First Person: Jenna

“Did you like it?” I sneaked a glance at Thomas, but he was buried in the business section of the paper. My brother was such a square.

His next words stung. “Not at all.”

I took a deep breath to stop myself from beating him over the head with the nearest cooking implement.

Matthew was hardly any help. “Really? I thought it was at least halfway decent.”

“Halfway decent?” I supposed that was precisely the support I should expect from my not-really-boyfriend. “That’s not really flattering.”

Matthew arched an eyebrow. “Were you asking for flattery? Because last night you insisted on a whole lot of honesty --”

His eyes gleamed wickedly, and I knew immediately what he meant. “I wasn’t talking about last night, and you know it!” I flung a tea towel at him, but he caught in mid-air. Damn his reflexes. He had good hands. But there was no way I’d let him tell Thomas, my brother, that I’d been making out with his best friend last night.

“Did I really? Because all I heard was a question, ‘did you like it?’ And judging by your tone, you wanted honesty --” Matthew started, and I could see discomfort in the line of his shoulders. He was so insecure sometimes.

Then Thomas broke in with a, “Now, now, children.” He sounded so much like Father, buried in the newspaper just like Father. He had no clue what I’d asked him about. Figured.

“Don’t even start with the children. Please. Not this morning.” Gina looked pretty wrecked, but I was hardly sympathetic after her antics with the Schnapps. “I never want to see another human being under the age of fourteen for the rest of my life.”

Given how much she’d drunk the night before, I was pretty impressed that she’d made it out of bed so early. I wanted to kick her, sometimes, because even wrecked she was ten times as pretty as me.

Thomas actually looked at her instead of the paper. “Don’t you teach first grade?” He was so in love with her and didn’t even know it. What made it worse was that Gina loved him right back. I wondered how we’d ended up in this bizarre tango, Gina in love with my brother and me in love with hers and neither of them understanding a thing.

Matthew patted her shoulder. “A little hung over, are we?” I glared at him. He was about as nice to her as Thomas was to me.

“Not so hung over I can’t pound you into the ground,” Gina said. I winced; I knew that sound, and that meant danger.

“I’d like to see that.” Matthew drew himself up to his full height, which was impressive, but he was a skinny runt, and we all knew it.

I loved him anyway. I smiled and said, “So would I.”

(479 words)