Relationships are bonds that cannot be shattered in any aspect. Some consider wife-and-husband relationships the strongest, while others may say that parent-and-child relationships are the tightest. Anyone who does not have siblings cannot nearly fathom the strength of the bonds between brothers. Brothers are the ones who always help one another, the ones who always fight the hardest with one another, yet the ones who love each other the most. The older brother always looks out and protects the younger brother. The younger brother always reminds the older brother what it is like to be a child, and how to love someone else. The bonds between brothers are strongest, so whenever something happens to a brother, the other brothers always feel the heaviest grief. As the reader can probably tell, this story is one of the stories of brothers and how they strive to get through life’s tragedies. My name is Mark Smith. This is the story of me and my little brother, David.

            To start, a little about both of us. I am Mark Smith, an academic achiever that struggles to speak to ladies and is not very social. I am sixteen years of age, just got a new car that I am currently paying off. Being that I have a part-time job that does not pay very well, I do not have very much money to throw around. Perhaps this is why ladies want nothing to do with me. Or maybe it is the fact that I simply am terrible at communication with the opposite sex. Regardless of reasons, I cannot connect with girls, so I have decided to not worry myself with them at the moment. This basically sums up my entire life up until now. The one most important thing I have left out is my family. I live at home with my mother, Patty Smith. She strains herself with work from the local bank. She has worked her way up to become the manager of the bank; however, it is a lot of work. My father is completely out of the picture. He has decided that he wants nothing to do with us, therefore I want nothing to do with him. End of story. And last, but most certainly not least, my little brother, David Smith.

            David, who I usually call Dave, is my little brother who is ten years of age. He does fairly well academically, does not participate in any sports, and has no problem in conversing with anyone. He is very social, and has quite a way of talking. He makes friends instantly. Some may say this is a good thing, but it is a burden to have a brother who wants to talk with everyone he sees. He is one of the most innocent kids that lives in our community. He has yet to be exposed to many bad influences, and I hope it is a while before he does. He has brown hair, is shorter than others his age, and is very soft-hearted. Dave and I have been through a lot, but no matter what, we always can talk to one another, and we always do.

            Life in school have been pretty good. I have been doing extremely well this year, and have even been considered the smartest in our class. I do not really have many friends, but the ones who actually talk to me are usually in need of academic assistance. That is all I seem to be good for. The school routine is fairly easy. I get there, do work, and go home. Nothing that strains me too much. Once I am home, the eager Dave is there waiting to tell me everything about his day. Every last meticulous detail that made an impact on his life that day was relayed on to me. Afterwards, we would eat do homework, then go to bed. Thus is the daily cycle. However, today is different. As I arrive home from school in my 2004 Chevrolet Tahoe, I do not see Dave’s blue eyes peeking through the blinds of our windows. This is shocking. Something is wrong. I step out of my vehicle and approach the door, where hopefully I shall open it and see Dave waiting. But as it turns out, Dave is not in the living room. I then speak in a loud tone as I say his name. “Dave!” I receive no response. I once again try. Again no response. I then go to his room, where I see the door is closed and locked. I quietly knock three times, reassuring Dave that it is me attempting to come in. On the third knock, the door creeps open. I see something that makes me nearly cry and become infuriated at the same time. I look down to see Dave standing there, motionless, with a small tear rolling down his cheek. I yell, “Dave! What happened to you?”

            “It was a kid at school” he replies.

            “What do you mean?” I exclaim!

            “Well,” he starts, “There is this kid at school. He is really big, mean, and scares everyone. I don’t know why he is so mean to everyone. I thought that maybe he just wants someone to talk to and hang out with. I went up to him today during lunch. He was sitting with two other guys. They were big too. So I go up to their table and sit. They ask why I came over there. I told them that I wanted to get to know them. They told me I wasn’t wanted there or anywhere else for that matter. It really hurt my feelings. I tried one last time to speak to them, but I got no reply. After lunch, I went to the bathroom where the three guys were waiting for me. I was really scared of what was going to happen. They laughed at me because of how small I was and how stupid I dressed. They started to call me names, to the point where I was crying. As I began to run out, one of them grabbed me and threw me back in. As I flew in, my face hit the wall, which is where this cut on my face came from. They said if I told anyone what happened, that they would beat me up every day for the rest of the school year. I promised not to tell anyone. Please do not tell mother. They will beat me up!” A tear nearly strolled down my face. As I thought about what to do, I comforted Dave, who started to weep. He has a point: if I tell mother about what happened, she would surely raise trouble at the elementary school. What could I do? I begin to ask Dave a question, “Dave, when do you see these guys most?” His tears stop momentarily.

