Sinister

Chapter-1

The boxes tumbled beneath my feet, and the books scattered everywhere across the floor. "Seriously? This is the third time!" I exclaimed in frustration. The books were too heavy for the boxes to hold. Unfortunately, those were the last boxes, and as I sat there for a moment, I couldn't help but gaze around my room, reminiscing about all the good memories I had made here. It would have been nice if we could have stayed instead of moving away, but we had no other choice. Mom got a new job far away, so we had to move suddenly.

"Brooke, come down for dinner," Mom called from downstairs. I wiped the sweat off my forehead. I had wanted to finish the entire packing first, but the boxes kept tearing, consuming all my time. I ran down the stairs. The paintings and pictures on the walls were all packed up, leaving the house feeling empty. The big wall clock and the armchairs where Mom and Dad used to sit were also gone. This would be our last dinner here.

"Brad! Don't play with your food!" Mom scolded Brad, my mischievous six-year-old brother, who had a tendency to treat his dinner like a toy. Last week, he had spilled orange juice on Jenny's toy unicorn, and the week before, he had thrown Mom's cell phone down the well at Grandma's place, not to mention breaking my favorite cassette. Brad stood up on his chair, scooped up a large spoonful of mashed potato, and hurled it directly at me.

"Ow! Brad, stop throwing food at me!" I protested, but he continued, launching tomatoes, carrots, and beans my way.

"Food! Food! Food!" Brad chanted gleefully. Mom wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"Listen here, Brad, this is our last dinner here. Let's not ruin it, okay?" she said gently, trying to calm him down.

" I want to play!" Brad insisted.

"Let's play tank-wars after dinner," I suggested, attempting to appease him.

"No! Tank-wars are boring. I want food!" Brad protested, refusing my offer.

"Okay, how about this?" I offered, sharing half my potato with him. But instead of eating it, he pierced it with his fork and launched it at Mon. "Hey! Brad!" I shouted, but Mom's face was already a mess of mashed potato. She took a deep breath and delivered the final blow. "That's it! You're not getting the tank you wanted for your birthday!"

Brad slumped in his chair, suddenly quiet. "Brooke, take your brother to his room," Mom instructed, her patience worn thin.

"Okay," I sighed, grabbing Brad's hand and leading him away.

"Let's play tank-wars in your new room tomorrow."

"Tank-wars!" Brad cheered. "I love tank-wars." "Good, but promise me you won't play with your food again," I said firmly.

"I promise."

"Cross your heart?"

"Cross my heart." He made an X sign on his right shoulder.

I opened his bedroom door and switched on the lights.

"It's time for you to sleep," I said, but Brad pinched my arm and kicked me.

"No! I don't want to sleep now. We just had dinner. I want to play!"

"Ow!" I cried.

"If you don't sleep now, Foxy the pirate will hook you with his hook."

"I'm not scared, and he's not even real," he retorted, starting to punch me with his other arm.

"Stop it!" I said angrily.

"Shut up!" he replied. I quickly grabbed him by the arm and said,

"Now listen here, you little rascal. Mom can scold you and take away your toys, but there's one thing she can't do that I can, and that's hit you. If you don't behave, you'll be in big trouble. Understand?"