“Mom,” 

Jeremy walked into the office with a ball in his hands. He saw his mother, her eyes remained glued to the computer in front of her, never looking up to acknowledge him.

“Can Tommy and Jared come over to hang out?” He asked while tossing the ball up and down. Mom continued to type vigorously.

“Sorry, Jeremy, Mommy has been busy with a lot of work lately,” she replied. “Let’s invite them over another time; sound good?”

“Why can’t you just continue working, and we can play upstairs?” Jeremy questioned. He bounced the ball to the floor with a little force, creating a loud sound. Mom jumped.

“You’ll be too loud, and I have a meeting in 10 minutes so will you please-”

Crash!

The door to the office heavily shut as Jeremy stomped upstairs. This is stupid, I hate her -- furiously walking to a different room. In his parent’s bedroom, he slammed the door shut, locking it with the handle. Jeremy threw his ball up to the ceiling with just enough force so that it could come rushing right back to him. Why is she always treating me like a child? I can take care of myself. He caught the ball and threw it to the wall, noticing a picture of him and Dad together at an amusement park stamped onto a corkboard. I wish Dad was here. Jeremey paused for a second. If he was here I wouldn’t need to ask for friends to come over. The ball bounced back to him. But instead, he’s off in London, caring more about his job than us. He slammed the ball into the ground. Why did he even take the job? He reached for it as it bounced back up. He should have said no. Instead of catching it, Jeremy drew a fist and punched with full force. His vision slowed down, watching the ball fearfully as it crashed straight into mom and dad’s wedding picture. His gaze flew to the small chunks of glass that fell to the floor, and the custom frame with Mom’s and Dad’s initials carved into it snapped in half. The sound of footsteps approached the bedroom, and the door flung open. 

“What did you do?!” 

Jeremy spun around and there stood his little brother, Tod. 

“What did you do,” he repeated. He looked down at the broken pieces of glass scattered across the floor. “Uhhh…”

Jeremy clenched his hands tightly, his nails digging into the palm of his hands. He looked up at Tod with an angry frown and yelled, “this is all your fault!” Tod flinched at the sudden remark, his eyes widening.

“I didn’t do that; you did it,” he replied.

“No!” Jeremy yelled. “This would have never happened if you just stayed out of my way and Dad’s way.”

“What’s this got to do with Dad?” Tod asked. 

“If you didn’t bother Dad so much, making him buy you things, complaining about how your friends have stuff that you don't, he would’ve never been working in a different country and could have been here with us.” 

Tod stared deeply at Jeremy’s face and expression. He could see a slight tear roll down his brother’s face and his whole body slowly falling and rising with heavy breathing. Suddenly, Mom rushed in with a stern look plastered on her face. 

“Are you boys okay?” She called with a concerned tone as she ran from downstairs to the scene. Neither of the two answered her. Instead, Tod’s eyes directed over to the broken picture. He looked closer. Realizing the memory displayed on it, he broke out into tears, burying his face into the palms of his hands. Mom walked over to him and squatted down so that she could see him, eye to eye. 

“Tod, what happened?” Mom asked. When she got no answer, she looked over to Jeremy. “Jeremy, what-”

“I did it,” Tod said.