Those of you who have an older sibling, or in particular an older brother, will relate to this story. I remembered it recently while my hubby and I were talking about how boys should look out for their sisters.
When I was in elementary school, we rode the bus home every day. Since we all went to a pretty small local public school, all grade levels were in the same school, and therefore we rode the same bus home. Ours was Bus #8, and was very rural, and was driven by Pete, the guy from whom we bought our farm. (He should be the subject of another post!)
Anyway, one day I was haggling with another student on the bus over who knows what. It was a boy near my age, and I don't remember much about him except he didn't like me. He got nasty. (I'm sure I was being a perfect angel and didn't give him any reason to dislike me so...). He called me fat and ugly, and made me start to tear up. Unknown to me, my older brother, Scott was sitting nearby listening. We were near the back of the bus, so he slid to a nearby seat when Pete wasn't looking around with his eagle eye. He got close to the kid and threatened him...may have even punched him a little...not quite sure anymore. My brother is five years older than me, so to have an important high-schooler come to your defense is perfectly amazing.
I was on cloud nine. I felt protected and loved and vindicated! My quiet brother had been looking out for me even when I didn't know it! The boy never made fun of me again, and my tears were soon dry.
We got off the bus...all four of us. I sped to catch up with Scott, who could always walk really fast through the shortcuts. I looked up at him in wonder and said, "I'm so glad you stuck up for me Scott. You made me feel so special!" (or something to that effect).
He looked at me without smiling, punched me hard on the arm and said, "Well, it doesn't mean that I like you." Then he ran off.
Every girl needs a big brother to look out for her...but a brother is still a brother, no matter how heroic he can be!
I teared up reading about your hero.
ReplyDeleteTakes me back the the yellow school-bus days. I remember my brother sticking up for me once too . . . yet he still picked on me just the same (not that I EVER picked on him). Funny how we sisters are/were! Thanks for sharing your memory!
ReplyDeleteHere's a humorous correction :) I believe Pete drove bus three and Paul drove bus eight. We started out with Pete and then a year or so later the district re-routed and switched us to bus eight. I remember as a third or fourth grader thinking how cool it was to be moved to bus eight because it was five higher numbers than bus three and obviously far superior...And Paul was so much more cool than Pete :) I also used to dream about getting to ride bus nine (which was the highest numbered bus the school used on regular routes). Of course, I was ecstatic the day we had the "substitute" bus; it was really old, a lot longer than the regular buses, and its number was ten. It was the height of coolness...at least in my third grader mind.
ReplyDeleteHmm...forgot about that. I guess every girl needs a little brother, too!
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