Chapter #3Ages 8, 9, and 10. by: Genipher   "He's not your real brother," Ashley tossed back her perfect, blond curls with a sneer, "He's adopted."
Owen crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes.
"I'm adopted too, Ashbin," Owen snapped, "Remember?"
He dropped his arms and slipped onto his bike. Ignoring Ashley's smoldering eyes, he peddled toward the front of the school to meet with his eight-year-old brother, Andrew. The younger boy was waiting, helmet in-hand, as Owen skid to a stop.
"Ready to party, Andy?" Owen grinned.
Andrew frowned and fumbled with the snap on his helmet. Owen shifted his eyes to the trees that stretched over Maple Elementary, resisting the urge to help. He'd learned long ago that Andrew was determined to do anything and everything that he could without assistance. Missing his right arm wasn't going to keep his little brother from being independent.
"I don't know..." Andrew sighed as the helmet finally cooperated and snapped into place, "I already have one annoying big brother. I don't know how I'm gonna handle two of you."
"Hardy, har, har," Owen smirked, "Saddle up and let's go. Mom'll freak if we're late to the welcoming party."
Owen gave Andrew a thirty-second head start, just like he did every school day. As he took off after Andrew he wondered if their new brother would enjoy the same game.
Owen grinned as Andrew glanced over his shoulder and saw him coming. He watched as Andrew's legs pumped faster in an attempt to stay in the lead. Owen laughed and leaned over his handlebars. Within seconds he was ahead of Andrew and moments later, he was braking in front of their garage.
"I'll get you next time!" Andrew panted as he pulled into the driveway.
"In your dreams!" Owen taunted, sticking out his tongue.
Andrew giggled, dropped his bike, and ran for the front door.
"Not cool, Andy!" Owen yelled.With a sigh he bent to pick up his brother's bike and park it in the garage.
Pushing open the front door, Owen was greeted with a giant Welcome! sign. Helium balloons of every color were tied to all the chairs, and Andrew sat munching a chocolate cupcake on the couch.
"I think we're supposed to wait for the guests to arrive before eating those." Owen warned his brother. Andrew ignored him and took another bite. Crumbs tumbled from his lips and chocolate frosting smeared across his nose.
Owen shrugged, "It's your funeral. And make no mistake," he thumped a blue balloon floating near his head, "Mom will kill you if you mess up this party by eating all the food..."
"She won't miss one out of a million." Andrew scoffed. At this, Owen had to agree. Their mom had gone a bit overboard with the cupcakes.
"I don't know what his favorite flavor is," she'd nervously laughed that morning before school, "so I made a dozen of every kind."
Owen picked up a lemon cupcake and tore off the paper wrapper.
"She probably wouldn't miss two, then, either." He ate half of the treat in one bite and was just about to polish off the rest when there was a knock at the door.
Stuffing the rest of the cupcake behind the foyer's only potted plant, he reached for the doorknob.
"Go wash up!" Owen hissed. The doorbell rang again as Andrew ran for the bathroom.
"This is just so excitin'!" a voice gushed as Owen threw open the front door. Smiling politely, Owen stepped aside so Uncle Richard and Aunt Marjorie could enter.
"Why," Aunt Marjorie continued, "I think there's more hullabaloo over your new brother joinin' the family than when you were adopted, Owen, dear."
Uncle Richard sighed and shared a look with Owen over Aunt Marjorie's head.
"Oooh, cupcakes!" Marjorie squealed. "That reminds me," she said as she licked raspberry frosting off her thumb, "I bought a jug of milk from Thriftgreens for the party. You can't have cake without milk, dear."
"But..."
"I got it on sale," Marjorie hissed in Owen's ear, "but don't tell your mama. She'll think I'm cheap."
Uncle Richard coughed and Aunt Marjorie glared at him.
"But..." Owen tried again.
"Be a good boy and get it from my car." Marjorie interrupted, handing him her keys.
"Yes, ma'am."
Owen stepped outside before slapping his forehead in frustration.
"But mama is lactose intolerant, he mumbled to himself.
On his way back to the house, milk jug in-hand, several more relatives showed up. Owen let them inside, stored the milk in the fridge, and watched the time slowly slip by.
"When's your mama going to get here?" Aunt Marjorie whined
"Should be soon, Auntie." Owen murmured. He crammed his clammy hands into his jean pockets. As the minutes crept by, he found he was becoming more and more anxious about meeting his new brother.
"Why, Owen, dear! You look positively green around the gills!" Aunt Marjorie gushed. She clucked her tongue in sympathy and reached for the fridge handle.
"I know what'll help, dear. A nice, warm glass of milk."
"I don't know..." Owen started to protest. Aunt Marjorie ignored him and opened a cupboard.
"Hm," she grunted, "Well, I have no idea where your mama keeps her pans--"
"They're next to the--"
"--so I'll just pour you a nice, cold cup. It'll be just as good." Marjorie insisted.
"--stove." Owen muttered.
Andrew burst into the kitchen as Aunt Marjorie poured the milk into a glass.
"He's here! He's here!" Andrew yelled.
"I'll just grab a cup of milk for him, too." Marjorie smiled. "Don't forget yours, Andrew, dear."
Andrew snatched the glass, spilling half its contents on the kitchen floor before tearing off to greet their new brother.
"Oh, my!" Marjorie gushed. Her hands fluttered like frightened birds.
Owen groaned. "I've got it, Auntie." He grabbed a roll of paper towels and started mopping up the mess.
He was on his knees when he bumped into a pair of brown loafers. Glancing up, he met the amused eyes of a boy.
"Liam?" Owen questioned.
The boy grinned, his teeth bright against the backdrop of his beautiful, dark skin.
"I am here at last, brother." Liam said with a nod.
Andrew bounced to their sides, cup sloshing, as Owen stood. He noted that, at ten-years-old, he wasn't much taller than nine-year-old Liam.
"Is that milk?" Liam asked.
Andrew looked into his near-empty cup and nodded.
"Well, then," Liam flashed another contagious grin," "let us all have a glass and toast to our new brotherhood."
Owen picked up his cup of milk and Liam took a full glass from an unusually silent Aunt Marjorie.
"To brothers!" Liam toasted.
"To brothers!" Owen and Andrew repeated.
The three boys clinked glasses, brought the cups to their lips, and drank.
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