That time I got rejected three times on the same day!

Chapter 1

My brother was a strange boy. Well, that is what I thought when I watched him staring out the window with his eyes glazed over. Little did I know, that that was the face of a boy in love. Only later did I learn that he had been trying to court a girl in the class above him for an entire semester. It made me sad to watch him. When I walked into his room to cheer him up, all he would do was sit on the bed and hang his head, lovelorn, alone, and depressed.

He was young, not even touched by the curse of puberty. He was small for his age with auburn hair and a delicate, almost feminine face. A face of innocents, with eyes that weren't quite blue and weren't quite green. He was growing his hair at the time and was easily mistaken as a little girl. This is how I remembered him, my strong big brother.

His love was pure; the love of a child, unburdened by sexual desire and lust, a love that served no purpose and could find no outlet. Bottled up inside him, it ate away at his young soul.

"Vicky."

I forced my eyes open. The voice was coming from the corridor. Sleep crusted my eyes and I tried rub it away.

"Get up, you need to get ready for school."

It was mother. Her brown hair was in disarray. She was not a morning person, neither was I.

"Yes mother." I called yawning.

Something was weighing down my legs. At the foot of the bed was a white mound of fur. I moved my legs a little and a pink nose swiveled in my direction. Two golden orbs sized me up. The cat yawned and rolled on its back, stretching out her paws. Her name was Zoe. We picked her up from an animal shelter, and by we, I mean me. Mother loves cats, but I still had to persuade her. At that age I knew we weren't rich, but I never knew how dire our family's financial situation really was. A cat may not seem like a big expense, but ten dollars a week adds up at the end of the year.

I pushed Zoe aside. Her mouth opened wide, yawning away her cares. The air was cold and the warm embrace of the bed beckoned me back. Mother had put out my clothes. They were freshly ironed and still warm. I grabbed them and jumped back under the covers. Like a larvae, I squirmed about undressing my pajamas and putting on my school clothes. Zoe had had enough. By the time I emerged from under the covers, she was already at the door, tail waving in unrestrained agitation. I spread my arms wide, throwing the covers aside, newly born and emerging from my cocoon.

The timber floors felt like frozen ice beneath my feet. I tip-toed out of my room. My brother was difficult to wake up in the morning. He was less of a morning person than mother. His room was down the corridor to the left. In the winter, my room faced the morning sun and it would warm up that part of the house. My brother's room was on the other side of the house and would only receive the last rays of the setting sun. I crept inside quietly.

My brother's room was unlike other boy's rooms, not that I had been in many others, but from the rooms I had seen, it was different. His desk was neat and tidy. Books and notepads were stacked in a shelf on the right, and on the left was a small radio, which he liked to listen to in the evenings. We didn't have the money to have our own television or computers in our rooms, but they were always accessible in the lounge. My brother liked to sit on the computer in the evenings, chatting away to all his friends on the internet. I didn't know whether they were friends from school or just strangers, but the rhythmic tapping of the keyboard could always be heard above the sound of cars from the highway close to our house.

There was also a wardrobe in his room, always closed to the outside world. This was not his wardrobe alone, because we did not have a lot of space in the house. Once I had taken a peek inside. There were dresses and old coats, things that he would not wear, or would have been strange for a boy to wear. I had never seen him wearing a dress, but I knew he liked to play with dolls and other girly things.

Aside from the desk and wardrobe was a cupboard. I didn't know what he kept in there, but it had four large drawers. Whenever I went to open them, he would jump up from whatever he was doing and pull me away. "Don't touch my things!" he would say. In the far corner of the room was his bed. A simple hard mattress covered with a sleeping bag, which he used as a blanket. Mother had tried to give him a duvet, but he had refused, without stating a reason. The sleeping bag was purple, an old weather worn purple. The sleeping bag, like many things in the house had been inherited from the local charity. It wasn't that we didn't have the money to buy these things, but if we got these things cheaply we could use the money for something else.

At the end of the bed was an auburn head of hair facing away from me. I gently shook my brother.

"Wake up Henry, we need to go to school," I said.

He mumbled something, trying to shake away my hands. He was difficult to deal with in the morning.

"Henry! Wake up!" I said a little louder.

Still, he would not budge. I grabbed the sleeping bag and tore it off in one swift motion. Henry moaned and curled up into a ball. He wore a t-shirt and long pants as pyjamas, brown and green.

"Henry!" I said again, poking him in the ribs. "We need to go to school." He rolled over and helplessly slapped my hand away with his eyes closed.

"I don't wanna. Let me sleep."

I heard mother's footsteps in the corridor. I knew what was coming. I stepped into the furthest part of the room, waiting for the inevitable.

"Henry. Mother is coming."

I saw his brow twitch, but it was too late. Mother stormed through the open door. Icy cold water flew through the air. Henry jumped, but it was too late.

"Get ready for school Henry," she said.

Soaked from head to toe he looked at me angrily.

"Get out!"