How to Catch an Oppa (#Wattys2015)

Step Eight- Go home. Get naked.

            I dreamed of him. His kisses dotting the curve of my spine. Warm breath soliciting goose bumps from my skin. Fingers tracing my sides then tickling, tickling, tickling until I couldn't take it anymore.

            "Stop it, Christian." I laughed out.

            "Ooooh, who is Christian?"

I sat up and knocked my head against what felt like a cement wall.

            "Oww that hurt! But don't think a head-butt is going to make me forget. Who is Christian?"

Ah, if only it had really been cement. At least then I'd just have a concussion instead of a walking, talking migraine-inducing kid sister.

            "Maia, why are you in my room? You know the rules." I asked, pulling the covers over my head as I slid back onto the mattress.

            "Oh no you don't."

Even through the comforter I felt her dagger-like fingers against my ribs. I bit my lip, trying not to give her the satisfaction of a giggle, but it was no use. Seeing me cave in, she snatched the cover away and continued her assault.

            "Ok, ok." I whined, writhing away from her fingers.

            "You know the word. Say it!"

            "No!" I screamed, defiant until the end.

            "Have it your way." Maia jumped on top of me and resumed the onslaught.

She'd started this "wake-up" routine at the age of three, pretending to be a ticklesaurus. I was easily the most ticklish person I knew so her job wasn't hard. Still, at 16, I thought she might have outgrown the game. Yet every time I returned home to Pembroke Pines, I awoke to the same fate.

            "What's the password?"

I needed to escape, but doing so meant throwing us both from the bed. I settled for the last resort.

            "Mom!" I choked out.

            "Oh, now you're really gonna get it!" Maia's force strengthened, but I wasn't having it. If I had to hit the deck, at least I could use her to break my fall. When she paused, I executed a double twist that sent us both tumbling to the floor in a tangle of sheets.

            "What is going on in here?" My mom asked, pushing through the door. It was early o'clock in the morning, but her cropped hair and minimal make-up were perfection. At 45, she could easily pass as my older sister. A fact she never let me forget.

            "Nothing!" We sang out, untangling ourselves then turning to face her.

            "Uh huh. Well, I don't serve food on the floor so if ya'll want breakfast I suggest you make your way to the kitchen."

Maia glanced at me with that mischievous look I'd come to fear. In the next instant, she'd grabbed a pillow from the bed and launched it at the back of my mom's head. She turned like a retired supermodel caught in a slow-motion reel.

            "Who had the nerve?"

            "She did it." Maia and I pointed at each other.

            "Mhmm..."

Before we knew it she'd kicked the pillow up into waiting hands and tossed it like a Frisbee. We tried to duck, but were no match for her speed. The pillow, though made from the feathers of some poor duck, felt like a 2lb. sack of flour when it collided with our faces.