Between Logan and Jamie {complete}

Jamie: 6.

THE SONG! THE GIRL IS ONLY TWELVE YEARS OLD AND SHE IS AMAZING. I WISH I COULD SING LIKE HER!

“Fletcher are you going to talk to me?” I demanded, pounding my fists on his door. Breakfast was ready and his place at the table was missing. The house, which was full the night before with people, buffet food and chatter, was clean this morning with just the family, sitting at the table. Only Fletcher was missing.

“Fletcher!” I growled. “Come on, man!”

“You won’t get a reply,” a voice said behind me. I turned quickly, wincing as my back hurt to see Brookleyn standing by the stairs.

“What?”

“Fletcher. He won’t come out of his room. It’s locked.”

To make her words true, I twisted the handle of the door. It was in-fact locked. I sighed, looking back up at my younger sister.

“See I told you—”

“Can you do something about it? You’re his twin.”

“No can do. He won’t listen. Just leave him, Jamie. You’re breakfast is going cold.”

I swallowed, nervously playing with my hands. This was my fault. It was because of me that my brother was acting like this. “Go ahead. I’ll be right down.”

“Okay,” the sister replied, shrugging. She knew I was going to try again. I heard her footfalls walk down the stairs none the less.

“Fletcher!” I called again. “You locked your door.”

“So?” Came as a reply from behind the door.

“Unlock the door, I’m warning you, Fletcher. You’re wasting time!”

I paused, waiting for something to happen and sighed after a moment, knowing I was wasting my own time now. I began to turn on the balls of my feet to walk down to breakfast when I heard a clicking sound. Fletcher had unlocked his door, opening it a tiny bit. I crept back over to where I was just standing and looked through the gap of my brother’s door. He was trotting back inside, and clambered into bed.

I took this as an invitation and walked into his room. It was dark, the curtains were drawn and the scent of his deodorant wasn’t as strong as it was every other day when I walked past his room.

My eyes flickered towards my brother, who was curled up under the duvet of his bed.

I went around to his side, so he could see me and I turned on the light. He looked up at me and I raised an eyebrow.

He didn’t speak, and so I sighed, bending down so my head was level with his.

“Do you ever regret anything?”

“No.”

“Why?” My brother asked.

“There is no point crying over yesterday, Fletcher.”

“Yeah but—”

“It’s weird don’t you think? That to take life freely, you have to take it too seriously.”

“What?”

“Well if you think about it; think of all the things – all the accidents that could possibly happen, and then convince yourself that you shouldn’t waste your time worrying about it because every second you live brings you closer to your death. So instead, you do everything you want to do, and you don’t take notice of other people, and you have fun – because you feel the need to do everything you want before dying. It makes you think seriously about life, and wanting to live it freely.”