This is where it all ends.

The Tutor Games.

"Ms. Adorré, you are failing my class."

Such were the words that led me to my current predicament.

"No, no, NO!"

"What?!"

"You're doing it all wrong!"

"How am I doing it all wrong?!"

He huffed. "Very carefully."

We sat on my bed in my room.

"What the hell does that mean?!"

He got all up in my face, and my heart pounded so loudly that I swear that he could hear every, loud, fricking beat.

"It means that you're not being careful!"

I stood up on the bed. "Argh!You're such a fucking boy!" I yelled, rather loudly, in fact.

Footsteps pounded up the stairs.

That's weird.

That's notDad.

And it's certainly not Mom.

I didn't miss the whispered "Oh, shit." that came out of the boy's mouth.

The figure stormed into the room, hair dishevelled and blonde, looming over both of us.

"What the hell is going on here?!"

I gave my brother a little wave. "Hi Alec."

----------

We sat in the kitchen,

"So, let me get this straight. You," he pointed to me, "are failing your math class."

We nodded.

"And so you," he gestured to the boy,"who is helping out your class because your parents don't want the hassle of putting you in another school-"

I interjected. "Hey! That's not entirely true!"

He continued nonetheless. "Have decided that because my sister is getting an F that you can just swoop in and save her from failing-dom."

"Yep, pretty much."

"Alec, calm down."

"I will not 'calm down'! You have a boy in the house, in your room!"

"Alec."

He sighed. "Alright. Go study. Get into college."

"Grow up right. Don't do drugs."

"Don't smoke."

"But, remember, have fun!" We said together.\

It was, and had been, a ritual for us ever since-

Nevermind.

Both the boy and I stalked out of the room, and up the stairs into my room again.

"Your brother seems nice," he said, nodding, "A little stange, perhaps..."

He spoke again. "Oh, and call me Avan."