Rylie
"BRODY, I need help," I yelled, standing on my tip-toes in attempts to reach a book on the highest shelf. There was one old, brown book with a leather cover in the library, calling my name. The title read The Mystery of the Bell Island Curse. It was a mouthful, but just what I needed.
"I'm coming," he replied, his footsteps echoing in the abandoned library. But he was slow, as he usually is, and I was impatient.
"Hurry up!" I whined. "For someone with such long legs, you're slow,"
"Be patient, you bi– Bianca,"
I rolled my eyes before hoisting myself up on one of the wide shelves.
"What the he– helicopter are you doing?" Brody sighed. I grabbed the book and hopped down, grinning up at the blonde haired, green eyed boy.
Brody was tall, had a narrow nose and thick eyebrows, and he's my very best friend. He's also my only friend, but that's not important.
"Since when are you interested in history?" Brody questioned, taking the book from me. "I thought you hated that subject,"
"Yeah, but they don't teach us the important things. Like, I dunno, a curse that caused an entire island to be abandoned," I replied, taking the book back. "This is the stuff I'm interested in, not the sports people played in the early twentieth century,"
I opened the book and started flipping through the pages, and Brody continued. "If you're so interested in the curse, why haven't you tried to figure out how to lift it?"
"Because that's terrifying! And I'm not as insane as you, thank you very much,"
"Whatever," he chuckled. "We should head out before the security guard catches us again,"
•
"An hour later," my brother, Anthony drawled, his eyes not leaving the screen that projected his video game. I rolled my eyes.
"That shower was only forty-seven minutes," I corrected.
"Only," he replied sarcastically. "You were with your weirdo boyfriend all day again,"
"One, Brody isn't a weirdo. I am," I crossed my arms. "And two, he's not my boyfriend. He's basically a brother to me. A better one than you, might I add,"
He didn't seem fazed– that's too bad. Anthony's a jerk, but he's my brother.
I was hoping he'd feel something about me saying Brody was better than him. "Oh yeah, sure,"
"He's like you, but nicer. And he doesn't smell like cornmeal all the time,"
That got him to look over at me. His dirty blonde locks flopped in his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know if you're talking about the nice part or the smell part," I smirked, hopeful that he wouldn't say the latter.
"The smell part!"
I sighed. Of course. "Forget it, that was a joke. You smell fine,"
He really doesn't.
