The Optimist

twenty three

This book is coming to an end soon! All love! -Mo

Nadia

. . .

Nathan gave me nothing but glares and menacing chuckles for the next few days. I'm still desperate to get the answer I deserve, but Nathan seems to make it more difficult each time it ask.

"Nate.." I'd cooed with a fake smile once. He smiled back, holding on around his ear. "Yesss?" He responded, just a cheery. "So, like, that answer. You still owe me-"

He'd shut the door in my face and laughed on the other side of the door before I could finish. Rude.

Another time, I'd tried to imply it slyly to where he'd unknowingly answer, but he caught on to my antics before he realized he was almost going to answer. "Nathan, who are you going to prom with?" I asked him.

He shrugged.

"You?"

I shook my head and smiled, saying, "I wished I'd known about Jacob before I got to be his date.." I'd said sarcastically. He widened his eyes and nodded. "Oh yeah, see he has this secr-" he stopped in mid sentence and smirked.

"Oh, wait! I see what you're doing." He grinned, catching himself. I mentally kicked myself for having him find out.

Today is my last attempt at getting an answer and after thinking it thoroughly, the ins and outs and all the problems that my come along, I'm ready to perform it.

"Nathan won't tell me what Jacob has, Mom! Since you let me hang around him, Nathan knows he could possibly have a disease and I'll never know!" I whined to Mom.

Yep, that's my plan. The one and only: snitching.

Mom half smiled as she tapped her chin. "Hmm..." She turned to Dad who was silently reading the paper and isn't paying attention. He coughs maliciously before retrieving himself back to normal.

"Nathan!" Mom calls, and I grow nervous.

Just like when we were five, and I was happy and jolly but very snitchy, I'd stand next to Mom, arms crossed and wait on Nathan to get his scolding. Over the years, I went from laughing at Mom's side, to shaking behind her back as I peeked at an angry Nathan. He went from being ready to being punished to annoyed and tired of my telling.

And just like that, I'd officially stopped snitching and let Nathan do whatever. You could say I was scared of my brother, but he'd always get revenge less than weeks later. He'd tell on me, most of the time lying, but I'd get in trouble. Them we'd both be angry at each other for like an hour, then love each other again.

Our adolescent years were a constant rotation of just that: snitch, hate, snitch back, hate more, love again and all over.

But now, it's different. This is the first time I've tattled on Nathan sixth the seventh grade, and I was everything but happy. I know I'll finally get my answer, but I'm to expect something in return from Nathan.

Revenge.

I hear the sound of him pedaling down the stairs and the swishy sound of his feet against the polished wooden floors of our living room before he finally walked in slowly, smirking. His sweat pants made him look boyish and I want to smile at that, but I don't.

He gaze shifts from me to Mom, who wears a serious expression. When his eyes lock with mine again, they narrow and he smirks. "Yes, Mom?" He taunts.

His glare never leaves mine as Mom inches her index finger toward him. He eases over, almost stepping on my feet he's so close! "Nadia-"

"Wants to know about Jacob?" He interrupts. "Yep, I figured. Listen Nadia, all you need to know," he smirks, "is right there. Everything about him is all there. Look for it. Bye" his daring voice fades and soon his body does, too.