I’ve been asking for my own place for ages now. I think it’s time I got a pad where I can think thoughts, fight injustices and play Fortnite in peace. In a perfect world, this place would be a cross between the Bat Cave and the Avengers HQ. But this isn’t a perfect world, because — hello — I still have another six years of school to go to, even though I have made some really good arguments about why I shouldn’t have to go. (Examples: It’s boring. It’s boring. It’s boring.) So obviously, the chances of me having my own BatVengers Cave (No? Not a good name? Sounds like an anti bat group?) are zero.
At loggerheads
So in this unperfect (or is it imperfect?) world, I have to share a room with my Pesky Brother. It’s hard to think thoughts, fight injustices and play Fortnite in peace, when the greatest injustice in the world is sitting next to you and being an intolerable presence in your life. Our parents say that sharing a room will bring me and PB closer, help us grow bonds or something. How is kicking, screaming and pulling each other’s hair going to help us bond?
Last week, PB left dirty underwear in my school bag. When I took my math homework out in class, guess what fell out?
He hogs our entire study table with his stuff, but if even ONE of my pens goes on to HIS side he takes it hostage and declares war. He locks my cupboard door and hides the keys. And when I’m trying to compose the next rock anthem on my piano, he sits right next to me and plays ‘baa baa black sheep’ on his guitar and sings it in weird voices (His fake British accent one is kind of funny though.) He uses up all the hot water in the shower and NEVER flushes the toilet. If my parents think that these things will make me love him more… they are kind of crazy.
So, for the last couple of weeks, I have slowly been moving my things in to our guest bedroom. I put a few of my books, Lego and secret code diaries in the cupboard and slink off to hang out there when PB gets too much. It’s been amazing. All that space to myself. All that silence. All my thoughts.
Umm… only I realised I don’t have as many thoughts as I thought I did. Plus, there’s not that much injustice in the world to fight when the biggest one of all is missing. And what’s the point of playing Fortnite if he’s not there to gloat about my victories to?
I’m not saying I like sharing a room with him. I’m just saying he has his uses. As long as I lock my school bag, I should be okay. Right?
