To Walk in His Shoes

July 17th.

It’s warm again. The sun has started to dwindle away beyond the horizon. It’s a Tuesday night, and I’m stuck at home with Carter. I don’t mind him. He’s my brother, after all, and we’ve grown accustomed to each other. Nevertheless, it’s definitely sad to be the only teenager home with her dorky older brother. No wonder I’m not the highest on the school food chain.

I guess one night at home isn’t bad. But I’ve only gone out of the house once the entire summer, and that was to pick up some groceries my mom needed. Needless to say, I like to keep to myself. Besides, I’m so busy dancing that I don’t have time for friends or relationships.

I used to have a best friend about a year ago. She goes by Emma. I met her when we were ten and thought she was the most remarkable person ever. We were friends for five years until Emma’s dad was offered a job in California. They moved away a couple months later. We still talk sometimes, but it’s not as often as it used to be.

She’s been trying to visit this summer, even though a plane ticket is expensive. Emma is deliberate though, and she told me that she only has $50 left to earn before she can travel. If I know her as well as I think I do, it should only take her about two weeks.

I’m more than excited for her to visit. Maybe then I’ll actually get out of the house.

~~*~~

I turn off my radio and close the garage door. Two days ago, Keith told me to not dance in public, which is why I’ve been doing it as much as I possibly can. I like annoying him. It’s what reminds me that I’m human. And sometimes I like being reckless and frustrating to others.

I switch the lights off and walk into the house, only to see Keith sitting on one of the stools in the kitchen. He looks up at me and smirks widely, swallowing the last of the dinner that I had worked on all night. I scowl at him, pulling the rubber band out of my hair.

“What are you doing here, Keith?” I mutter darkly, slipping off my ballet shoes and throwing them into the closet. Keith spins around in his chair and glances at me.

“I’ve been at your house pretty much every night for the past month, Kitty-Kat. I thought you were smart enough to realize that I’m here for Carter,” he states smugly, wryly turning his lips upwards when I glare back at him.

“Then why are you in my kitchen? Shouldn’t you be in his room playing video games or something?” I ask, attempting to come out as blunt and rude. I could tell I succeeded by the grim look on his face.

“Well, I was planning on it. But when I saw the homemade lasagna baking in the oven, I couldn’t help but try it. By the way, it could use a little less cheese,” Keith says complacently.

“You ate all of it, you fat ass,” I utter under my breath, narrowing my eyes at him. We both know it’s not true. Keith is obsessed with working out. If he could marry his weights, he probably would. Nevertheless, my comment worked, and Keith stood up and glowered over me.

“Watch your mouth, kitty,” he whispers, acid swarming out from deep in his throat. He looks almost amused at my shocked demeanor.

With that, Keith sways past me and up the stairs, not even bothering to take his plate to the sink. Scowling at the monster present in my house, I grab the dinnerware and place it in the dishwasher.

Sighing, I find some left over macaroni and cheese and heat it up in the microwave. When it’s done, I grab a fork and haul my exhausted body up the stairs, only to stop outside of Carter’s door. I normally never eavesdrop. I’ve always been taught to give people their privacy. But when my name is mentioned in a conversation, I can’t just ignore it.

I think the curiosity inside of me would probably claw out my eyes.

“You did eat the food she slaved over, Keith,” Carter says, furiously clicking away at the remote control. They were probably playing some racing game. Or maybe it was that one with all the blood and gore. I always took video games as useless information that I didn’t need, although my brother practically begged me to play some Mario Kart game before Keith came along.

That’s the only reason I actually like having Keith around.

Still, I’d rather have him on the other side of the earth.

“Well, yeah, it was so damn good!” he exclaims, sounding lost in the moment. I grin then. For once, Keith actually complimented something that I did. And even though nothing he says matters to me, it heightens my pride in being able to tease him about his tribute later.

“I thought you told her it wasn’t good,” Carter replies.

“Only to piss her off. I have a reputation to uphold, you know,” he sneers. I roll my eyes. Seriously? Why would anyone try to irritate another intentionally?

And in the midst of the silence, my fork drops, spilling bits of cheesy noodles across the carpet. I cringe. I’m glad that we don’t have hard wood floors up here. But it’s still loud enough to make Carter pause his game and open the door.

Carter gives me a bemusing frown.

“Katrina, what are you doing?” He asks, shaking his head when he notices that the cheese stains the carpet.

“She’s eavesdropping on us, Carter. Didn’t you know? She’s kind of obsessed with me,” Keith states, smiling obnoxiously.

“Get over yourself, Keith,” I declare, walking to the bathroom to throw away the spoiled food. I hear laughter in the background, and decide to block it out.

Listening to Keith and Carter talk has already gotten me into enough trouble.

And I really don’t want anything else to do with Keith.