This Little Game We Like To Play

Angel Riviera is the boy’s name. Ironic really, since he’s been anything but an angel since his conception. It started with complications during his mother’s pregnancy, then while she was in labor. I don’t know what possessed that boys parents to name him Angel after that, besides the fact that I always thought of Angel as a girl’s name. Anyway, things only got progressively worse after he was born. He never stopped crying for long, he wouldn’t eat anything he was supposed to, drew on walls, bit other children, got into fist fights on the play ground, didn’t do his homework, got into fist fights in the school halls, talked back to his teachers, started to smoke, started to drink, cursed more than a sailor. That was from birth to middle school. He still does all of that still, even at the age of sixteen, and along with all of that he still manages to ruin my summer every year.

So maybe I’m a little more than pudgy. Sure, I’ve had braces since the seventh grade and never had the best skin. And okay, my eyebrows used to be bushy and gross until I discover eyebrow waxing but none of that was relevant when we were toddlers. That’s when we learned to talk, or in our case argue. I don’t know what I did in my past life but it must have been very bad because fate was so unkind to stick me with Angel since the day I was born.

Charlotte Jacobs and Liz Simons were best friends from third grade until the day they graduated from high school. From then on they went on to be roommates at college. One day Charlotte met Adam. Adam invited Charlotte to a party. Charlotte brought Liz along with her, that’s when Liz met Chris, Adam’s best friend. Then eventually the two couples decided to get married, after college that is. It was only natural for Charlotte and Liz to be each other’s maids of honor when they got married, and God Mother’s when they had kids. That’s exactly how I got stuck with the demon named Angel. Our parents are so close to each other it’s ridiculous.

Angel and I attended the same preschool. That really sucked. I got clay, glue, sand, and a live goldfish put in my hair. Angel was in my class when we started kindergarten and stayed in my class until third grade when his dad got a promotion and he had to move to a few states away. That was the happiest day of my life. Of course, nothing gold can stay. I also found out about two weeks later that both our families were splitting the cost on some beach house, the following summer started my most dreaded tradition. Spending all summer vacation in the same house as Angel Gabriel Riviera, the devil himself.

“Quinn Emilia Taylor, if you’re not downstairs in one minute we are leaving with out.” My mom bellowed from the bottom of the stairs.

“Good! That’s what I’m hoping for!” I yelled loud enough for my voice to travel through my walls, and down the stairs.

“You’re not staying home this summer, and that’s final! Get down here right now or you’ll be sorry.” my mother threatened. I really couldn’t afford to be sorry. I was planning to get a new camera, and refusing to go on vacation could ruin my chances of that. Instead I settled for flinging my bedroom door open too forcefully and dragging my tan massager bag filled with the essentials for a road trip with me.

After five and a half hours we finally pulled up in front of the house in our olive green mini van, oh how I despise the thing.

“Oh! Look at my Pebbles!”Charlotte exclaimed happily once we managed to get my two sisters inside without waking them up. Let me explain the Pebbles thing. Angel and I were born three months apart. Our mother’s destined us to be married since I was born. It really sucks.

I am Peebles. He’s Bamm-Bamm. Yeah, the Flintstones. How lame are our parents?