"I don't see why Dad couldn't drive you. Wasn't like he was doing anything at the time, anyway. Just sits in his Goddamned room and reads all morning. Not like I had work to do."
Joshua is sitting quietly in the passenger seat of their parents' old pick-up truck gazing blankly out of the window. His older brother's incessant grumblings aren't easy to ignore and he tries to hide his obvious frown by resting his chin on the arm he has propped up on the door.
A loud honk followed by the squealing of tires and his brother's angry shouting leaves him sighing, and he watches the fog from his breath smudge the window with disinterest.
"That stupid son of a..."
Josh rolls his eyes. His sixteen-year-old brother had just acquired his driver's license a little over a week ago and was already infected with an unhealthy amount of road-rage. It's not much of a surprise. Alex usually spends most of his time being the one getting criticized and yelled at, now it was his turn to dish out some criticism of his own.
The ten-year-old isn't the least bit worried, though. He knows that Alex is going to get him to Joey's house on time and in one piece because, while angry and pubescent he may be, unreliable and irresponsible he is not.
But even Josh has his limits when it comes to his brother's moods and right now all he wants is for Alex to shut the hell up and get him to Joey's.
Frowning, the younger boy sits up and turns to look at Alex, catching the quick flicker of his brother's eyes as he takes notice of the movement before going back to watch the road. It's obvious that Alex doesn't want to talk to him right now. His mouth is pulled into a scowl and he's glaring daggers at him from the rear-view mirror that say, "Speak, and I will hit that tree."
Those knives don't scare Josh in the slightest.
"Would you just shut up already?"
For a split second he swears that Alex looks slightly shocked, but that quickly dissipates and the older boy tuns to him with fire in his eyes.
"Excuse me?"
The snarl isn't enough to faze Josh, he's too annoyed with his older brother's aggravating behaviour to be afraid.
"You heard me," he says, gaze never wavering, "would you just chill? Geez, Dad just told you to take me to Joey's and you're making it sound like the end of the world."
Alex's anger has glued his gaze to Josh's face and he has to physically tear his eyes away and look back at the road. Knuckles whiten as he grips the steering wheel tightly, left leg bouncing impatiently. "How the fuck would you know?" He says, and with a sneer, adds, "Since when do you ever have to do anything, huh? Tell me. When was the last time dad's ever ordered you to clean something up, or do chores? When was the last time you got yelled at for something you didn't do and punished for it without being asked why?"
Josh's mouth is slightly agape, opening and closing like a gasping fish as he tries to think of something to say, and he's suddenly not so sure if he's brave enough to face his brother's teeth. His voice is too cold, too condescending; he feels as if driving the truck is the only thing keeping Alex from grabbing him by the neck.
Alex snorts, attention once again drawn back to the task of keeping them on the road. The look of anger never leaves his face, though, and Josh swallows once before pressing himself up against the door.
The rest of the drive is spent in an uncomfortable silence with Alex throwing curses at every driver who finds a way to tick him off and Josh trying to make himself as small as possible against the passenger side door.
...