Brother 4 Sale

By Kathy Murray

“No, Diego, not now!” Felipe yelled as he bolted through the front door, his five-foot frame followed by a three-foot shadow. “I said later!”

“What about tag? Wanna play tag?” his four-year-old brother persisted, tugging on Felipe’s pant leg.

“Mom!” Felipe groaned, “Help.”

Their mother looked up from the television and smiled in sympathy.

“Diego, come watch TV with me,” she coaxed. “ Maybe we can have some ice cream.” Diego settled happily on the sofa to watch cartoons and Mom turned to her frustrated older son.

“Mom, I’m nearly twelve…” began Felipe.

“I know how old you are,” his mother interrupted, smiling, “ I was there when you were born, remember?”

Felipe rolled his blue eyes at the ceiling and continued, “None of my friends have their little brothers tagging after them.” He crossed his arms. “It’s embarrassing.” Felipe knew this really wasn’t fair; none of his friends even had little brothers. But it still bothered him.

“I know it’s hard having him tag along.” Mom reached out to ruffle Felipe’s light brown hair, but he ducked away. “But with your Dad away….” She paused.

Felipe shuffled uncomfortably. They had only lived here for a month before Dad’s ship had left for sea again. He’d been gone now for two months and Diego seemed to miss him the most. Dad had piggybacked him, helped him build racecar tracks in the dirt, and taught him to swim, just as he had for Felipe. When he left, he’d asked Felipe to take care of Diego.

“Besides,” Mom continued, “he’s the only…”

“...Only brother I’ve got, “ Felipe finished sourly. “Thank goodness,” he muttered under his breath as he headed for the safety of his bedroom.

He flopped into a chair, pushed the hair out of his eyes, and began crumpling the old papers and candy wrappers covering his desk. Little brothers, what a pain! He couldn’t go anywhere without Diego sticking like glue. He picked up a battered “Garage Sale” notice, crunched it into a ball, and lobbed a shot at the wastebasket, missing by a wide margin.

“Too bad you can’t sell brothers,” he muttered.

Felipe pulled a sheet of notebook paper from the pile on his desk, and scrawled “Brother 4 Sale” boldly across the top. “ Only One Owner,” he jotted underneath, then paused to consider some other selling points. Diego never seemed to stop talking, but that wasn’t exactly a good thing. On TV commercials they always used big words to make bad things sound good. He thought for a moment. How do you make non-stop talking sound like an asset? Felipe grinned and wrote “Unlimited Supply of Questions Included,” followed by “Almost Impossible to Lose,” and “Impervious to Insults.”

In fact, Diego was like a piece of gum stuck to your shoe. Since summer vacation had started, he’d followed Felipe everywhere, constantly asking questions and suggesting games for them to play together. This morning alone, Felipe had played hide and seek, helped Diego catch a frog, answered numerous questions about clouds, and given four piggybacks. He was exhausted, but Diego was still full of energy and smiling.

Diego’s always smiling , thought Felipe, picturing his brother’s gap-toothed grin. He added another item to his advertisement, “One Missing Tooth—Replacement Guaranteed.” Felipe smiled to himself, thinking of the wide-eyed look on Diego’s face when Felipe had told him the Tooth Fairy sold teeth to God so they could be recycled. Diego never questioned any of Felipe’s answers to his multitude of questions. He just got that look of open-mouthed wonder. It was kind of cute, really.

Now he could hear Diego’s voice bugging Mom for a sandwich. “Fueled by Peanut Butter and Apple Juice,” he added to his list, then, hearing Mom tell Diego to wash his hands, “Water Resistant.” Finally, in bold letters across the bottom, he wrote, “Call Today—Only One Model in Stock!”

He paused to consider that last item. Diego really was one of a kind: a pest sometimes, but sort of a cute pest. And it was really kind of flattering the way Diego believed everything Felipe said and wanted to do everything he did.

Felipe’s bedroom door suddenly rattled.

“Knock, knock,” he heard Diego call uncertainly.

“Who’s there?” Felipe replied automatically.

“Me,” a small voice replied.

“Me, who?” Felipe said, smiling.

The bedroom door opened and Diego’s peanut butter-smeared face appeared around the corner. “Me! Diego!” his brother said, a puzzled look on his face. “ It’s later.”

“Yes, it’s later,” Felipe agreed.

“Wanna play catch?” Diego coaxed.

“OK, Squirt,” Felipe smiled, “Go wash your face. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Diego darted off. Felipe picked up his advertisement and scrawled broadly across the paper, “NO SALE!” then laughed and shook his head as he dropped it in the wastebasket.