Pull Yourself Together

Sam I

The day has ended. After escaping Summit High's rowdy crowds and congested traffic, I walk over to Ulysses S. Grant Middle School to pick up my younger sister, Sofia, who is in the seventh grade. It is a short walk, but I am feeling tired by the time I reach the school. Sofia is sitting on a wooden bench outside of the school, staring intently at the big old-fashioned library across the street. Her neon pink Skechers are kicking at the sidewalk, leaving an interesting pattern in the layer of dust covering the concrete. When she sees me, she bounces up and skips towards me.

"Hey, Sam! How was your day?"

"It was good, how about yours?" I reply, smiling inwardly at her enthusiasm. Never change, Sofia.

Sofia launches into a long-winded tale of her day's events as we begin walking home together. She saw her best friend Alyssa today for the first time in a month and spent the day catching up with her, but during science class Mr. Tomlin separated them. She had been forced to covertly exchange notes with Alyssa through hastily folded paper airplanes, but Mr. Tomlin had seen them and sent them out of class. They would have to meet with Mr. Tomlin later to make up the work they had missed. "So unfair," Sofia huffs, and I nod my head in agreement.

The walk home passes quickly, and I do not feel tired anymore. I enjoy spending time with my little sister.

As we walk up the driveway in front of our house, Sofia falls silent. We pause and listen to my dad shouting at our older brother Luca over something or other. I glance at Sofia, who is trembling slightly, and feel a flash of rage at Dad for scaring her like this. Pushing the anger down until it simmers in the back of my mind, I beckon Sofia towards my room's window. After helping her through, I climb in myself.

Sofia goes to her room to start her homework, and I throw myself onto my bed, putting in earbuds to muffle the sound of my father's shouts. I lie there for a minute, then get up and unzip my backpack to start my homework.

Homework always takes me a long time, not because I have trouble with the material, but because I really want it to be perfect. I only turn in homework that I have double- and triple-checked for factual accuracy, grammar, word choice, and if I am feeling especially particular, quality of handwriting.

I take a break at 6:00 to check on Sofia. She is lying on her stomach on top of her bed, having a conversation with Alyssa over the phone. Her Algebra homework lies undone by her feet. I gently nudge her shoulder, and she flinches but relaxes when she sees that it is only me. I tell her that she should start her homework soon, so she should wrap up her conversation with Alyssa. She nods, but we both know that as soon as I walk out of the room, she will resume her conversation where it left off, an end nowhere in sight.

I go to the kitchen, passing through the living room where Dad is snoring loudly in front of the television, beer bottle in hand. I fix a sandwich for Sofia—her favorite with white bread, American cheddar, smoked ham, mustard, and absolutely no mayonnaise. I grab a granola bar for myself; I'll eat a real dinner later.

Luca is nowhere to be seen—he is probably out with friends, having escaped the moment Dad dozed off. Luca will not be back until morning, and Dad will throw a fit when he sees Luca wandering drunkenly around our front lawn.

When I return to Sofia's room, she is sitting on her bed with the most innocent look on her face. She says 'thank you' sweetly as I hand her the sandwich. I turn to go, and after I close the door to her room, I hear her laughing and talking to Alyssa. I should tell her off, but I need to do my own work right now and I do not feel like making her hang up on her best friend anyway.

I am in my room working until almost 10:00. When I go out to the kitchen to make myself dinner, Dad looks at me and grunts, before resuming his gaze on the television. I roll my eyes to myself and fix my own sandwich. I then eat it quickly and get ready to go to sleep.

When I leave the bathroom freshly showered, Dad has lumbered off to his room. The beer bottle lies empty on the floor, and the television is still on. Annoyed, I pick up the bottle and turn off the television, then clean Dad's sloppily made meatloaf off of the kitchen stove so that Mom does not freak out when she gets home—if she even comes home tonight. She has been known to disappear for weeks on end.

It is almost 11:00 when I check on Sofia, who is sound asleep with her still-undone Algebra homework at her feet. I toss a blanket over her body and turn off her light, then retire to my own room to lie down in bed and think.