Sincerely, The Stranger You Call Sister

Year 1: Score!

Dear Little Brother,

My Mum once tried to get Jacob into sports. For the publicity of course.

She put him through soccer, football, swimming, basketball -even a couple martial arts, but none of them stuck. Sure, she'd try to twist his arm, force him to pick a sport and stick with it -but Jacob was a moody, broody individual even as a kid. (Kinda like yourself, just a lot less fucking vindictive.)

He would maybe give it an honest try the first couple of weeks, but he quickly lost interest and tried to drop it like a hot one. And when Mum would resist taking him out of whatever club, he would dig his heels in and refuse to participate. Eventually the coaches would have to take her aside and explain that there was nothing they could due to Jacob's stubbornness.

Mum only stopped pestering him to find a hobby outside of gaming until Nora fell in love with dancing. I think it was when she was around six or seven, and from then on Mum would sign her up for every seasonal kid's competition so that she would be able to get all the likes and shares she felt entitled to.

To be able to play the role of a hardworking, proud Mum, if only the strangers on the internet.

(Because apparently my debate club wasn't "flashy" enough, and even as I tried switching to drama it "wasn't the same" due to my age. Fucking bitch.)

Sometimes I can't help but wonder. What would she think, if she could see me now? Would she be sitting up there, in the bleachers, with her expensive iPhone and manicured nails, waiting to film me? Would she wrap an arm around my shoulders, hugging me close, as she snaps a picture of the two of us with the golden trophy in my hands? Would my winnings be displayed in the living room for all the house guests to gaze upon?

Would she be proud?

There's an empty feeling in my gut. A gnawing, ravenous hole that threatens to swallow me whole. To bury me under the twisting, aching pain in my chest with bitter memories of empty seats and Nora's delighted laughter as she comes back from a celebratory dinner with Mum and Mum's friends, mocking me.

Then I fucking remember that Mum is -was- a shallow bitch, and isn't worth any of the fucks I used to give as Olivia. Much less any lingering longing and childish love towards a parent, no matter how unfit, I may still have.

Sincerely,

The Stranger You Call Sister

~xXx~

October 1st, 1938.

The student body is buzzing louder than usual this Saturday morning. A lot fucking louder.

Most students aren't crawling out of bed until ten o'clock during the weekends, but by the time Tom and I enter the Great Hall at nine o' four it's already completely packed. I even find a few older students running out with toast stuffed in their mouths, trying to score the "good seats."

"You ready for the match?" I grin at Tom.

He gives me a dull look. "Oh, I simply can't wait to watch as fourteen imbeciles do their best to knock each other off magical cleaning tools, attempt to brash their skulls open with flying buldgers, and desperately try to catch a tiny, shiny ball for an unknown period of time," he responds dryly.

"Oi, I'm going to be flying on one of those 'magical cleaning tools' and trying to catch the tiny, shiny ball for an unknown amount of time next year," I protest with mock offence.