A/N: Okay. I've officially established that this chapter is much better than the first one. I hope you agree.
Failure
The monitor lady tried to take Peter's hand as she led him down the hall. Peter instinctively pulled it away. "Alright," she muttered, and simply walked beside him.
The room was small, decorated in a way that would seem colorful and comforting, if Peter had been any other kid. Now the animated, large-eyed zoo animals seemed to be staring at him, taunting him about his failure. He shut his eyes.
"Aw, are you afraid of the animals, Peter?" He could almost hear the sickeningly sweet smile upon the monitor lady's face. He instantly opened his eyes. No, you dummy. Why would I be afraid of a bunch of elephants and tigers? He forced himself to answer calmly. "No, Ma'am."
"Good," she said nurturingly, but Peter could detect the note of skepticism. He should not have shut his eyes. She lifted him up onto the exam table, then bent down and put her hands on her knees. Her face was only a few inches away from his. "Now, we're going to get that monitor right out. I bet you're sick of it, just sick of it," She pressed her finger to Peter's nose. Peter scowled inwardly. "The doctor will be here in a minute." She left the room. Peter immediately reached up and put his hand on his monitor. He swallowed. He couldn't imagine gone. It didn't matter that it wouldn't physically be there. What did he care whether he felt it pressing weight against the nape of his neck? What bothered him was what its removal meant: failure. That he wasn't good enough. That he wasn't smart enough, not talented enough. He never would be. What would his mom and dad think? Everyone else? And, more importantly, how could he live with himself, now that he knew he wasn't all he thought he was? He felt his muscles tighten; his hands gripped the exam table. His breath quickened, he started to become lightheaded.
He had to calm down, but could think of nothing to console himself. Valentine had failed too. She was due to get her monitor out just after him. This same day. But he'd always known she'd fail. She was too nice, too attached to Mom and Dad. She could never have made it.
But I could have, Peter thought miserably. And I didn't.
The sadness that accompanied this thought made him relax and he unclenched his muscles. Just in time for the doctor to come in. "Peter! Hey, buddy! How's it going?"
Peter said nothing. "I know, I know. Anxious to get that monitor out, eh?" the doctor babbled on. Peter still said nothing. "It'll be easy. Won't hurt a bit."
The doctor stepped behind Peter. He felt the doctor's cold hands touching the skin near the monitor. Peter couldn't help but flinch. "Sorry there, Peter," the doctor said as if he were working hard at something, but nonetheless disgustingly cheerful. "There. Ready to come out." Peter tightened up again, but only slightly, perhaps even inwardly.
He felt a quick sting at the back of his neck, then an ache and the feel of a band-aid being pressed against his neck. Was that it? That was all? No lengthy pain, no dramatic shock, they had just taken...what? what happened? Something was missing...
"Okay, Peter," the monitor lady lifted him from the table. She took his hand and led him out. She opened the door that led to the waiting room. A woman with a toddler at her hip smiled at him. His mother. "How did it go?" she asked. "Okay," Peter replied.
"Is little Valentine ready, Ma'am? Or does she need a moment? With her brother?" The monitor lady's eyes kept darting between Mother, Valentine and Peter. The image made Peter nervous. He looked down.
"She'll be alright," his mother said. Peter looked up as she lifted Valentine from her hip to the monitor lady's. The monitor lady said, "We'll be out in just a moment."
Peter looked down again, not wanting to meet his mother's glance. I know I failed, Mom. I know. Just don't look at me like that.
Peter's glance turned from the floor to the baby carrier beside his mother. His baby brother was inside, fast asleep. Andrew was his name. Ender, as Valentine called him, and of course it had started to stick. It was against the law for families to have three children. It was unthinkable. His parents had a waiver. They had allowed it because Peter had been so promising that they thought his parents would lose a son. That's what everyone had always told him.
But now everything had changed. Peter could take nothing for granted anymore. Maybe it was not because Peter was promising that Ender had been born. Maybe it was because he wasn't promising. Maybe they had their doubts, even a year ago. Maybe they thought he was going down hill. Maybe they thought they needed his parents to have another child because they would need another child. A brother. Ender.
The thought burned Peter inside. How could they have lied to me? Why couldn't they just tell me the truth? Did they have to wait so long? Couldn't they have told me when Ender was born? No, when Mom's belly was big with him? Why did they let me think I was good enough when everyone knew I wasn't?
Ender was the charmed one. They would put a monitor on him, in a few years when he was three. Three. Peter would be seven. Seven when Ender got his monitor. Two years since Peter would have had his taken off. Ender wouldn't even remember Peter having the monitor. That was the worst. Ender wouldn't know that Peter was even considered to go into space, good enough or not. Peter would fall into anonymity beside Ender.
He couldn't stand for that. Not even in his own family. Peter had to set up authority. He had set up control. He would have to make Ender fear him. Valentine too. She was too close to Ender and Peter never liked her much anyway.
Fear. Peter needed their respect, and the easiest way, the only way Peter could think to do was respect. Peter didn't particularly like the idea, but it was better than the humiliation of being second rate.
Peter would have to start now. He leaned over the carrier in which Ender slept. "Bugger lover," he whispered, not loud enough to wake Ender or call attention from his mother, but loud enough so that he stirred. It would start small like that. Then it would progress as it need to so that, by the time Ender was old enough four or five, Ender would think of Peter as the terrible older brother. And Peter would have power over him and Valentine.
Peter felt a shiver up his back, at what he was about to do. He didn't like it. At all. But at the same time he did. He wanted it, needed it. The monitor had given him the power for a while. Now he would have to get his own power, by torturing his brother and sister. He would hate it, of course, but—
"Peter?" his mother was looking at him. Peter looked back at her. She smiled and tousled his hair. He smiled slightly, as if to say that this really upset him, but he was going to pull through anyway. In a way it was true. In a way it wasn't.
The monitor lady came out with Valentine on her hip. Peter glanced at her with momentary regret. Mother paid attention to her. Then Valentine bent over the carrier. "Ender awake?" she peered in with wide, loving eyes. Peter turned his head in disgust. Real disgust, not the disgust he now had to show. For a while, disgust with her would be enough. It would be a little natural for Peter to be petulant with her; he was five after all and she was only three.
"Peter?" Val's three-year-old voice made his name sound more like Peeto than Peter. He looked at her, annoyed. Val pointed to the carrier. Ender was smacking his lips at Peter. I'll always remember you like this, little brother. Stupid, helpless, in your carrier.
And, he added in the back of his mind, better than me.