The Dream Land

You dumb boys

The bus agonizingly took its time slowing down at my stop. It's hasn't even stopped completly when I scramble out of my seat. My two brothers, John; in ninth grade and a football legend, and Danny; a seventh grader like me, though he's the smart-ass who knows everything. They also scream off the bus, following me and my bulky backpack. "You won't get in there first, Rubbie Tubbie!" John shouts, bringing up my sucky nickname. I turn my head, my bangs getting tangled on my face, "Shut up, Johnny Boy!" I see his face crease in annoyance. I give a small smirk, pull my backpack higher and sprint up the final hill to the two story house.

I can hear John advancing and Danny falling behind, his coughs are soon drowned out by John's foot steps. My backpack only holds my school books and my old phone. I stumble, only a few feet in front of John and pull out my phone.

I throw the backpack in John's face. John, shouts something, but I'm tripping up the steps to the front door. Rollie (Ron) opens the door with sleepy eyes, "Ruby?" "Hey, Rollie, where's Parker?" I slip past the six year old into the dirty shoe room. I almost choke on the smell, "I can see it!" Rollie snorts and walks away, scratching his ankle.

Parker emerges from behind the second door, "Mom isn't home yet...John!" I can't turn before I'm trampled. "JOHN!" I scream from under his body, he gives a chuckle which squishes my lungs even more, "Get off me you-" "Ah, are your going to cuss?" John sneers. "Just," I stutter, then gasp, my lungs aren't working! John pulls away.

I breath in so many breaths I can't count. Parker coughs and I look up. John is rummaging through my bag, Danny is using his inhaler, Rollie is wiping his nose on his shirt. Parker leaves, and then we all hear his favorite show playing. I punch John, "Jerk. I'm a girl ya' know, you should give me my space." "My girlfriend has bigger boobs then you," he scoffs. I glare at him and throw my white converse against the wall.

Not even ten minutes later, I'm in a black, loose NBA shirt, and gray sweats. My dirty blond hair is in a messy bun. My attic room is pounding to John's beat under me. The TV is barring one of Parker and Rollie's shows, they're twins, both six. I can hear Donny working on something.

I shove some old homework off my messy desk and pull out my computer. Two hours later I'm done with my essay, and yet everything is downstairs is still the same. I look around the browser, not really thinking about the games.

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