(In the future)
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He leaned against the doorway and smirked at his sister. "So you got to go to work this morning? Boy that's rough."
"What do you want, Hank?" Christine combed her hair and made sure everything was in place while she looked at the mirror over her dresser. "Why aren't you playing or reading or whatever it is you do?"
His smirk now wider, Hank crossed his arms against his thin chest. "I'm going to play video games all day. I don't have to work, so I get to stay home and have fun all day."
Irritated, Christine turned and gave her little brother a baleful look. "I work so I can have extra spending money you little toad."
Hank snorted and shook his head. "Dad gives me an allowance so I don't have to work. I get to do what I want."
Her tongue now in her cheek, her eyes mere slits, Christine quickly grabbed a pillow from her bed and threw it at her brother who quickly jumped back into the hallway. His hands on his hips, Hank shook his head. "Ha . . . better watch your temper, Christine. Mom told you to be nicer to me."
Calmly, Christine walked over to the doorway, leaned in the hallway and picked up the pillow. "I am being nice to you. I could have easily smothered you with this pillow and . . ."
"Christine!" Booth stood in the doorway of his bedroom and glared at his daughter. "That is not the way to talk to your brother. We do not threaten people in this house."
Embarrassed, Christine turned to face her father. "He started it, Dad. He . . ."
"Christine." He'd overheard Hank taunting his sister, so he knew why she was upset. "Honey, you're sixteen years old. Please act like it."
Gleefully, Hank stuck his tongue out at his sister.
"Hank!" Booth moved down the hallway and placed his hand on his youngest child's shoulder. "Go eat breakfast."
He knew he'd gone a little too far, so Hank ran down the hallway to the kitchen to escape his father's glaring look.
Once the boy was out of sight, Booth sighed and turned his attention towards his daughter. "Christine, he's just eleven. Don't let him get to you."
"He's terrible, Dad." Frustrated, Christine stomped over to where her orange store smock was laying, picked it up along with her purse and moved back towards the doorway. "He's the baby of the family and he thinks he can get away with anything and he does."
When she exited the bedroom, Booth placed his arm around her shoulders. "Hey, I had a little brother too, remember. Jared drove me nuts when we were kids and when we were adults, but I learned to ignore him . . . well most of the time. Hank bugs you because he knows he can. You have to just let his words slide off of you."
Christine sighed and nodded her head. "I still miss Uncle Jared. He was nice to me. I still have the doll he gave me the Christmas before he died."
Even though Jared had avoided Booth most of the time the last few years of his life, the man had shown up the day before Christmas the last year of his life with a present for Christine and Hank. Booth had been shocked at the gesture, but had been grateful for his brother's kindness. If only he'd known that was the last holiday for Jared. Maybe he should have done more for his brother, but that was in the past and he couldn't do anything to fix it now. "Yeah, I miss him too. He was a pain in the butt, but he was my brother . . . just like Hank is your brother. Try to be patient, Pumpkin, please? You never know what the future will bring."
"I'll try." Christine entered the kitchen, grabbed a cereal box from the counter and found it empty. Glaring at Hank who was holding a bowl full of cereal against his chest, Christine slammed the box back onto the counter. "Dad, he has the last of my favorite cereal."
As Booth entered the kitchen, he slowly blew air out between his lips, he glanced at the ceiling and prayed for patience for himself.
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Two days later and the weekend was over, Hank woke up and found his sister in the kitchen eating breakfast. "Hey." Grabbing the box of his favorite cereal, Hank found a few crumbs in the bottom of the box and looked at his sister with a look of shock. Her bowl half filled with the remains of his cereal, the boy spluttered. "You . . . you hate Rocket Pockets . . . why are you eating Rocket Pockets?"
A slight smile on her lips, the teenager scooped up some of the cereal and stared at it. "I think it's horribly sweet, but you ate the last of my favorite cereal and this is all we have besides the tree branches and twigs that Mom is always trying to get us to eat. She's going shopping this evening, so it was this or scrambling some eggs and I didn't feel like it . . . maybe the next time you'll leave my cereal alone. If you hadn't eat my cereal you'd still have yours."
The boy stared at his bowl and shook his head. "What I'm supposed to eat?"
Christine pointed over her shoulder. "Eat some toast or Mom's twig cereal."
Hungry and frustrated, Hank pushed his lower lip out and pouted. "All we have is wheat bread. Dad ate the last of the good bread last night . . . I'm sorry, Christine. I won't eat your cereal again. Please don't eat my cereal anymore."
Feeling guilty, Christine sighed and swallowed her bite of cereal. "Do you want this bowl of cereal? I can make toast for myself."
Surprised at her offer, Hank held his hand out. "Thank you." After the bowl was in his hands, the boy started to eat. "What are you going to do today?"
A rather smug look on her face, Christine reached into the pocket in her jeans, pulled out a folded piece of paper, unfolded it and handed it to the boy. "Well, since I can't go anywhere until Mom or Dad come home, I'm going to mow the lawn and once that's done, I'm going to read. Dad told me to give you this list when you wake up."
Curious, the boy took the piece of paper from his sister and started to read it. As he read it, his face became pale. "Hey, this isn't fair. It's Summer Break. I'm on vacation."
Amused at the expression on her brother's face, Christine chuckled. "He told me it's time you started doing chores around here . . . You know he overheard you bragging to me about not working . . . a big mistake little brother . . . a really big mistake."
This list included vacuuming the carpets and floor, dusting the furniture and cleaning the bathrooms. "I'm a kid. I don't know how to vacuum or clean the bathrooms."
"I'll show you before I mow the lawn." Christine popped some bread into the toaster and pulled out the jam from the fridge. "Mom taught me how to do that when I was ten. It's easy . . . If Mom doesn't have time to shop tonight I'll get her to give me some money and we'll walk to the store tomorrow and buy some essentials like cereal."
His bowl of cereal finished, Hank stared at Christine as she slathered some jam on her toast. "I'm still hungry."
Resigned, she popped more bread in the toaster and gave her jam covered toast to her brother. "Here, I'm not making eggs, so it's toast or nothing."
Grateful, the boy took the toast and smiled. "Thank you. The next time you make eggs, would you show me how?"
"Sure." Christine leaned against the counter and waited for her toast to pop up. "Dad left me some money, so we can order take-out for lunch."
Surprised, Hank threw his fist in the air. "Oh Boy. Can we have pizza?"
Her toast ready, Christine grabbed it and spread some jam on it. "Sure why not. As long as you do your chores first. You can play video games this afternoon."
Hank munched on his toast, his eyes on his sister. "Thank you Chrissy. I'm sorry I made fun of you about your job."
"That's alright." Christine sat down at the counter and ruffled the boy's hair. "It's what little brothers do."
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