The Chemistry Test

12. puns and explosions

Day Seven

I'd always been a Sunday person.

Sunday was the one guaranteed day of the week spent with my family.  Neither of my parents worked on Sunday, and Emett didn't have soccer practice, so over the years it'd become 'Sunday Fam-Day'.

Sunday was also the day Hunter's family threw the Hollingsworth BBQ's, events to which dozens upon dozens of families regularly showed, kids frolicked on the shores and in the waves of the Hollingsworth's lake, and more barbecued foods were cooked than able to be eaten. 

With a soccer ball tucked underneath his arm, my toe-head blonde little brother bounded through the french doors into the garden where I knelt in the damp soil. 

"Whatcha doin?"  He chimed, examining the flower bed in front of me. 

I wiped my forehead with the sleeve of my floral-printed glove and smiled at him.  "Hanging out with the plants.  What's up?"  I shoved the garden spade into the soil and looked up at him. 

"Hm..."  Emett puckered his lips and glanced down at the ball underneath his arm.  "I wanna kick some ball." He sported an endearingly confident smile.   "Let's play."

"Emett, I can't.  Who's going to plant these petunias?"  I protested, pinching the packet of seeds as I leaned back on my foot. 

"But, but, but-"

"No butts will plant any petunias, Emett."  I suppressed a cheeky grin as Emett giggled at my puerile comment. 

"Your butt probably could."  He squeaked in between chortles. 

I didn't know whether to take it as a compliment or not.  My mouth fell open as my lips broke into a massive grin.  "What's that supposed to mean?"

Emett closed his lips and snickered impishly.  He bent down and scraped a clod of dirt between his fingertips as his green eyes flickered down to meet mine. 

"Emett,"  I started, holding my hands in front of me defensively.  "You better not."

He was silent for a moment before raising his chin and muttering, "Play soccer with me, or face the conspequences." He'd meant to say 'consequences', but I didn't have the heart to correct him.

I opened my mouth and began to say, "I can't-" When he advanced and crumbled the clod of soil into tiny speckles over my head.

I recoiled away from him and hissed in disbelief, "I can't believe you just did that."

"What are you gonna do about it?"

In a flash, I dug my fingers into the flowerbed and chucked a wad of soil at him.  It hit him square in the chest and crumbled into hundreds of pieces.

Emett clutched his chest dramatically and threw his head back.  "I've been shot!"

Just then, Dad came treading into the garden, his thick golden hair tucked underneath the navy Ralph Lauren polo cap he always wore on weekends.  It was nice to see my father in casual clothes as opposed to a three piece suit, lawyer attire.  It was more personal this way.

"What are you two crazy kids up to?"  He chuckled, grabbing Emett from behind and tickling him.  Emett writhed and wiggled, a series of giggles erupting from his chest. 

"Stop!"  He squeaked in between chortles, doubling over in laughter.  Dad chuckled and ruffled Emett's platinum tufts of hair. 

Standing side by side, our father was a skyscraper and Emett merely an ant in comparison.  Emett looked up at Dad sourly and proceeded to stick his tongue out.  Dad widened his eyes and mimicked my brother's expression, pulling his tongue out and tugging on his ears, sending both Emett and I into hysterical giggles.