Free Certainty by Eileen Sharp

me," he said,  pulling out a picture.
    He was very tiny, all wrapped up in a blanket, cuddled in Dad's brawny arms. "You were so small," I said.
    "Only six pounds when he was born. Just a little guy," Mom said, her face going soft as she looked at the picture.
      I grabbed James and wrapped my arms around him, squeezing him. "He's so adorable."
    He rolled his eyes but he didn't try to get away from me. I think he secretly likes hugs.
    I opened my laptop to check my emails and fool around on Facebook for a while. I could hear my mom in the kitchen cleaning up her scrapbooking stuff.
    Pretty soon she and James left for soccer practice and I was by myself. I left the computer and went into the kitchen for a drink. The photo album she was working on was lying on the table and I flipped through its pages.
    The front door opened and Derek came in the kitchen, dropping his gym bag and helmet on the floor. His curly dark hair stuck to his sweaty forehead and he smelled like B.O. and grass.
    "I'm starving."
    He opened the fridge and began pulling out food to   make a sandwich. "What are you looking at ?"
    "Mom's scrapbook."
    He came over and looked over my shoulder, eating a slice of cheese and chewing in my ear. "We were fat babies."
    It was such a Derek-thing to say--to take all the poetry out of the moment and pare it down to "fat babies."
    “Mom says we were all adorable.”
    He swallowed his wad of cheese, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he looked at me, a knowing look in his eyes. “She supposed to say that. She’s the mom.”
    I mumbled, “Well, I was adorable.”
    He laughed. “And bald.”
    I closed the book and sighed, finished with my trip down memory lane. At least while he was around.
    Derek turned around as I left the kitchen he said, "Don't even think about watching your dumb reality show. It's my turn to play a game."
    I sat down on the couch and then realized Derek wasn't the almighty dictator of the television. I found the remote and found my favorite show.
    I heard him yell out from the kitchen, "I said don't go on the TV!"
    "You're eating!"
    "I’ll be right there!" he yelled   back, his voice verging on desperate.
    I picked up the remote. Dad had programmed the television and the game system all on one remote. We once lost it and were without TV for days. I walked into the kitchen, holding it behind my back as I made my way to the back door. He was taking a huge bite out the sandwich, his cheeks bulging as he watched me walk away.
    "You can have the television," I said, pausing. "But you might need...this."
    I held out the remote long enough to see his eyes narrow and bolted for the door. I didn't see him come after me but I heard the thud of his feet on the floor as he charged across the kitchen. I yanked the door open and flew down the back stairs into the backyard and around the house.
    I rounded the corner and looked back. Derek was catching up with me, his legs pumping in huge, monstrous strides. Man, he was getting big.
    The adrenaline spiked through me and I sprinted forward with all my might, my whole body straining forward, willing my feet to jump off the ground. I skidded around the corner and ran for the front sidewalk, pumping down the street.
    "Get back here!" he yelled but I could tell he wasn't that serious.
    Derek's footsteps hit the concrete right after mine did and my lungs were screaming for air. I was gripping the remote so tight it clicked in my hand as I ran.
    I dove into Ren's driveway, my feet crunching on the seashells and Derek followed me. I wasn't sure why I went there...I didn't know where I was going, I just had to get there fast.
    I ran into Ren's backyard and across it, heading through all the backyards towards ours again. I flew by backyard gardens and trellises and Hank’s weirdly pruned fruit trees.
    I reached the small meadow that ran behind all our backyards and that's when my brave run ended. Derek tackled me and we both fell in the grass. I started laughing