She gazed at me from across the room where she sat. Her short, straight hair is caressed by her shoulders. Her eyes smiling, her body shaking with excitement. I can’t quite put my finger on it though. Is she hyper or is she just read for the thrill.
She looked over at the teacher, which was ready to speak. The teacher gazed at me and smiled which warmed me to the core. The teacher spoke calling her name to go.
Her eyes lit like a flam to dynamite. She read aloud, stuttering because of nervousness, and rubbing her hands together like the little twit she was. I loved her voice, although it sounded nothing like we thought it would. A jersey twang, though we lived a ways away and had never been there. She ended with her voice escalating, her eyes sparkling and her mouth moving in big movements.
Her eyes looked worried and bereaved as she walked down the aisle, probably because she didn’t have many lines. I looked at her and smiled. Instead of walking to her seat she ran to me, making a scene which I could have avoided. Her eyes looked ready to pop (probably the dynamite) as she hugged me. Her little hands tightening around me, pulling on the fabric of my shirt. I felt my heart squeeze as she smuggled a small kiss out of me in front of my friends. Thank god, it was only on the cheek. I pulled her to my lap as we watched the rest of the performance. Her hands gipped my sides, her cheeks red and warm.

Her eyes were wild with hatred. Her smile, evil, cunning, twisted and displaced across her face. Her laugh, pure evil, shattered my thoughts. My whole conversation was blasted from my mind as I turned to see her wicked face writing on my wall. I screamed, it rang out like a bell, for my mom.
Though it was typical, I was told to do this. It never made her stop even if we tried to intimidate her.
My rage was just as equal as her anger. I stomped over to my wall pulling the pen from her hand. She cussed and swore; spit hitting my face as she yelled louder and louder. I grabbed for her, under her arms, picking her up. She yelled and cursed, fighting with all her will. Her legs hit my knees, which I had just bruised a little while ago, which sent me falling toward the ground. I looked up from my daze, her tongue colored green from a lollipop, was in my face. She spit and ran toward her room shutting the door to her sanctuary, her bedroom. I bolted, grasping for the doorknob, twisting and turning. I wasn’t going to lose. A hand hit my shoulder. Mom. She looked at me. I was betting she would be even madder at me for egging her on.
She was my little sister, the devil, an angel. Two different persons in one, but I loved her, just the way she was and is.