When I get home, I run upstairs to my room. I sit on my bed and take down the fish bowl that sits on my headboard. In it are hundreds of folded bits of paper, each paper the main focus of everyday since I was twelve. I get a new piece of paper and write, 'Francis shoved me. Saved mlby man in Honda Civic. February 29'. I fold the page and drop it in the bowl.

The door creaks open, and a furry, calico chihuahua wabbles in and hops on my lap. I stroke his fur.

"Hello, Soi Been." I greet the dog. His name is spelled that way on purpose. Soi Been barks his reply, and I smile and pet him more.

An annoying voice calls from the stairwell. "Soi Been! Where are you, buddy?"

Soi Been barks at his name, and my 14-year-old sister comes in.

"Ugh, Duckie!" she greets. I roll my eyes.

"I was hoping to not see you today, Woodie." I reply. She stamps her foot and grabs Soi Been.

"Stop stealing my dog."

I shrug. "He likes me better, though."

"And who told you that? The fish in your brain?" 

I toll my eyes. "Doesn't take fish to figure that out."

Woodie huffs. "Why are you so weird, Denver?"

"And how am I weird? In fact, I see myself as normal."

Woodie sets Soi Been on the ground and he scrurries off to the hall. "Normal people don't have imaginary fish in their head. Normal people can see a flirt from a mile away. Normal people don't steal their sisters' dogs!"

"I told you, he likes me better."

Woodie sucks in her cheeks. "This is why I don't like you, Denver."

"Deal with it, Woodcrater."

Woodie rolls her eyes. "I don't even trust you with Soi Been. You couldn't even take care of a goldfish because you had homework and we're too busy to feed it."

"I have better things to do than feed fish."

"Then you have better things to do than play with MY dog." 

And with that, Woodie slammed the door.