“Hmm…well usually after school when we are loading the buses to go home.” Then the idea became clear.

“I’ll tell you what Dave, I think this means I will just have to pick you up after school from now on. What do you think?” A spark ignited in his eyes. The joyous tone of his voice once again reappeared.

“That would be awesome! We could talk about our days, and I could tell you how much I learned, and how many friends I made, and…” I can tell that the old Dave has returned. There is still one issue: how will I slip this by Mom when she gets home? Too easy. When she asks what happened, I say that Dave fell today at school. The night went smoothly. Mom barely even notices Dave’s face, as bright as it is. I simply tell her that he fell out of his bed the night prior. Dave goes along with it, and life goes on.

School continues to be easy, for both me and Dave now that his issue is resolved. The bullies leave him alone now that I pick him up daily. About a month goes by, and about then is when another issue arises: a school dance. Now why is this considered an issue? Anyone who wants to be considered normal will attend, and I know if I do not then I will receive ridicule from others, which I can do without. No, I cannot go alone, or I will still receive ridicule. Of course, Dave offers to go with me, but I told him it doesn’t work like that. There is but one I have considered going with to this dance: Katelyn. Katelyn is a fairly attractive girl whom I have talked with before. She has a good personality and is not into all the daily drama that is seen at a high school. She is tolerable and seems to have a tad bit interest in me. It is very possible if I ask her to go with me, she will agree. So the day comes for me to ask her. It is now or never. I go to school and, during lunch, I see her standing in the cafeteria. She is beautifully dressed today, which one thing that is usual for her. I am prepared formally with flowers behind my back. My heart starts to beat at an increased rate, and I stroll right up to her. I am about three feet from her, and I say, in a faint tone, “Katelyn?” She looks at me with a smile that melts my heart away. I continue “I was wondering if you…” I freeze for a second. I regain my breath and finish. “I was wondering if you would like to go to the dance with me this upcoming Friday.” The response she gives me, I am convinced, will forever change my life. I did not expect what she says next in any degree.            

She begins, “You want to go to the dance with me?” I simply nod with excitement. She seems very happy about this. She then begins to answer my advances. The moment of truth has arrived. “Yes, I would love to go with you!” My heart stops for a second. This is the first time my advances towards the opposite sex have not been shot down. I am incredibly happy that she agrees to go with me. She accepts my flowers, and I accept the hug she offers me in return. It turns out that, for the first time that I can recall, I have plans on a Friday night. This is a Tuesday that I decided to ask, and so I fly through the week in anticipation of Friday night. The week was very easy up until this point, making it that much more exciting. Friday night comes arrives very soon. As I prepare to pick up Katelyn at 6:30 on the spot, Dave comes out to see me off.

“I hope you have fun Mark,” he says.

“I know I will,” I reply. It is great that he cares so much about me. My car was already washed twice over in anticipation for tonight. I have on a blue collared shirt, the most excellent of jeans, decent dress shoes (the best I could find), and a smile on my face that only shields nervous feelings. I open the door to my Tahoe, step in, and, with one last look at Dave, I drive off.

