Surviving the Andersen Brothers

Caleb Andersen

The few days following the fight with Lucas, I did not do much. I felt so drained. I felt so… lost.

            Stupid, I know. Who was Lucas Andersen to make me feel as such? One person in a house of nine who did not like me. One stubborn, spoiled, middle child who could not handle time away from his twin brother. He wasn’t much in my eyes. He lost whatever respect I ever had for him then. He wasn’t much.

            ….He was the one who got me to promise to stay away from Vincent….

            That shouldn’t bother me as much as it did. It’s not like I was going to try anything with him. I wasn’t trying anything with anyone! I needed to stay focused on what I had in front of me: school, sports, and my future. I could not have James and Lilly pay for my college as well as everything else they have done.

            I stood in the ginormous shed that they called storage, looking through boxes, trying to find something to do with my time.

            I wondered if anyone would know where I was.

            I wondered if anyone cared.

            I shook the darkness from my mind and grabbed at some rods to move them out of my way.

            I felt a sharp pain in the palm of my hand. I yanked my hand away to see a fish hook embedded into my flesh.

            I glared at the decently sized hook, noticing that it was attached to a clear plastic string, which was attached to one of the rods. The rods, I realized, were fishing poles. There were eight of them, all in varying color.

            It had been ages since I last went fishing.

            My attention focused back to the hook that attacked my hand. Maybe I should seek some help—especially since James was home and I wouldn’t have to go to Vincent for the first aid treatment.

            I poked the hook with my left index finger, wincing as it sent another round of pain though my hand, radiating up my arm.

            No, I wouldn’t seek help. I could take care of this on my own. Like removing a band-aid.

            “One… two… three!”

            I ripped the hook from my hand, tearing my skin with the hook’s barb.

            Ha!

            I did that on my own and I didn’t even cry! Oh yeah!

            That’s when the pain hit and the blood started to run. It wasn’t too bad. It was in need of a bandage though.

            I grabbed two of the fishing poles—the one that was responsible for hurting me and another—and headed back to the house. The poles, I observed, had names inscribed on the handles. The two I grabbed belonged to James and Caleb. Caleb’s pole had my blood on its hook.

            Caleb was in the backyard with his bow when I walked passed him. He noticed the blood slowly dripping from my right hand and the fishing poles in my left.

            “Jasmine,” he called, stepping in front of me. He was walking backwards so as not to slow me down. “What are you doing with the fishing rods? Why is your hand bleeding?”

            “I’ve decided I want to go fishing,” I told him. “And your fishing pole bit me.” Before we got to the house, I stopped. “I was going to invite Zach to go fishing with me, but seeing as I have your pole… do you want to go fishing with me?”