dez cameron, district five | fin

I like to think I'm a good brother.

I mean I walk them to school every day and when Ma has to work late I make them dinner. Yeah, sometimes I doze off with my arm on the counter propping up my head and I let the pan burn, but there's nothing wrong with a little bit of a smokey flavor on your midday macaroni. At least I think so. They don't really have the, how do you say it, jen a se qah needed to truly appreciate it.

Ungrateful little shits.

When Ma gets home they always rush over to her and complain that I ruined dinner so she would look up at me with a grating look that screamed, 'I got chronic back pain for this fucker? I screamed bloody murder for five hours to bring a kid who is this incompetent into the world?'

I'm just pulling your string! Though, she probably said something along those lines at one point. I know she loves me, even if she doesn't show it all the time.

They're not all that bad. Though I could jot down a list of about a million of the things they've done wrong, and as a bonus level, I could specifically describe the four times I've taken the brunt of the blame over the things they've done, but I'd have to think really really hard to do that, and school already punishes my brain hard enough. Mrs. Callisto assigned us a three-page essay a few weeks ago and I haven't even started. Thinking isn't really my bread and butter. No thoughts just vibes!

Alright, I'm not much of a thinker, but Ma says that Dad was the same way. I don't think it's really fair that things don't come to me quickly, I flunked the fifth grade because fractions made no damn sense! I'm pretty sure I only passed the second time because the Christmas tree method took pity on me, also they probably wanted my ass out of their classrooms. But hey, a win is a win in my book! Luck is a skill and I am its master.

My mind is a bit of a mess if you couldn't tell already. The train of thought choo-chooing around my head moves at light speeds, so I can never really stay focused on one thing for more than a minute. It's always been like that, a bit like a scrambled egg, with all my thoughts and memories and everything in between whisked together and shoved inside my skull.

Dennis called me a bag of rocks a few days ago, and I said I didn't get it, and that just made him laugh even harder. He's always been a bit of a prune. I like Kitty more. Yeah, she makes fun of the way I talk, but at least she's fun! Dennis always seems like he has a stick up his ass, I guess that's how all smart people are. I never met one that was more fun than me. Those types always gave me weird looks when I answered questions in class, like I was stupid or something. But I don't let it get to me, I'm just there for the ride, baby!

Not to toot my own horn, but I'm kinda a god at skateboarding. When I'm off duty from being the best big brother on the planet, the skate park is where you can find me. Breaking ankles and stomping on dreams, I think I was born for this. I might not know what a logarithmic function is, but I'm the only one of my friends that can do a frontside blunt. (Take that Mr. Barlow!) They don't call me the king of the ring for no reason. I'm just messing with you, no one actually calls me that, but it'll catch on eventually! Sooner or later they'll have to admit my superior skills.

I tried teaching Kitty once because she begged to come with me to the park and when I said no, she jumped on my leg so I had to walk to the park with her like a flea attached to me. I'm no chump, can't pout like a puppy, and change my mind. Stone-cold killer right here. But anyway, two seconds after she got on the board, she lost her balance and cut her knees on the asphalt. Don't worry, I clutched my stomach from laughing after I made sure she was ok!

When I said I was a good brother, I meant it.