Katelyn had revealed the location of her house to me earlier this week, so that I would know where to pick her up. It is about a ten minute drive from where I live, but it is the longest ten minutes I will ever experience. My heart beats faster with every passing minute. Sweat begins to drip slowly down my forehead, like a man who has been in the hot sun the whole day. I begin to drive slower, and slower, and slower the closer I came to her address. Now is the time. I see her driveway. As I cut the wheel in a formal manner, I gently accelerate all the way into her driveway. It is 6:28. I have exactly two minutes until that beautiful blonde girl walks out of the house, with a dazzling outfit on that is surely to make me twice or three times as nervous. As I begin to think about it more, my heart becomes more restless. Even worse it is 6:29! It is practically its own drum set now. In a minute, the girl whom I adore is going to walk out of the door to this house. She is going to go to the dance with me. With me! There are so many overall better guys at our school, and this girl is going with me! The thought is just so unbelievable. It is now 6:30. It is the moment, the moment that will change my life forever. I step out of my vehicle, close my door, lean casually upon the Tahoe, and await the second the door to the house opens. A couple of seconds pass by, which is understandable. She may not be ready to go yet. It is now 6:31. She still has yet to come out. However, I am being overly eager. When a person says “6:30,” then it is more than likely going to be 10 or 15 minutes after. It is now 6:36, and she has still not come out. I am a little worried now. Never has the thought even crossed my mind that somebody may be nervous to see me! Katelyn must be nervous. As I think about going to the door and actually knocking, I notice that the clock says 6:42. I should go and make sure everything is okay. I take long steps towards the door that I expect will open any time. I walk right up to it, straighten my shirt, and knock several times. There is a pause, and then the door opens.

“Hello” says a man slightly taller, but larger, than I.

“I am here to pick up Katelyn for the dance” I say in the most sincere voice. It is here that the story takes a turn for the worse. The moment that was going to change my life for the better, make me more social, get me to speak and participate with the opposite sex, basically blows up in my face. The one girl that is perfect for me, the one girl whose qualities shine the brightest, the one girl that was going to give me a chance in life, has given me the opposite effect. The man looks at me with a questionable face,

“What do you mean?”

“I am here to pick up Katelyn for the dance today” I reiterate. The man then gives me a very sad face.

“Oh” he says, “You want Katelyn. There is a really big problem though.” I am taken aback at this statement. What does he mean there is a problem? Is she hurt? Sick? I then ask him in return,

“What happened?”

“Well,” he starts, “she left about half an hour ago. She said that she was going to the dance alone. She did not tell me about anyone coming to pick her up.” I am very upset at this. Why on Earth would Katelyn be going alone when we both explicitly agreed that I would pick her up? At this moment, I just stand in an awkward daze as the quite large man stares me down. While I am pondering the many possibilities of why Katelyn is gone, the man, whom I have pretty much determined is her dad, makes a suggestion. “Why don’t you just go to the dance and look for her there? She may have just thought you were not going to pick her up, or she may have wanted to go out somewhere first. You won’t know unless you try to find her.” This snaps me out of my trance. I thank her dad for the idea and respectfully shake his hand. I then head back to the Tahoe to go to the high school dance. At this point my heart drops, and the ride over to the school makes it even more dreadful. I arrive at the school where nearly every parking spot is taken. I finally find one in my quest and sit quietly for a second.

I begin to ponder why Katelyn would go without me in more detail. Am I that ugly? Unintelligent? Unappealing? Am I that terrible of a person? Why is it that no person of the opposite sex will give me a chance? Am I really that undeserving? I don’t ask for much. I never have in my life. I have always just wanted acceptance, which I have never really received. As the plethora of negative thoughts overtake my mind, I notice someone walking outside of the high school. It is Katelyn. The negative thoughts disperse at once. I throw my door open as fast as my car would allow. I step out with a huge pain in my stomach and an uneasiness in my stride. Katelyn is approximately 50 feet from where I stand. I walk with a great speed towards her, so that I may ask her about this whole situation. As I am about to reach her, she turns around and begins to walk back into the school. I say her name with a loud tone. She does not falter in her steps. She continues her journey back into the high school. I approach the front doors and pause for a second. I begin to plan out my method of attack. First, I shall trace her down and get her alone. Then, I will figure out what is going on with the situation. And finally, hopefully, we can enjoy the remainder of the dance with one another. As I reconfirm the plan in my head, I walk into the school building.

