Most people say I'm kind of a tomboy. I'm bold and energetic, and I don't particularly care for girly things, like makeup and jewelry. Once in a while, for a party, I'll wear a pretty dress and put on some lipstick and style my long, bright red hair.
The reason I'm sort of rough-and-tumble is that I've grown up with six older brothers. Six. In fact, I'm the only daughter of Arthur and Molly Weasley. I'm also the youngest child. This can either be good or bad: the pros are my parents kind of spoil me; the cons are that my brothers constantly tease me.
My oldest brother, Bill, is really nice. He's very busy, with work and everything, but he still comes to visit us a lot. I like to tease him about his ponytail, but he just laughs and playfully punches me on the shoulder. When I was younger, he would carry me on his own broad shoulders and twirl me around. I loved it.
Next comes Charlie. He's the brother who I kind of forget about, because he spends most of his time in Romania, meddling with dragons. One time he gave me a necklace with a real dragon scale on it. It sits in a velvet box on my dresser.
I'm sorry to say this, but I really can't stand Percy. All he cares about is work, work, work…I don't even know why! His big nose is always buried in a book. Whenever Mum or Dad asks him to fetch something, he puffs out his chest and walks with this confident stride as if he's the most important person in the world. And the time he was named Hogwarts Head Boy…I wasn't sure if the way he proudly wore his stupid little badge made me want to vomit or punch him in the face!
One time, I was walking down the hall in our house (which we nicknamed "The Burrow") to my room, a parchment monster turned the corner and was headed straight in my direction! I tried to veer out of the way, but it was no use. We collided, and as the "parchment monster" fell, I realized it was just Percy carrying a load of paperwork.
"Oh, sorry, Perce," I apologized. I tried to help him collect the papers that had been scattered across the floor, but Percy just whisked me away.
"Never mind," he muttered. He adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses, picked up the papers, and walked away, grumbling to himself.
But now, here come my favorite brothers: Fred and George! You guessed it-they're twins. In my opinion they're the funniest guys I've ever seen. They're hard-core pranksters, but sometimes they get into trouble and make complete fools out of themselves. Mum doesn't enjoy their mischief as much as I do.
The twins' room is right down the hall from mine, and I can hear just about everything they're up to. Once I was reading a book on my bed, when an explosion made me jump. Alarmed, I leaped out of bed, scurried down the hall, and threw open the door to Fred and George's room. I began coughing and choking from the billowy smoke pouring out of the room. When the smoke cleared, there were my brothers, their ginger hair nearly charred black.
"Whoops," Fred remarked. "Guess we shouldn't have added that potion, eh, George?"
"I told you we should've used talcum powder," George sighed.
Since I had no idea what on earth they were talking about, I just burst into laughter. The twins joined in.
"Ah, poor Ginny!" Fred chuckled.
"What's it like to have a pair of brothers like us?" George asked.
"Crazy," was my answer.
Last (and maybe least) is Ron, the youngest of my older brothers. Right now, Ron is fourteen. I'm thirteen. He's kind of whiny sometimes, and gets sort of miffed when Fred or George pull a silly prank on him. I try to tell him to just laugh it off, but he gets all mopey.
Even though Ron's a pouty-pants, I'm still really close to him. We had a pillow fight in the living room, and I socked his face with a really plump cushion.
"Ginny! What was that for?!" he cried, rubbing his freckled nose.
"Payback, Mr. Mullet!" I giggled.
Ron's face turned beet-red. "Look, I'll cut my hair soon, okay?"
But I just kept on giggling and dancing around like a fool.
Ron socked me in the stomach with a pillow and nearly knocked the wind out of me. I fell back, sprawled out on the floor. He laughed. "Ha! Gotcha!"
"I'm going to rip your stupid Chudley Cannons shirt to shreds!" I shrieked.
Ron gasped and defended his favorite burnt orange tee. "Don't you dare!"
"Huh. I thought so."
I sort of have a crush on Ron's best friend, who happens to be Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived. But if I told him, I'd never live it down.
Yes, my brothers can be crazy and clumsy, but I still love them. I'll try to be the best little sister for their sake.