Strand 1

Tugging the covers over my head, I squashed my eyes shut, trying to get to sleep as quickly as possible, if only to escape from the room where I lay in a bed only three feet from the most despised person I could think of just then- my brother Mike. After today, I thought to myself, I've earned the right to hate him. After all, was it not his fault that we were already in bed, despite the glaring sunlight brutally pushing its way through the worn curtains that hung across the windows over our heads? If he hadn't been such a pest, taking the ball when I was playing a game of basketball with my friends, we wouldn't have gotten in trouble for fighting, right?

With the blankets still over my eyes, I reached out, fumbling around for a tape, and put it in the player, feeling for the triangular play button. Finally, I was able to drift off to Mozart, gaining special enjoyment from the knowledge that, though he hated my classical music, my brother didn't dare risk mom's wrath further by venturing downstairs to complain to her.

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