The vast majority of lights initially strike my face. I nearly go blind. My eyes begin to readjust, and I begin my plan of attack. I look all around in the school gymnasium, which is where I first entered. Katelyn seems to not be here. I begin to think of alternate places she could be. The second place I need to go to is the cafeteria. The reason for this is that many people who get tired of the overcrowded gymnasium often head to the cafeteria for refreshments. I begin my voyage. As I head to the cafeteria, I keep my eyes open for anyone trying to slip past me without my knowledge of them. I enter the cafeteria once I arrive. I look all around. At first, I see no one of recognition. Then at a second glance I see a group of girls, a group that often includes Katelyn. I march to the group, in more of a frustrated manner instead of a nervous one. At the head of the group stands the one and only Katelyn. I stare at her for a few seconds before I say anything. Before I have the chance, she makes the first move.

“Is there something I can help you with?” she asks. This absolutely shocks me.

I reply, “I thought I was going to pick you up from your house tonight.” I could not have said this in a nicer tone. At this point Katelyn looks at me with a face that represents both anger and confusion.

“Were we supposed to go together or something?” she asks. I am nearly in tears now. We had already talked out when and where I was going to pick her up, and she now acts like she knows nothing about us going here together. My voice now begins to crack and my lip begins to quiver. I tell her of how we were going together, but she denies any claim she made of agreeing to go with me to this dance. I am now crying. I then say to her,

“Why would you forget about me? Why would you not want to go with me?”

“Well,” she starts, “I didn’t think we were going together first of all. And secondly, why on Earth would I go with a loser like you?” My heart drops, but not nearly as fast as my tears do. My legs become weak, and my stomach feels as if it is getting ready to implode. My arms are like noodles. I cannot lift them despite my attempt to wipe the water from my eyes. My chest feels pressured, like there is a heavy boulder upon it. My head aches, my nose runs, and my mouth is unable to move. To top all of this off, the crowd surrounding Katelyn begins to laugh at me, in all of my misery. Katelyn just stares at me, while cracking a grin at my sorrow. As I am humiliated, I decide to try and run out of the high school. I start to move, but in my hurry to find safety I trip and fall onto the ground. Injury is added to insult.  I sob out loud, as I struggle to get back to my feet and hustle out of the building. The crowd is at a boisterous laugh now, so much that the cafeteria’s laughter could be heard a mile down the road. I run out of the building and search for my car. The tears make it hard to see, but I manage to spot my vehicle. I rush there, open the door, throw the key into the ignition, and push the gas pedal to the floor as I speed away.

The thoughts make their way into my head once again. You are a loser! No one likes you! No one will ever like you! You are a worthless piece of trash! You don’t deserve to be with someone! All you would do is make them look bad! You are a terrible person! You are unappealing! You are not worthy of someone of the opposite sex! You are unintelligent! If you were smart, you would have figured out how to get a girlfriend! You don’t even have a girl who is a friend! You don’t even have friends! These thoughts only made the tears appear faster. My confidence level is lower than how far my heart dropped.

I speed home going insanely fast. I nearly run off the road twice, and drift onto the other side of the road several times. I begin to come to my house, the only place where I am tolerated anymore. I whip the Tahoe into the driveway, throw it in park, open the door to it and slam it shortly after, and make my way to the house. Mother has to work late, so she is not here at the moment. Dave was heading to bed when I left before, so I anticipate he is asleep. I get to the door, and as I insert my key into it, it will not budge. The key will not turn at all. All of my depression is now frustration and anger. I violently try to turn the key many times, but still no result. I do such once more, and the key breaks in the door. I take a step back and, with a yell, I kick the door in. I now have strength in my body again, and I angrily march to my room and slam the door to it. I jump on my bed and lay there sobbing for an hour straight.

In all of this commotion I cannot expect Dave to still be asleep. I hear a couple of knocks at the door after I have run out of tears. I tell him to leave me alone. This request is ignored. He cracks the door open slowly and enters. “Dave, I told you to leave me alone!” He gives no response other than a slow approach towards me. He walks right up to me, jumps onto the bed, and gives me a hug. My entire mood changes. I am no longer angry or upset. Dave’s hug means the world to me. It shows me that no matter how others treat me, Dave will always be there. I hug him back with a tight embrace, and we sleep next to one another the rest of the night.

