Almost Fully Aware

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Marvel

"Detention?" Mom shouts at Cato. "On your first day?"

"Cato, how on Earth is that possible?" Brutus shouts at him.

"Ask Grandpa," Cato replies. "He's the one that insisted that I should have detention for a week."

"It's always someone's fault, isn't it?" Mom asks. "You are so selfish." She stares at my younger brother. "Nothing's your fault, is it?"

"Mom, my shirt got- ." He says.

She throws her hand up, cutting him off. "If this is an excuse, I don't want to hear it, Mister."

Brutus plops down beside Cato. "As punishment, you're grounded for another week."

"Dad, - ." Cato starts.

"No, we've made up our minds, Son, we think this is best for you." Brutus says.

"Ha-ha!" I laugh. "Cato got in trouble!" I sing. "Cato got in trouble!"

"Shut up, Marvel." Mom says.

Cato turns towards me and his face fumes red with anger. "Aw," I coo. "Is the baby getting fussy?" I laugh.

"Shut up!" Cato screams at the top of his lungs.

"Make me, You big baby!" I yell at him, sticking my tongue out at him afterwards.

"Oh, so mature!" He shouts.

"Oh, so mature." I mock with a fake, baby voice.

"Boys," Mom says. "Calm down and get ready for dinner." She pulls on her coat.

"Oh," I say, grabbing my own coat. "We're going out?"

"In a way," Brutus says. "We are going to have dinner at someone else's house." He smiles.

"The crazy lady that keeps asking me out?" Cato asks. "Please tell me it's not her house."

Mom looks at him, scowling. I can tell she's trying not to laugh. "Cato, she doesn't ask you out." She says.

"It must be a coincidence that she always wears nice clothes and asks me if I want to go to restaurants and eat with her . . . alone." He flicks his eyebrows up when he says 'alone'.

"Okay, maybe she does." Mom says. "No, we aren't going over there, we are going to the Belcourts' house."

"Who the Hell are the Belcourts?" Cato asks. Mom scowls at him. "Heck." He corrects himself.

"They are some nice people on the edge of town." She explains. "Mrs. Belcourt invited us over for dinner tonight."

"Who on Earth would have us over for dinner?" I say, trying not to laugh. "For all we know, these people may be all fancy." I put my pinky up in a "proper" sort of way. "And we're over here like the Beverly Hillbillies."

"So?" Brutus shrugs his shoulders. "If they are fancy, we will be nice" -he looks over at Cato- "and respectful." He looks at me, making us both nod. "Which means: no screaming, no cursing, no fighting, no calling each other names, and, most of all, act like you have some common sense."

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