Paraplegic (COMPLETED)

Chapter 2

There is a wide age gap between the two of us; a ten year gap to be precise. He turned seven last month. The day my parents told me that mother was pregnant and that I would soon have a little sibling filled me with two kinds of emotions. One: joy because I could see how happy they were about it. And two: a little mischievous because I would finally have someone to boss around and do my laundry for me. My hopes were ultimately unfulfilled. I can't even get August to do his own laundry let alone mine.

Mother walks back to the pantry to retrieve a bottle of maple syrup. "Are you sure you don't want some pancakes, McKenzie?"

A crunch sounds as I take another bite of apple. "Mom, the Blue Jays' photo shoot is today! There is no way I'm showing up with a stomach full of dough." My words are slightly garbled from chewing. "Besides, carbs are a big no-no. I need to be able to fit into my cheer uniform."

August pulls two pancakes off the main plate and drags them onto his own plate, drowning them in maple syrup. He stabs a huge chunk with his fork, then stuffs his face full. About halfway through chewing, he looks up at me and opens his mouth full of food, making stupid noises. I quickly look away, revolted at his juvenile antics. "Ugh! You're so disgusting."

Mother sits down in the chair next to me, ripping open a packet of coffee sweetener. "McKenzie, August; don't fight, please."

"Look at him. He's so . . . so . . . weird! Can we trade him for a puppy? Pleeeeease?" My lips purse into an adorable pouty face.

"You know very well you aren't responsible enough to care for a dog," she says. "And besides, what would we do with your brother?"

I raise my shoulders in a thoughtless shrug. "I dunno. We can ship him to a cow farm or something."

August knocks his silverware against the table with excitement. "Yay! Yay! I wanna go to a cow farm. Cows give chocolate milk."

"Cows don't give chocolate milk, doofus! You need chocolate syrup to get chocolate milk."

"Well, my cows would give me chocolate milk because I would pet them, and play with them, and sing to them, and hug them . . ." He drones on for several more seconds. I quickly lose interest and tune him out.

I turn to father. "How's your case coming, daddy?"

He sprinkles his fried eggs with salt. "Not so good, I'm afraid." A quick sigh follows his words. "My client is being accused of robbing a gas station downtown. New evidence recently came to light that certainly supports such accusations."

"Oh, wow! That's terrible. Did he do it?"

"I don't believe so, which is why I'm doing everything I can to defend his case." He stabs the egg with his fork.

"What will happen to him if he's found guilty?"

"If my client is convicted, he will most likely be sentenced to prison for eight to ten years."

"Eight to ten years!" Mother frowns at my sudden outburst. August merely giggles. "I can't begin to imagine being held in the same tiny room for that long. I barely survive the twenty minute commute when I'm forced to take the school bus."

Father is a criminal defense attorney. I don't really know the in-depth specifics of his job; basically just what I see on TV, which is mostly a bunch of fluff and propaganda for entertainment's sake. Bad guy commits a crime. Police arrest him. Bad guy then calls his lawyer. A trial commences sometime thereafter. The lawyer pleads on his client's behalf, then the jury decides bad guy's fate. All I know is that he works long hours. He leaves for work around the same time that August and I leave for school and sometimes doesn't come home until late that evening. August sees him less than I do. He has to go to bed at ten o' clock sharp. I, being the mature, responsible adult that I am, do not have a bedtime.