Remember how I said brothers are always there for each other? That is the relationship best represented by me and Dave. No matter the situation, I am there for Dave, and he is there for me. When one of us is hurt, the other is hurt. We feel each other’s pain. I did not need to tell Dave what had happened that night. In a way, he already knew and understood. He is the younger brother, the one who teaches the older one what it means to love. Without him, I would probably be absolutely heartless.

Mom comes home later that night to discover the door being broken. I explain the whole scenario the following morning, which makes her furious with me. This is understandable, and she grounds me for an entire month. I have no complaints about this, as I usually don’t do anything outside of school anyways. Speaking of school, I do not see much more of Katelyn in school. I try my best to avoid her at all costs. Of course I am bullied by everyone for the scene I made that night. I do not care however. Life goes on as always. Well, at least that is what I thought. Sometimes life does not go on for people. Sometimes life is not as long as some make it out to be. Life can be taken at an instant, as is apparent with what happens next.

Two months pass since the Katelyn experience. I speak to no one in school, and, like usual, no one speaks to me either. I have cut off all ties to any other student at school. While this may seem a bit extreme, it is the only true way to avoid another situation. The only friend I have is Dave. The only friend I need is Dave. Dave and I have really began to open up to one another on an emotional level. Recently he has been telling me about his hardships in school, and I have been giving him advice. He is my hope in this world, which is why I wish for him to live his life with as little trouble as possible. The most recent problem Dave has complained about is his athletic deprivation.

Dave has always wanted to become some famous celebrity. He has always wanted fame and fortune, and he figures the best way to do this is through professional athletics. Dave’s favorite sport is soccer, although he has no skill in the sport. Still, he wishes to become a world-famous soccer star. In order to help him accomplish this goal, I have taken the liberty upon myself to purchase a soccer ball and have even made a makeshift soccer goal. Dave and I have been playing after school every day for the past two weeks. Dave is a very quick learner when it comes to certain things, and apparently soccer is one of them. He has nearly mastered basic ball control and passing. The only thing he lacks is shooting ability. He cannot be blamed however. It is mainly due to the absence of space in our front yard.

One day, Dave and I decide to practice only shooting the ball into the goal. We walk outside, and the wonderful cool weather embraces us. Dave puts on his shoes and grabs the ball before leaving the house. He throws the ball on the ground, looks at me, and says “Ready brother?” I reply,

“Yes, of course. I will go into the goal first and let you shoot Dave.” At this he is overly joyous.

“Okay brother, get ready!” He replies. I widen my stance, bend my knees, and prepare for what is to come. Dave backs up a fair distance, dashes forward at a fast pace, and strikes the ball with direct accuracy his first try. It heads toward the lower left corner of the goal. My hands are not fast enough. I step out my left leg in an effort to block the ball. It proves to be a success! The ball bounces off of my leg and across the road in front of our house. Before I can even think about saying anything, Dave darts out into the road to retrieve the ball. Thus begins my sorrow.

It was a truck that day, a truck that killed Dave. He dashed into the road without knowledge of its coming. He was hit more direct than the soccer ball was. All of the efforts I made to ensure he lived that day were pointless. I drove him to the hospital at top speed, and Mom was there about 10 minutes later because she was at work. Dave was alive for only an hour after Mom arrived. His last words were, “Brother, I love you. Don’t let anyone get you down. Always remember me. I want you to live on with me in your memory.” He flat lined shortly after. I promised him I would do this before he passed. Mom and I have never been the same since. I have lived my life in silence from that day forward.

Let me once again reiterate the relationship of brothers. Brothers have bonds that could not be severed even with the sharpest of knives. The older brother is the one who protects and helps the younger brother, while the younger brother is the one who teaches the older brother what it means to love another person. With Dave gone, does this mean I am heartless? How will I survive much longer without a heart? No, never mind, the answer is clear. Dave has not faded. He is still there in my heart, cheering me on from some other place. I have continued to live my life in accordance with Dave’s wishes, making sure nobody ever gets me down again. Although he is gone, the lessons he has taught me and the experiences we have had together has made me into the man I am today. I will always miss you Dave. Your legacy will live on in my soul as long as I shall live.