˗ˏˋOur Differencesˊˎ˗

-2-

"You're never going to get done with this page are you?" Anna stared at me.

"Probably not." I replied.

I was sitting on my bedroom floor with my laptop, designing the cover for the school paper this week.
This week was somewhat interesting because of homecoming, so the journalism students were pretty much forced to take as many pictures as possible. Thankfully, I've been promoted to editor this year and don't have to touch the camera anymore.

Josh sat on a beanbag chair, drinking a Dr. Pepper.
"Can you hurry up? I want to go to the movies."

"I have to finish this or I'm in shit."

"Can't you finish it tonight when we get back?"

"No, Josh, because when we get back, it'll be past midnight — knowing you and Anna." I remarked, not removing my eyes from my laptop screen.

"That's not true." Anna argued with a mouthful of chips.
"We always get you home on time."

"What about the time that you brought me to Target one night, and then drove around town listening to music for three hours? That was a little bit past midnight if I remember correctly."

"No! Last week I brought you home before midnight!" she defended herself.

"That's because we were studying at the library that closed at 6." I responded, while Josh cackled next to me.

"Whatever. At least we aren't bad influences." Anna rolled her eyes.

"Touché." Josh agreed.

I resisted the urge to laugh. None of us were necessarily 'good influences,' but we're all too lazy to do something extreme.

I heard loud footsteps outside of my door, and my brother yelling super loud, so I curiously took a peek to speculate the situation.
Him and Devin were running up the stairs, yelling about Call of Duty, and whatever other shit.

I groaned in annoyance and shut the door immediately to drown out their yelling. For the sake of my sanity.

"Does Dylan just never have homework?" Anna questioned.

I shrugged, nearly careless.
"It wouldn't matter. He's not gonna do it."

I never understood where his lack of discipline came from. Neither of our parents are that way. In fact, Dad's the hardest worker I know. Dylan's just a different breed or something.

And he's so weirdly influential to others. Devin might would be a decent person if he wasn't so far up my brother's ass all the time.

I finished the page later on, and skipped the movies with Anna and Josh. They understood that I was busy, so they went without me — which normally would offend me, but I was too tired to care.

I sat at the table for dinner, drinking a cup of water, amusing myself with the large ice cubes that tapped against the sides of the glass cup.

Dylan trudged down almost ten minutes into dinner with Devin practically glued to his side.

"Sorry, we had to hook up some chords to the TV so we can make some serious game progress tomorrow."

"There won't be any game progress, tomorrow." Dad spoke, aggravated by his son's lack of homework.

I think we were all aggravated.

"What do you mean?" Dylan hissed.

"You haven't been studying. And I know for a fact that you have three tests tomorrow. Exams are coming up soon, there's plenty of work for you to do around the house, and you need to apply for a job to save up for college."

"So I'm not allowed to play one goddamn game?" Dylan argued like this was the dumbest thing he's ever heard.

Devin sat in silence while they went back and forth.

He's used to shit like this happening almost everytime he's over. Mom and Dad used to hold back when his friends were over, but now they don't care. Sometimes they really let him have it and it amuses me so much.

"Nope. You've been playing way too much, and it's senior year. Time to buckle down." Dad replied.

"Why do I have to save up for college anyway?? You could pay me into any college I want."

Dad gave him a pissed off glare.
"You know damn well I won't do that. If you want a decent college to accept you, you save up for it yourself. I can't baby step you through everything. You have to be successful in this life."

Dad's idea of success is attending an Ivy League or becoming president.

Dylan was silent through the rest of dinner, while Mom asked Devin question after question because he hasn't come over in a few days.

"How's your family doing?" she asked politely.

Devin gave a casual shrug.
"They're alright. Dad's been grilling me about soccer. Nothing new."

Sounds a lot like my own Dad.

Mom smiled after he said this.
"Well, for what it's worth, I think you've been killing it this season."

And he has.

I can't help but stare at Devin through every soccer game and practice. He's so athletic and talented; always scoring goals so calmly and effortlessly. He's fast too. I could stare at his leg muscles all day and never get bored. Even while we were sitting at the table, I couldn't help but sneak a glance.

"Thank you." he replied with a warm smile, something I don't see him do often.
"I appreciate that."

He normally wears a cold expression, like he couldn't care less about anything or anyone in the world.

But he was always so kind and genuine when he was speaking to my parents. They've always been good to him, and I think he really appreciates it deep down.

That, and he puts on a facade for certain adults. Any normal person knows that it's fake and artificial.

Dylan finished eating quickly and him and Devin both retreated upstairs. I secretly hated that he was getting up because I couldn't look at him anymore.

I finished eating slowly, taking my time and speaking to my parents about my day. They never seemed particularly interested in what I talked about unless it involved soccer. So I tried to keep the conversations focused on that most of the time.

Dad left the table and went to go work in his office. I'm still not entirely sure what he does, which is pathetic. It's something involving business and owning companies and office work and whatnot.

All I know is that he makes a shit ton of money from it.

We've always been loaded, ever since I was a kid. I never questioned where it came from, because it never mattered to me.

Money is money.

I always had a hard time making friends in elementary and middle school because of it. When you have money, people want to be your friend, and I was always extremely aware of that. Still, I only rock with Josh and Anna in my social circle for a multitude of reasons — one being that they've never cared about my Dad's wealth.

I went to my room for the night and got ready for bed.