My Valentine

Little brothers can be a real nuisance sometimes.

Take mine for instance.

Josiah is eight years old. 11 years younger than me.

Whenever I come home from school, he's up my ass.

I swear.

He's always doing some strange TikTok dances or shouting out random memes. He rummages through my room looking for spare change or my phone charger for his iPad and he's constantly asking me for something.

To drive him and his little friends to the trampoline park, DoorDash him food, buy him V-Bucks or Robucks or whatever video game currency he's in need of, scour the Earth for Pokémon packs.

ANY AND EVERYTHING.

I don't hold it against him much.

His dad is MIA.

Mine drifts in and out just enough to remind me he exists ever since he completed paying child support.

And mom...

Well, she's a little out of touch.

And by out of touch, I mean she's either working to support me going to school or AWOL at home smoking weed in the attic.

I don't hold it against her. She's doing her best by me.

But Josiah...

He's a bit neglected because of it.

And that's why I take it upon myself to care for him whenever I can. Despite how annoying he can be.

I left campus to come home and do laundry, hoping he would be out with his friends. But when I stumbled through the door with my trash bag full of dirty clothes, I was halted in the foyer by a sight I rarely see in my life.

Josiah crying on the couch in the living room.

My heart sank in my chest and I sighed, running a million different scenarios through my head.

Trouble at school? Trouble with friends? Lost a bet over a video game? Maybe mom grounded him for something? Thoughts about his dad?

I decided not to waste more time trying to figure out the problem and approached with caution.

"Hey..." I smiled gently, "I'm home."

"What's up, Joelle," his voice quivered a bit but he wiped his eyes fast, like he didn't want me to see.

"What's going on?" I knelt in front of him and rested a hand on the couch. "Did you and mom get into it?"

"No," he sniffled. "Chase Drago."

My face twisted up and I pinched the bridge of my nose.

Not that little shit again.

"I thought I told you to stay away from that kid. He's not your friend," I shook my head.

Chase Drago is one of the biggest bullies in the school district. A 9 year old who should be in the fourth grade but was held back to repeat third.

I heard it wasn't even because of academics.

Just pure disrespect and behavioral issues.

Josiah remained silent on the couch and I rose to my feet, folding my arms.

"What happened?"

Josiah threw his arms open and started waving them around frantically as he explained.

"We were playing football at recess and Chase started talking about how his dad has him training under some old NFL player and he thinks he's gonna be the best one at football camp!"

"Okay..." I rolled my eyes.

"I got so sick of him always talking about how rich his family is and how he thinks that because they have money, that he's the best at everything! He fumbles almost every pass!"

"Okay..." I tried to put on a caring voice because my face was not carrying that emotion.

"And then I said that I would get the rest of the boys an even better trainer than some washed up football player that played for the Broncos for three seasons!"

"Right," I nodded. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

He shrugged, defeated.

"Why do you run your mouth so recklessly?" I sighed.

That's when Josiah finally looked up at me but he couldn't hold eye contact.

"Well," he smiled weakly (and I knew where he was going with this). "I was hoping you—"

"NO!" I interjected. "Absolutely not, Josiah! I don't have money to hire you a football trainer! You're eight years old. Come back to me when you get to high school and maybe I'll have some money saved away for stuff like that."

"But couldn't you just—"

"Nope!"

"But I—"

"Nope!"

I remained firm in my conviction. Those little brown doe eyes and innocent looking face were not going to have me squandering what little money I had saved on a football trainer for a bunch of third graders.

"Joelle!" He groaned.

"Josiah!" I mocked his tone back. "Do you think we're made of money like the Drago's? Look at this house? Mom and I can barely conjure up the money for a new dishwasher. The back porch is disintegrating. You need new clothes for the summer and I'd actually like to go to the beach one weekend. We can't swing it, kid. I'm sorry..."

Josiah looked me over, probably calculating a new manipulation tactic.

"Yeah," he nodded. "But you go to Mifflin!"

Here we go...

Whenever he wants something, he brings up the fact that we have no money because I go to a fancy college and basically infers we struggle because of me.

Little does he know, we struggled well before his little butt came along.

"What about it, Josiah? This is all my fault because you made promises you couldn't keep?"

He shook his head.

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

He smiled.

"Bryce Valentine..."

"Bryce Valentine??"

If he's talking about who I thinks he's talking about, I can already see where he's taking this next.

"Yeah!" Josiah grins. "He goes to your school! You can ask him to train us. He's the number one pick in the country! I bet if you asked nicely—"

"Slow down," I laughed. "You think that because I go to school with this guy, I can convince him to run some sort of training camp for you and your little friends."

Josiah nodded his head with a lot more gumption than I knew he was capable of.

"Josiah," I gave him a flat look. "College is not like elementary school. I don't go to class with him. We definitely don't run in the same circles. I've only ever seen the guy from a distance and that was from the nosebleeds of the football stadium. It's not going to happen."

Josiah folded his arms with a little huff and stared me down.

"You could at least try," he grumbled.

"Try what? You just want me to walk up to Bryce and say 'hey, my little brother's a huge fan. Can you train him for free?' Yeah, let's see how that goes."

Josiah rose for the couch and poked me with his little finger. I scoffed at the audacity.

"You won't even try!"

"Try how?" I shoved him back.

"Just write him a message and ask! It's not that hard! I write to Druski and Ishowspeed all the time!"

I couldn't hold back the laugh that escaped me.

"And do they ever respond?"

"No!" Josiah admitted. "But at least I try!"

This little shit really thinks he's going to be a streamer one day…

"Hey—" I pointed at him. "How are you even writing to these people? You're not allowed to have social media!"

Josiah just rolled his eyes, before bringing me back to the topic at hand.

"Write him!" He demanded.

"No!"

Josiah groaned and pushed past me, not hiding anything under his breath.

"You're the worst sister ever!"

I shook my head.

"You're gonna think a lot worse of me when I tell mom to lock up that stupid iPad!"

Eight year old kid writing to grown ass men on the internet.

Do you understand what happens in this house when I'm not around?