It seemed the chaos never ended. Every moment was overflowing with the noise, the constant bickering, and not to mention the seemingly infinite supply of meaningless activities. And by how things were going it wouldn't be stopping anytime soon.

I sighed, glancing down at the finger painting project I was supposed to be doing for who knew what purpose. The page was blank and my fingers were perfectly clean. The farthest I'd gotten was a few lines sketching out a stupid idea. Not that I usually had a problem with this, but getting artistic inspiration in this circus of a summer camp was like trying to get a soccer player to think.

I looked up as a roar of applause rose from the general din of noise. "Speaking of soccer players," I muttered with an annoyed tone. Tai had once again demonstrated that the paint was indeed non-toxic by eating a square of the cherry red color for attention. That's what all the applause was for.

Tai grinned, showing bloody teeth to the amusement of the crowd. How stupid did you have to be to get along around here? Man, sometimes I kinda wished it was just a little bit toxic. Maybe then Tai'd deflate his goggled head a little and learn common sense.

"Matt! Hey, Matt. I'm done. Look at mine!" A loud voice yelled a few inches from my ear.

I glanced to my left at the painting T.K. was bouncing a few inches from my nose. At that distance it looked like either a geometric anomaly or else a rhino; I couldn't quite decide which.

"Wait a second, T.K." I snapped, leaning back to avoid getting paint on my face.

There was a yelp from behind me, as I bumped into a sixth grade boy who had been walking between tables just at the wrong time. "Hey!" he yelled. "Could you watch what you're doing?"

I looked up at his oversized glasses and dark, messy hair. Nerd. Definitely a nerd. "Sorry," I mumbled none too apologetically. Yep, I could tell this one was the sort to complain right to the camp counselors for the slightest inconvenience. He even had a Kleenex in his hand. Probably allergic to everything and their dog, as well.

"Hey, Matt. I'm ready to go back." T.K said from my side, turning to look at my project. "Matt? Haven't you done anything on yours yet? We've been here for an hour already, but your paper's blank." I winced. T.K. had abandoned his attempts at show and tell at just the wrong moment. Camp counselors didn't look too kindly on those who didn't participate in their stupid activities.

The nerdy guy stepped back and looked over my shoulder at the nearly blank page too, folding his arms deliberately.

I was getting sick of this. Everything I did wasn't good enough or done the right way for everyone else. Not with my peers, not with adults. What was everyone's problem?

I narrowed my eyes in a challenge at the sixth grade boy. I had just about had it. A fight was sounding better and better to me, and by the looks of it, this kid wouldn't be much of a problem. I clenched my fists a little tighter.

"Joe. What's going on?" my teacher asked the kid from the other end of the table. "Is something wrong?"

Great. Just great. This Joe guy was on speaking terms with my teacher. Just what I needed to make a great day better. Well, at least I hadn't punched him in the face yet.

Joe unfolded his arms, taking out the tissue and wiping his nose. He responded in a nasally, tattle-tale voice, "Well one of the children isn't participating, sir."

I scowled up at Joe. Children? Who was he calling a child? I unfolded my arms and braced myself on the table, an unexplained amount of anger coursing through me. The idea of punching something was becoming more and more inviting by the second as my teacher started to walk over. I was sick of being nice.

A speeding emerald comet flashed past the corner of my eye. SPLAT!

There was a scraping of feet and screaming from one table over. In one moment the place had turned to true chaos as a group of pink-clad girls leapt up, shrieking and stomping their high-heeled feet in outrage. I had no idea what was going on and by the dazed expressions around me, no one else did either.

One of the girls, the one wearing a big, pink hat yelled, "You jerk! Look what you did to my gloves!"

The girl waved her now green and pink gloves in our general direction. I stifled a snicker. If I played nice for just a little longer, T.K. and I could get out of here. But still, heaven forbid she couldn't color coordinate at camp. Her group of friends all gasped as one in sympathy.

The kids behind me started to laugh. I sure couldn't blame them. The girl scrunched up her face and snapped. She grabbed a spoon and before I knew it, she had launched a barrage of yellow paint at the accused group.

I yelled, "T.K. Look out!" and pushed my brother out of the way as I ducked myself. Yellow splatterings of paint plastered a group of Fourth graders and to my approval the indignant Joe by accident.

I quickly glanced over at the victims of the assault. With barely any warning all seven kids now had spoons loaded and ready with a rainbow of ammunition. They were going to make this into a battle. That was the last thing I wanted, to be involved in another childish display of immaturity. And one that those present would end up cleaning up. It was time to leave.

"Come on T.K. Let's get out of here," I whispered, grabbing my brother's hand as the first volley was fired and screams accompanied the first victims. There was so much commotion, no one even tried to stop us from leaving.

I breathed a sigh of relief as we walked towards the lake. T.K. laughed as we got outside, grinning from ear to ear. At first I thought it was from the same sense of freedom that I was feeling, but when he continued, I wasn't so sure.

I cocked an eyebrow at my little brother and asked, "What's so funny, T.K.?"

T.K. turned around and looked up at me. "You know how that girl in the funny hat thought it was those people behind us?" T.K. smiled and pointed at his own, green, baseball cap to emphasize. "I was the one who hit that girl's gloves with the paint."

He looked so proud that I was suddenly angry. I frowned. Man, could this really be my little brother? He was just like the rest of them. I had thought maybe he wouldn't be, but here he was, bragging about what he did.

"T.K." I whispered, not sure what to say after that. I leaned against the tree we were standing by, belatedly realizing that I was fingering my harmonica in my frustration.

T.K.'s laughter died away as he watched me, leaving us in relative silence.

A breeze came up and sent a chill down my spine. T.K. shivered.

I sighed, standing back up and taking my jacket off. "Here," I said, tossing it to T.K. and leaning back against the tree in my tank top.

T.K. wrapped it around his shoulders and I had the urge to laugh as it covered him down past his sneakers. When the coat was secure, T.K. said, "I just didn't want you to get into trouble, Matt."

I looked down at my little brother where he stood, blue eyes intense under his green hat.

He continued, "I know I got you into trouble and I was just trying to make it better. You've gotta understand, Matt. I don't want to make you hate me."

I raised my eyebrows. "I don't hate you, T.K." To be honest, I was grateful. Maybe T.K. wasn't like the rest of them. If he was he would have stayed inside and helped with the chaos. Instead, he had only done what he needed to and left with me.

T.K. continued to look at me and finally I nodded and shrugged. It was as close as I was going to get to saying thank you for now. I put my harmonica back in my back pocket and stood up. "Well, try not to get into any trouble yourself or Mom will blame me for not watching you close enough."

T.K. smiled. "Right! But you don't have to look after me all the time, Matt. I can take care of myself too."

I shook my head and replied, "No, T.K. I do need to watch out for you. It's…" I threw him a bit of a smile as we began walking back to the cabin. "It's what brothers do. Especially big brothers. I'll always be there for you."

I blushed, feeling I had said too much, but T.K just smiled. "Thanks, Matt."

I smiled back and flicked the hat off his head jokingly, watching as T.K.'s blonde hair stuck up crazily as my own. "Maybe the kid would turn out all right," I thought to myself as I picked up the hat and put it on his head.

T.K. just laughed good-naturedly and I pulled out my harmonica. T.K. was one of the only people I would play for besides myself. I serenaded him, watching as he turned dreamy-eyed with memories, all of the way until we could see the cabin.

"I missed you, Matt." T.K. said.

And without thinking, I responded, "I missed you too, T.K."