Outgoing Stories

Sister (Part 1)

Daniel was always a cry baby.

Running to our parents with every little thing, like, 'Daddy, Margaret took my toy!', 'Mommy, she pinched me!' Always shifting blame to me for everything that went wrong. I'm no saint, true, but even when he screwed up, it was always my fault. 'Margaret, he's your little brother! You were supposed to watch after him!' And all the while he'd stand there, innocence personified, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Even now that he's fifteen he's still a pampered little brat who thinks he's all that.

Well, I got him this time. He's going to pay for everything.

I log into the chat under the nickname Andrew123, the one I've opened two weeks ago. I'm using a program to hide my IP so that Daniel couldn't track where I'm writing from. A little carefulness doesn't hurt, although I don't think he would know how to check it in the first place. He's not nearly as good with computers as I am. That's why I was able to hack into his computer and see which sites he visited and learn his big secret.

A little window with his avatar pops up immediately. He must have been waiting for me. It was so easy to make him fall for a non-existing person.

"Hi, Andrew," his message reads. "What's up?"

"All cool man," I type back.

"You're late today."

"Lots of homework."

He replies with an array of smileys that're supposed to convey sympathy, then adds, "I got that Taylor Swift live record I told you about."

I reply with my own array of smileys to express excitement.

"Was it good?" I type.

"It was AWESOME!!!" he types and then continues to ramble on about the record.

I roll my eyes. Knowing his tastes, it was so easy to convince him that I—Andrew—just happen to like all the stuff that he likes. He now thinks he's found a soulmate online, with whom he can discuss his favorite books, movies, and, well, his fear of coming out to his parents who will likely freak out about it.

I sure hope they will.

"Sounds awesome," I type. "I'll see where I can buy this record."

"Cool." He pauses. "Want to borrow mine? I have it on a disk-on-key."

I look at the message, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. He could just send me the record, or I could buy the songs online. Yet he wants to meet in person. It's probably a big deal to him, meeting another gay kid who has tastes and hobbies so like his own. What could go wrong? He's been talking to this Andrew online for two weeks. Hell, the idiot even sent me his real picture yesterday when I asked for it, despite all the online safety talks Dad has had with us.

Daniel is dumb. Andrew123 could be a pedophile, or some other criminal, yet he just goes ahead and sends him his real picture. Shirtless. I wonder if asked for a full nude, would he agree? I could then print and plaster it all over the school. Although just from our chats, I already have enough material to make his life living hell.

"Andrew?" he types. "Are you there?"

"Yep."

"Don't you want to meet? We could hang out and talk."

I swallow. Sure, I intended to meet, to see his face when he learns the truth, but this is too fast. I haven't thought it through yet.

"We could meet in the park, at six," he types. "Is that okay?"

"Will your parents let you go?" I type, even though I know they won't be home until eight.

"Sure," he types. "They're coming late today." I roll my eyes—the idiot is basically spilling information about his family to a stranger. "It's only me at home and my bitch sister."

My eyebrows go up and stay there.

"Huh?" I type. "You have a sister?"

"Yeah," he types. "Margaret. Two year older. A total jock and an asshole."

I blink at the screen. Oh. My. God. He's so going to pay for this. Tomorrow morning, the printouts of our chats are so going to hang all over the school. To hell with the consequences.

"Is she pretty, at least?" I type.

"What? No! As ugly as they get. Fat, too."

I glance down at myself. Fat? Muscular, perhaps. Big breasts, maybe, but what does he understand in female beauty? He's gay, anyway.

My eyes sting. Damn, I didn't expect this. I mean, we're not best friends, but this?

I look up at the screen to find that he's still typing.

"And she has this squeaky voice, you know. I just can't. And she gets so pissed when our parents blame her for the shit I do." Well, at least he admits to that. "But, you know." He pauses. "She's my sis. I love her anyway."

I stare at the last words, struggling to attach them to everything that came before.

"So," he types. "Meeting at six?"

I take a long shaky breath, trying to gather my thoughts.

"Sure," I type slowly. "See you soon."

* Read on for Part 2! And don't forget to vote ;) *