Chapter 10
- 5 Points
Chapter 10
My younger brother swaggered into the store with a gang of hooligans, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, spewing profanity.
When he noticed it was me behind the counter, his first instinct was to threaten me, warning that if I told our parents, he’d beat me up.
After all, he always played the role of the perfect
son in front of them.
I had no intention of tattling, but he turned around and reported the store owner for illegal employment practices.
This resulted in the relevant authorities fining the owner $15,000, causing the shop to shut
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down for rectification, leaving the employees, including the older sister–like staff members,
out of work.
Even though they insisted it wasn’t my fault, I couldn’t deny the fact that I was involved in
their misfortune.
Fairy tales often end suddenly.
In a far–off place, while the prince and princess live happily ever after, what happens to the little guys?
They struggle to survive.
I placed my entire salary since starting work-
a little over $1,000–on the counter and quietly left.
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Though it wasn’t enough to cover the owner’s. fine, it was all I had.
With only a hundred bucks left, I decided to send that back to my parents in a letter.
Sure enough, they interpreted it as a rebellious act, eager to teach me a lesson.
Life’s lessons have been harsh enough, and
even those closest to me seem to wish me ill.
I’m so tired. Maybe I won’t be back in the next
life.
My soul didn’t find peace; it continued to drift. back and forth with this family.
My brother never became the good student my parents hoped for, and soon he was in trouble.
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He regularly stole money from our parents, spent lavishly, and got involved in gang fights.
In the name of brotherhood, he cracked
someone over the head.
He didn’t come out unscathed, ending up with his arm in a sling.
Since he started the fight, my parents ended up paying compensation.
In the hospital, faced with my parents‘ scolding, my brother half–reclined on the bed, animated.
“What do you know? In this life, you’ve got to stick with your brothers to get anywhere.”
Before Dad could retort, the door was kicked
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open.
A punk strutted in, clad in loafers, with bleached hair, and tight pants, heading toward Sol.
With a swagger, he had a briefcase at his side, speaking in a streetwise tone.
“How’s Sol? Once you’re better, we’ll go beat him up again!”
“Oh, and Sol,” rubbing his nose, “the guys are grabbing food and came up short. Can you spot
us?”
My brother frantically signaled with his eyes, trying to indicate that our parents were present.
