Tri'sa immediately zips the compartment shut. I can feel the slight motion of her backpack as she walks, the jolt as she drops it in the car, hear the hum of her motor as she clearly speeds and takes some turns faster than she probably should.
About five minutes into the ride, you hear her shout. “I know that! I know that! Of course I know that! I just wanted to… you know?” She probably knows I can't respond. “You idiot! You're not supposed to… ugh.” Silence, then, “I guess I wanted to bring you because… but ugh! You're my brother, why would I rope you into this? You're just a brat!”
Eventually, she parks the car, opens the pencil case (the early morning light blinds me), and yanks me out. “I can't believe I'm doing this!” she says, holding me by the scruff of my neck. “Where should I drop you off?”
“By Martha's locker,” I say, but gears are already turning in my head. It's gross that my sister finds me attractive, but I know on some level Martha doesn't — not really. She thinks of me as a cross between an accessory and a child that needs to be protected. She doesn't find me sexy the way I find her sexy, but until today I'd always taken for granted that that the most I could ever hope to get. Now that I know that's not true…
Tri'sa drops me off by Martha's locker and runs back to her car while I think this over.
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