Why does this stuff always happen to me, I think from under the bedcovers. I’m definitely never going to speak to my brother T again, I promise myself. I may never speak to anybody again. I’m nine years old and my life is ruined. That thing was better when it was in the box and unseen.
The box had arrived a week before Christmas. It was huge. It stayed downstairs until Dad came home from work and he and T carried it into the dining room. It had my name on it and big letters DO NOT OPEN UNTIL CHRISTMAS. It’s from Grandpa my Dad said and my Mom sighed like she does when D, my little brother, wets his pants. “I hope it’s a bike,” I said as I walked around it.
The next day after school while Mom was taking D for a walk in his carriage, I inspected the box more closely. There was a tiny hole in the middle. of one of the sides. I could barely get my finger in; but when I did I could wiggle the hole bigger. I found my Dad’s flashlight and shined the light into the hole. I saw a white grip just like bicycles have on the handlebars. “It’s a bike I yelled” and ran to tell T who was weight lifting in our bedroom like he always did after school. “So what” he said grunting between lifts. Jealous, I thought to myself.
T mentioned the bike at dinner that night and Mom just looked at Dad. Later I heard her say something like bike in a city for a nine year old and Grandpa. Dad said something from behind the paper and she went back to the dishes shaking her head. Dad used his ducktape to close the hole and told me do not open means do not look inside too.
Finally it’s Christmas and T and I woke Mom and Dad at 7:30 to open presents. Dad had his sharp knife ready and he and I went right for the big box. Inside was not a bike. It had four wheels and a seat and a handle with two white grips on it just like a bicycle handlebar. This bar, my Dad showed me is meant to be pulled back and forward to make the bike move. Your feet turn the front wheels. It was big; it was red and it was the stupidest thing I ever .saw. “I can’t ride this,” I said “it looks stupid”. T laughed. My Mom said I don’t have to ride it but I do have to thank Grandpa when he comes for dinner. “Grandpa was stupid for buying me this,” I replied. That’s what got me the ten minute timeout.
“Ttimes up,” my brother says from the door, “you have more presents and later I’ll help carry your red thing downstairs and we’ll check it out, okay?” “Sure” I said leaping out of bed and charging back to the tree. “It’s Christmas!”
kongoboken 