My head bangs against the bedside cupboard as I tumble to the ground, taking with me the multitude of blankets I wrapped myself in last night to fight the cold–not that it was any help–winters in the capital city of Bisari are a horrid affair, and in typical Nan family tradition, the electricity ran out two days ago. 

Every month, the cost of living goes up, and we can’t keep up, so we tough out the last week of each month without electricity. Besides, who needs a warm house when they have a little sister to blast them awake with a whistle horn every morning, all that sibling warmth is enough to keep the shivers at bay. 

“Minnie! Turn it off!” I groan, holding the side of my head.

“Pa said to wake you up.”

“Are you crazy! Get out! Get out of my room!” I continue wriggling about on the floor. I have a Ph.D. in wrapping blankets it seems. I managed to wrap myself in more layers than an onion.

Minnie turns on the whistle horn again, laughing. Ugh. So evil. Swearing and cursing about, I gasp an air of relief when I am free of the blankets, then rush over to where she stands, laughing in her purple and white uniform, so I can wrestle the whistle horn out of her hand. 

The thing is, Minnie is a junior league basketball ball champion and a two-time volleyball gold medalist. At just sixteen, she is all muscle and height, while I am a measly five foot four at twenty-three. My sister never misses a chance to use the advantages of her height against me. While I’m jumping and scrambling here and there to reach the horn, she stands, laughing with one hand up, almost touching the ceiling.

“Minnie! You'll be late for school, come eat now!” Pa screams from downstairs. 

I fall to the ground in yet another failed attempt, landing on my hips with a groan and she stops laughing. Her round cute face now wears a look of concern. “Are you okay?”

I wince, ignoring her question as I get back up, my hand on my waist like I am older than my forty-seven-year-old Pa.

“Are you okay? Are you angry?” Minnie worries. Yeah, my big troublesome sister is as soft as they come underneath all that height and muscle, and you wouldn’t have to dig too deep to find that side of her. 

“Minnie… go to school," I wave her off, limping back to bed. I pull the blanket over my body, too exhausted from last night's five-hour delivery shift.

“The alarm on your phone kept going off and you weren't waking up, I thought you had something important to do, you should be thanking me, eh!” She hisses and the room goes silent. For a few minutes, I think she is gone. 

Scratching and stretching I turn my back to the window, facing the door, and she is standing by it with a pout. I sigh, then smile. "Minnie, I’m not angry. Go to school.”

“Are you sure?”

I open my arms for a hug and she runs into it. We giggle as her short shampoo-scented hair pokes me in the nose. I know what is coming next, she does it all the time when we hug, so I brace myself. A loud laughter erupts through me when she starts tickling me, I don’t try to tickle her back, it makes her happy.

“Minnie! Come and eat! You will be late!” Pa calls once again from downstairs.

“Coming Pa!” She ruffles my hair, blows the horn one more time, and hurries out the door, her footsteps happily stomping down the wooden steps. 

I exhale a laugh, because as troublesome as she is, nothing brings me greater joy than seeing my sister all giddy. 

It’s finally quiet enough for me to take in the delicate winter morning sun, streaming in from my window. I remain calm and quiet, listening to my breathing, the chirping birds, and the subtle chatter from Mr. and Mrs. Olga next door, they argue every morning, it's routine. Today is going to be a good day, I decide, my smile shrinking as sleep comes, when suddenly, it hits me.

“Shit!” I exclaim, jerking up from my bed. "Shit shit shit!” Once again I’m fumbling out of my blankets. The alarm I set! Pete’s fan meet tickets go live at 7 am!

I snatch my phone off the wooden study table, but it doesn’t come on, battery dead! The alarm must have gone on for a long time. Shit! In a flash, I sprint to the sitting room where I abandoned my laptop last night after Flower Boys aired. This season is terrible, none of the drag queens are cutting it, but I’m a loyal fan, so I sacrificed half my battery life watching instead of updating Pete’s fan blog.

It takes forever to power on my laptop, and the second it does, I lunge at the buttons, slamming my fingers into them. Impatiently, I stare at the screen, pulling my hair back as the ticket website loads. Every second feels like a decade. It finally loads up and I squeal at those two horrifying words: SOLD OUT, written in bold black letters as if to attack me for being late.

It's only 7:45! I let out a muffled scream at my laptop. I want to smash it against the wall, but Pa saved up to buy one for the house and he would murder me in cold blood if I dared. Instead, I squeeze it by the side, shaking it as if we are both vibrating, my mind going berserk as my face burns. 

Three months! For three months I have worked and toiled, dreaming of this particular moment. Taking extra shifts at the retail shore, and picking up night shifts with the delivery company. All for this single moment. The moment I finally get a chance to meet my idol, the man whose posters have graced my wall since his debut when I was fifteen. And I just lost my chance because of… sleep? Sleep? I fall to the ground, stomping my feet against the wooden falls as I shake.

“Are you a pig?" Pa asks in a calm, but stern tone.

I quit wriggling and look up. He and Minnie are staring down at me with the utmost look of disgust. I didn't notice them sitting at the center table this whole time, having breakfast.

“Pa!” I wail, moving to my knees and crawling up to him.”Pa!” I curl up beside him, wrapping my arms around him “The tickets are sold out!” With a fake cry, I rest my head on his shoulder.

“Ya! Aren’t you going to move!” Pa complains and I shake my head.

“Luke, don't you have anything better to do, being a fanboy isn't a job you know?" Minnie says, licking her spoon.

“Shh! Put that food down and go to school! You’ve had enough,” Pa warns.

“But Pa…” Minnie tries to protest. 

Pa begins moving the plates away from her, and she rushes more food, stuffing more and more rice into her mouth, trying to get them all in at once.

Pa takes off his slippers to throw at her and she springs up from the floor, immediately rushing to the entrance with her signature devious laugh. Pa continues to mumble something about how we would give him a heart attack and I move around the table to eat, catching a glimpse of Minnie struggling to wear her shoes while swallowing all that food. I go to her instead.

“Let me do it,” I offer. 

Sitting on the floor, I reach for her shoe and slip them onto her feet, then begin with the shoelaces. She sniffles and tries to thank me, but all I hear are chewing sounds. 

When I reach for the left shoe, I take notice of the ripped sole, this leads me to further examine her shoes and I find so many places torn and patched together with a thread, then covered with black ink from a marker.

“Minnie, what happened to your yellow shoes?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the shoes in my hand.

“Oh… I don’t like it anymore.” 

That is a lie. I pretty much raised Minnie myself after Ma died. I know her more than I know myself.