Can You Handle Me?

Why Is It Me?

Why is it me? Why does it have to be me that serves a punish so much so that my mother tells me the one thing I don't want to hear.

I've been an only child and now I'm sat with my mother and my father. My mother has her hands clasped together in nervousness. My father is drinking coffee like he doesn't want to get involved. Thing is, neither do I.

"So, Riley... Me and your father have been talking and we have come to an arrangement that we might be getting you a brother." my mother slowly speaks with uncertainty.

My face falls.

"You're joking. Are you pregnant? Oh good Lord, tell me you're not!" I exclaim in anxiety.

"No, no! We're... adopting a brother. Should be a similar age to you, hopefully." my mother corrects.

"Susie, don't alarm her with that. Listen, Ri, your brother will be 16, just like you. There's no need to panic." my father assured me.

I take a deep breath and compose myself. I've learned about being 16. You can do a lot of fun stuff for the UK, really. You've got your GCSEs, you're at the minimum age for sex, and you're just about through secondary school!

"Well, good... When does he arrive?" I ask.

"Around the 21st. So tomorrow." my father says before going back to drinking his coffee.

I nod, "Is that all?"

"That should be, you can go upstairs and rest." my mother says.

And that I did.