The Bookworm | ✔️

Chapter Two - No Superheros Please

"Now," he began, thumbing through the clothes he could actually reach on the hangers. Let's just say the bar in my closet was pretty tall, even for me. Now, try to imagine my short little brother trying to reach those clothes. It's clear whoever customized my room customized it for Goliath. "What shall we be wearing today?" Eddie rhetorically asked at the top of his voice. I squinted my eyes and pursed my lips, watching him.

Why is that dork in here again? I thought to myself, rubbing a hand over my eyes. "Nothing you pick out, squirt."

He whirled around, horror etched onto his small features in shock. He reformed his look into a glare, crossing his arms. "Hey! I can pick out something tasteful! I pick out my own clothes for school everyday," he announced proudly.

I tried not to mention how his clothes were wrinkled, there was a grape stain on the shirt he wore most often, and he was, in fact, seven. The other boys in his grade didn't care and the girls still thought he had cooties.

It's a much different scenario.

"Sweetie, I don't think that showing up as the school girl version of Iron Man classifies as tasteful."

I held back a laugh as I saw his face fall. I knew that's what the little dork had in mind. His eyes brightened up and he opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. "I'm not going to be your rendition of the Hulk, either."

He pouted, crossed his arms before turning his nose up in the air and stomping out, mumbling something about sticking to video games.

"You're such a little diva ..." I mumbled loud enough for him to hear, digging my head back into my pillow with a smile. With a content sigh, my eyes fluttered shut again, falling back into a semi-sleep. I drifted off, halfway in dreamland with visions of running around dressed like a pirate.

And then ...

Squeak squeak.

My nose scrunched and wrinkled up, annoyed that, once again, my dreams were being pushed aside. Oh, good day in the morning, what is that noise?

Squeak Squeak.

Oh ... it's the hamster wheel.

I totally knew that.

Breaking my eyelids apart, I smiled sleepily at my pet, his beady little eyes gazing back at me. "Good morning, Rhino," I cooed at the small creature, running furiously in it's wheel. I always wondered why he ran like a maniac. Did he feel the impending doom of something being right behind him and felt the need to run, even if it was in place? Was he visioning a girl hamster at the other end of the imaginary road he was on? Can hamsters even imagine things? And even if they could, it'd probably only be about running and carrots ... right?

Speaking of which, I needed to grab a couple from downstairs. Sneaking out of my room so as to not attract attention, I put my non-existent ninja skills to use, tip-toeing down the stairs. No one else had taken refuge in the kitchen yet. Though, I was temporarily distracted from my mission when the scent of coffee wafted by my nose. Oh, how I love the timer on the coffee maker. Almost immediately, my mouth began watering.

Smacking myself across the face, I told myself to focus on Rhino. Rhino was hungry; he needed sustenance.

Forcing myself to turn away from the coffee maker, I yanked out the last two carrots from the Zip-Loc bag, tossing it in the trash and started cutting the carrots into strips.

During the minute it took to cut those up, I learned several valuable lessons. Lesson One: Never cut carrot sticks when you've been awake for only five minutes. Lesson Two: I get easily distracted. Lesson Three: Watch where you cut.