Lilah Tov (NaNoWriMo)

twelve

twelve

           “Will! Get up!” were the first words that entered my ears. At the same time, my room flooded with light, and someone began to eagerly shake my shoulders. Then, my comforter was ripped off of me, and the shaking continued. “William Henry Brooks, the third, do you know what day it is today?”

           “Christmas?” I guessed, because judging by the excitement level, that was the first thing that came to mind. But then I opened my eyes, even though I was unready to face the onslaught of light. And as I forced myself into an upright position, I stared at my decked-out older brother, realizing what today was. He had on American flag shorts, a red, white, and blue plaid button-down, and the phrase “USA!” painted on both of his cheeks. For Charlie Brooks, today was better than Christmas.

           “It’s Independence Day, Will!” Charlie said excitedly. “Now, get your ass out of bed and get dressed. If you come downstairs wearing anything but red, white, and blue, you’re dead.” He got up from my bed and then headed towards the door. Before he left, he turned back to me and said, “Be down in five for flag raising! Happy Fourth, bro!” And then he closed the door, leaving me to process what had just occurred. But even with the panel of wood separating us, I could still hear Charlie beginning to sing G-d Bless America. This was going to be a long day.

           I heaved myself out of bed and then wandered over to my dresser, pulling out my own pair of American flag shorts and a white T-shirt. Then I threw on a pair of boat shoes and stole a glance at time. 7:58 AM. It was the summer, and Charlie had knowingly woken me up before eight. In my book, that simply didn’t work. I could’ve slept for at least another solid thirty minutes, if not more. But like Christmas morning, Charlie couldn’t wait to freaking celebrate. In fact, this was worse than Christmas. Because on Christmas, Charlie was at least being energetic for selfish reasons. But today, it was for the good of our country and all that crap.

           Now, I loved the United States of America just as much as the next person. It was a lovely place to live and so far I didn’t have any complaints. In fact, one day I would probably end up serving in some branch of the nation’s government. But my enthusiasm for America wasn’t even comparable to that of Charlie’s. And Charlie wasn’t always so gung-ho about the country. Like, yeah, he had always liked it because our parents instilled quite a bit of nationalism into us from the moment we were born, but as the years progressed, things just escalated.

           When we were younger, we would spend the Fourth of July with family, setting off fireworks and spinning red, white, and blue pinwheels. But then in eighth grade or something, Charlie took his first American history class. Ever since, he had been one hell of a fervent citizen. It was good that he was passionate about something, but then last year when he took AP US History (APUSH), everything just got intensified even more. He became more interested in politics and the Constitution and everything that had to do with America. Whenever we had to say the Pledge of Allegiance during school assemblies, Charlie would be the loudest one in the room. And then when it came time for today, it was like the climax of the year. This was better than Christmas for him. This was the Fourth of July.

           I traipsed down the main staircase, my ears being filled with Charlie’s favorite playlist, which was conveniently playing throughout the house. It started with the anthem and included some contemporary favorites like American Idiot and Bruce’s Born in the U.S.A. Currently, Hail to the Chief was playing. I exited through the side door and came out to the back lawn, where the rest of my family was already waiting.

           My mom looked less than thrilled to be up, my dad was still practically asleep, but Charlie was grinning at the base of the flagpole. He was gripping a flag and the rope that would aid in ascending it, though he looked like a recovering heroine addict (not that I knew any heroine addicts) who had just been given a backpack full of the drug. Charlie was addicted to America. And today was equivalent to his backpack full of heroine.