldest - has done his fair share of bad things. Henry and I have always been close with him being the oldest and I being the youngest. Generally he’s the mature one who’d rather not fight or get caught up in what our brothers are doing. But I’ve caught - and told on - him a few times.
Like when he was fourteen and snuck out of the house to see his girlfriend. Or when he was sixteen and went to a party instead of his friends house and got drunk.
I’m happy to say that I’ve learned from my brothers mistakes. I don’t go drinking at parties. I don’t lie about where I’m going, or mess with my brothers things, or climb tall trees. I don’t use my mothers things without asking and I don’t do anything inappropriate.
There’s so many things that my brothers have done. So many stories I could tell that would make you laugh or shake your head in disappointment.
But this isn’t a story about my older brothers. This is my story and how my whole reputation was ruined all because of one boy.
And how no one, not even my brothers, believed me.