No More Pranks In My Next Life
Language: en
My brother called me the family’s most boring person—because I always cried at his pranks. When he mashed gum into my hair, I cried. When he yanked my chair, fracturing my tailbone, I cried for two months flat on my stomach. Mom and Dad brushed it off. “Boys will be boys,” they said. “Learn to take a joke. You’re cold and unloving as an older sister.” So I stopped crying. Even when he piled food onto my plate at dinner, I forced a grateful smile. But he’d mixed in a heavy spoonful of peanut butter. The second I shut my bedroom door, invisible hands crushed my throat. I couldn’t breathe.…