Scrapped Together

Chapter One: The Big Brother

John Dory knew three things with the utmost certainty to be true. The first being that he, without a doubt, was not named after a fish.

He was, however, named after his grandfather. Both of his grandfathers, actually; mom's dad John, and dad's dad Dory. He was proud of his name, and liked to hear people use it, in full, instead of just calling him "JD," the nickname his peers had ostentatiously labeled him with.

Oh, that made four things he knew, didn't it?

Because John Dory also knew that he liked the word "ostentatious." Dad had taught it to him after the young Troll had routinely declared himself the world's greatest pillow fort maker.

The third thing John Dory knew was that his favorite color was green, and not just because his hair had begun to shade that way after losing its baby luster. While, simultaneously, and quite to the contrary, being his favorite color because of the fact that his hair had started to come in green. It felt, to the boy, like a sign that he was growing up each and every time he caught sight of his verdant locks in the mirror.

So, naturally, he had become fond of the hue.

But, the fourth, and most important thing that John Dory knew in his heart of hearts was that today was the day. The day he finally got everything he'd ever wanted. It was a magical day, a wonderful day, it the day the boy would become the one thing he'd always hoped to be; a big brother.

Sitting in the living room scarely able to contain his excitement the youngster rocked back and forth with an energy too overwhelming to keep inside.

"Happy birfday baby!" he sang, bobbing to a beat he heard in his heart, and belting out lyrics as they came to him. "Happy birfday yeah! I want to see you baby. I want to see you now! I am your big brother, I want to meet you now! Happy birfday baby, I will take care of you I-" he stopped short.

There was a rhyme for this, John Dory knew it, he just couldn't quite think of it. Dad would know, dad always knew all the really good and clever words. Dad loved words, and wrote scrapbooks devoted to defining and comparing them, a seemingly endless task that not many Trolls seemed to appreciate. Dad called it one of his "little eccentricities," similar to mom's "gray episodes," when she got really sleepy and liked to stay in bed.

How did the grownups make singing look so easy? he wondered then.

Brow furrowed with thought the little boy struggled in vain to pluck the perfect cord from the air. He briefly contemplated getting one of the many handwritten tomes off the shelf to aid in his endeavor, but stayed where he was, still swinging his legs. It wouldn't do him any good, he realized, he didn't know how to read. So, he sat, bouncing in his seat, wracking his brain for the word that would complete his song.

Maybe this was his eccentricity, not finding good words for songs? he wondered, relishing with love all that made his parents who they were.

Then again, what if there was something wrong with him because he couldn't do it? It was a spontaneous thought, but in that moment it was a thought that lanced him through the heart with a tangible sense of dread, as inadequacy and doubt settled around his young shoulders.

What if he was broken? He worried with dismay.

What if, what if he was too broken to be a good big brother? Tears flooded John Dory's eyes at the notion, one which left him with a particularly bitter taste on his tongue.

It just didn't seem fair, especially after he'd been working so hard, and for what seemed like ages to prove himself. He'd been absolutely diligent in his chores ever since mom's belly had gotten small again, and she'd shown him the delicate egg nestled safely within the folds of her hair.