“But pens are so much more…professional.”
“Not really. You can’t even erase pens!”
“So? Just cross it out! Pencils are so kiddish.”
“Bad idea. And no they’re not!”
“All those famous writers use pens, though…”
“…you forget all the famous writers that use pencils.”
“Just look in your writing textbook. What does…”
“Guys, quit arguing,” Kenzie rolled her eyes. She and Brookie had come out to enjoy the nice weather as well, and they were sitting on the porch step reading a book together.
“And the reason you’re saying that is because…” I stepped forward.
“You should do something fun!” Brookie’s eyes lit up.
“Random, but good idea. Like what?”
“Hmm, why don’t you play a game?” Kenzie pondered. “A duo matchdown.”
“And see who wins,” Cornell added maliciously.
“Of course, why not? That’s what a game is for,” she nodded.
“And whoever wins is the most epic,” I put in.
“Well, I wouldn’t say that…”
It was too late. I smacked my hand against my equally competitive brother’s in a loud highfive. “I’m in.”
Kenzie rolled her eyes again, and Brookie just giggled. They picked up their book and went inside, leaving Cornell and I to battle it out among ourselves.
Five minutes later, we had chosen the game of Sherlock, a memory game. We opened the lid, and both of us scrambled for the manual.
“Let’s see…you turn eight cards face down, and then you have thirty seconds to memorize them -”
“Only thirty seconds??”
“Yes, can you please not interrupt?”
“Are you going to play or not?”
The eight cards were set up.
“Turn them face up. I’ll count to thirty, and we can memorize.”
Cornell promptly flipped the cards up, and the two began furiously memorizing.
“TIME’S UP!” I yelled.
“Wait, what? That wasn’t thirty seconds!” Cornell declared.
“Oh yes it was! I counted.”
“How are you able to count while you memorize?”
“Umm…never mind that!”
The cards were again flipped facedown.
I consulted the manual again. “The first player takes the Sherlock card – where’s the Sherlock card? – oh, right here – and points it to a random card. You can be the first player.”
Cornell walked around the circle of cards, debating which one to select, until finally placing the Sherlock card behind one of them.
“There!” he grinned.
“Ugh…that one??? Oh, wait, I know what it is! It’s the carrot, is it not?”
Cornell flipped the card over. “You’re right,” he sighed. “Now you get another turn – which way is the arrow pointing? Oh, to the left.”
“So I get to guess what the card to the left is,” I said.
“I think it’s the scissors,” I finally answered after much deliberating.
“It’s not. It’s the pencil.” Cornell shook his head.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Your turn now.” I sighed and picked up the Sherlock card.
Cornell tackled me in an attempt to see as I slowly moved it around.
Cornell stared at the card, muttering “Kite…scissors…hat…” to himself. Finally, he spoke up. “Is it the shirt?”
I flipped it open, and Cornell peered closely. “I’m right!!!” he grinned triumphantly, and I just groaned. “Another turn. The arrow points to the left again.”
I moved the Sherlock card.
“I have an impression that it is the kite,” Cornell stated confidently.
“Hey, no fair, you keep getting it right!” I wailed, once again moving the card.
“That’s the chair.”
“Nobody’s sitting on it.”
Cornell rolled his eyes at my attempt to crack a joke, but his eyes lit up when he saw that he was right. “And hey, the arrow points to the right! Wait, it points to an already flipped over card!”
I glanced at the manual and groaned. “That means you get to keep it. Whoever gets six cards first wins.”
“Okay yay! I will destroy you.” Cornell took the card and placed it facedown in front of him.
“It also means that your turn is over.” This was said with a satisfied smirk.
Cornell now took a new card from the deck and set it in the middle. He turned it up, and we memorized it. “Shoe, shoe, shoe. That should be easy.”
“Awesome.” He smirked. “You’re smart, for once.”
I opened my mouth to quip a comeback.
“Here, wait…” Cornell pondered, lying down on his card so that he could properly survey the circle of cards.
“Flip them all over.”
I gasped at him as if he were a madman. “Wait, what? That would destroy the game!”
“Just do it,” Cornell pleaded.
The very minute all the cards had been flipped over, Cornell smirked. “See? There’s one pencil card, and zero pen cards. That means even the game favors pens.”
“Nope. Totally profound, right?”
“Not really. And you seriously just destroyed the game. You’re rude.”
“You’re even ruder.”
“How rude!” I gasped.
“How even ruder!”
So that’s how an argument about pencils and pens turned into a friendly Sherlock game. Which turned into an argument all over again.
Oh well. Brothers can’t be helped.