Right. Everyone listens to Antonio because he’s the smart, kind, responsible one. Everyone likes him better. He’s the model student. I’m the delinquent. He’s a leader. I’m a rebel, a mischief maker. He’s the guy with a good heart. I’m the one with the fiery temper and foul mouth.
Also, I’m the messy one while he’s the one who keeps everything in place. That I can’t deny, especially not as I look around his bedroom.
The bed is made. There isn’t a single piece of laundry on it. The laundry is in the hamper in the corner, folded in a pile. There aren’t any bags of chips – Antonio doesn’t eat those – or magazines lying around, either. On his desk, the pens are in their cup. The headphones are hanging on the wall. The CDs are stacked neatly next to the keyboard. I bet if I rearranged them and put a different one on top, he’d notice.
Weirdo. How he manages to keep everything in order and still have time to do more than his fair share of homework, read books, play the piano and swim twenty laps in the pool every day is beyond me.
He’s not here in his room, which means he’s probably doing one of those last three. If he is, I don’t think he wants company. I’m not sure I want to keep him company, either.
I’m about to go back to my room when I hear a series of beeps. I turn my head and realize that Antonio has left his phone on the bedside table right next to his alarm clock. He probably did it on purpose, too, so that he won’t get disturbed. Sometimes I think he only got a phone because I asked for one and Mom wouldn’t get me one unless Antonio got one, too.
For a few seconds, I debate whether or not I should check Antonio’s phone. I know it’s not right to read other people’s messages without their permission – I know I don’t feel comfortable having others read mine – but I can’t say I’m not curious about who’s texting my brother. And it’s not like Antonio is denying me permission. He’s just not around to give it. If he was here, he wouldn’t mind. He definitely won’t get mad. Unlike me, he rarely loses his temper. Besides, what if the message is important? Shouldn’t I tell Antonio about it?
Another series of beeps pushes me towards my decision. I pick up the phone. As soon as I see the name on the screen, my eyes grow wide. My breath catches.
Jodie? As in Jodie Nicholson?
How long has she been texting Antonio? How did she even get his number? And why didn’t Antonio tell me he has hers? I thought there were no secrets between us.
I open the inbox. There’s no way I’m not doing that now. The first message is an invitation. Jodie is at a friend’s party and is wondering if Antonio could join her. The second message provides the address of the party. I’ve just finished reading it when a third message comes in.
Please come. I haven’t seen you in a while. It would be great to catch up. I bet I can still beat you at table tennis.
I grin because I remember her doing that.
Another message comes in.
If you come, I’ll buy you your favorite ice cream sandwich next time.
I chuckle. How old does she think we are? Still five?
Or I can lend you a book. I have a few new ones.
That sounds better, something Antonio would find tempting. I guess Jodie does know him well. But she’s sounding a little desperate. Does she really want to see Antonio that much?
Again, the phone beeps.
Please? Actually, this party sucks and I’d like to leave but I came in my friend’s car. Help an old friend out, will you?
Okay. So this is 9-1-1.
For a moment, I consider bringing Antonio his phone. But then a better idea comes to mind.
Antonio’s busy. I’m not. Besides, I liked Jodie when we were kids and I’ve been wondering what she looks like now. This is my chance to see her again, to catch up with her, to see if I still like her, to see if maybe she likes me, too. It’s a golden opportunity, one that fate has handed to me. I mean, I’m here. I’m the one who read her message.
Then I remember something. Jodie didn’t like me. I used to play pranks on her and tease her to get her attention and she didn’t like it. She even said she hated me. What if she still does? What if she sends me away as soon as she sees me? What if she tells all her friends about all the awful things I did to her?
It’s Antonio she wants to see. Not me. She didn’t even ask for my number.