CHAPTER 1

Everything about this day had gone absolutely right for Brock—thatis, right up until the incident in the kitchen. As far-fetched as itsounds, Brock had been toying with a white bean from the Saturday jarand was planning to fire it into the back of Dane's head as he was busywashing the dinner dishes. Ostensibly, he launched it perfectly to brainDane straight into a nasty rage but instead it took an impossible 180turn doubling back unmistakably into the middle of Brock's forehead!Brock was stunned, angry, humiliated, and aghast! Dane could barelykeep a lid on his derisive laughter; Brock tried to save face by making afast and fastidious exit. How could his loser of a brother pull off a magictrick like that?

Brock had remembered a weird sensation when he breezed pastDane—like a chill ..., or his heart skipping a beat, or trembling ...but certainly, something indefinable; he headed straight up to hisroom—amusingly referred to as his 'laboratory'. His mind waspreoccupied with a few bits of bullying he planned to visit upon Daneand whomever else that might be innocently standing by, but his mindwas anxious about the peculiar bean incident. Everything surroundingthat brother of his, lately, was just plain weird and he had to really applysome super concentration skills to figure out a plan to get him back.His forehead still stung from the kamikaze bean that had just smackedhim full force between the eyes—unconsciously rubbing the reddeningtarget. He scanned his room for ideas and absent-mindedly emptied hispockets on top of his homework—the offending white bean included.Nothing came to mind easily—however, for Brock, one of the mostenjoyable feelings about his 'teasing' was the challenge it presented infiguring out not only the torment inflicted on his victim—but alsohow to get by with it undetected.

Brock knew the family was downstairs preparing to play boardgames as an alternative to TV; usually he was pretty good at Scrabble,Trivia, Boggle, all of them, and loved competition (and frequentlywinning)—but he was bothered by the recent weirdness from Danethat seemed to plague him night and day—but also that Daneirritatingly won more often. First, Dane never seemed to get madvery much anymore and Brock had relished those tantrums—from adistance, of course; but he did love how Dane's eyes bugged out, gotbloodshot ..., his ears turned bright red ..., and it seemed like hishead puffed up like it was ready to explode! Brock laughed softly tohimself just thinking about it. Then he wondered for a short momentwhy it seemed so humorous to him. He guessed it felt good somehow,it felt ..., oh, what was the word ...? Don't know—don't care. Hewas never one to languish over useless information. And second, howcould his loser of a brother always seem to get the best of him in theprocess? He was not liking that feeling one bit and he resolved to ampup his strategies.

Moving on, he scanned the objects on his desk for ideas with whichto inflict irritation on his hapless victims. Brock's desk was impeccablyclean ... ; in fact, his entire room was impeccably clean! He was oneintentional cleaning machine! Ooo, woo ..., maybe perfectionistic?Nah ... When one was constantly planning, devising, formulating,and concocting activities to 'try out' on other people for personalentertainment, one needed to be necessarily organized! Just now,though, Brock noticed a strangely out-of-place object sitting at theback of his desk. It was nothing except a miniature rocking chair—acurious, extraordinary, miniature rocking chair. What the ..., he shookhis head as his mind trailed off. H-m-m ... how/when/why ... could/would/should a tiny, rocking chair suddenly appear out of context onhis neatly-arranged homework desk among textbooks/study materials/pencils and paper?

Brock sat back on his chair in wonderment. Maybe his Mother setit there when she was inspecting his cleaning job or forgot it when sheleft his room. There had to be a logical explanation; in fact, Brock wasall about logic, but right now, it was not important enough to deterhim from his real objective of stirring up some devious entertainment.He immediately got out a sheet of paper and decided to make alist as his mind geared toward charting a plan for his dear brother,Dane—first on his list. Sedrick, Dane's fish was second on the list forcertain reasons; Brock ever-so briefly recalled the recent scare the fishhad given him—but quickly got back to the 'list'. Brock licked his lipsand suddenly thought of Janie, Dane's little dream girlfriend! ThenRicky, the goofball who caused all the problems with having to workon restoring the flower garden in the courtyard of the School! Yowza,he realized this list could go on forever and he furiously scratcheddown names/projects/ideas until he filled up the top half of the sheetof paper.

Ah, yes ..., Brock recognized the familiar, odd, but good feelingof power ... or, maybe ... superiority when he was able to set Daneinto a rage. Some of the things that kid did when he got mad! Brockthoroughly enjoyed the drama—but the best part was when Brockcould essentially step out of the picture and nobody would be thewiser! The rush of being the instigator behind a plot and gettingby with it! Very seldom did his parents ever figure out who causedDane to rip. Brock thought every day his parents got more andmore clueless ..., or was it just because he was so dang good atpushing buttons! Love it, love it, love it! He socked a fist into theair to celebrate a guaranteed future personal victory against thoseon his List!

Brock took a sneering look at his homework and decided to call hisbest friend, Ruk, to 'share' answers. Ha ha! Teachers were as clueless asparents! Brock was counting the days when he would turn 14—onlyten and a half months away—and could start driving to schoolwith a Learner's Permit—then the fun would really begin! He couldtantalize Dane with riding along and drive off without him, have morespeed available to spy on him, tempt him with all sorts of tricks andthen innocently say to Mother, "I thought Dane was walking hometoday ...,". Still smirking, Brock dialed Ruk's number to quicklyexchange answers to their pointless, boring homework. One of theactivities was even a test! Why would a teacher send a test home andtell you not to cheat? Geez ...

Ruk answered, "Hi Slimeball! What's your answer to #13—whatstarted the Civil War?

"Hey, Jerk, I don't know anything about the Civil War—all I knowabout is my current war and how I'm sure to win it ..." laughing, thenturning serious, "hey, are we going to play paint ball this weekend?"

"It's an oxymoron."

Laughing, Brock quickly inserted, "Yeah, just don't tell yourparents or my parents will find out and I'll be grounded for the restof my life. My 'source' came through with the ..., an oxymoron?What's that?"

"You don't know what an oxymoron is, Moron?"

"Of course I do, idioso, I don't know what or who you are callingan oxymoron!"

"The Civil War, Dopus! Civil and war are oxymorons—like ...,there's nothing civil about a war ..., a war isn't civil ..., they mutuallynegate each other!"

"You probably got that stupid idea off Jeopardy! You would learn alot more about life, Dufus, if you would get your pimply head out ofthe useless dictionary and TV! Just don't breathe a word ...," Brockfeigned making fun of Ruk's intelligence to cover up the fact that he,himself, was secretly an overachiever. In fact, Brock often reported toother students that he never studied for tests when actually he crammedincessantly to make 100%—and, usually, the head-of-the-class grade.He was organized, committed, motivated, and smart. His teacherscalled him an autonomous learner and he relished those frequentcompliments.

"Whatever ..., you ought to try watching more Jeopardy,Gloatacious! Yes, of course we're going to play ..., did you get a holdof Big Br ...?"

"Of course, I got hold of your loser cousin, Big Brother Jack!"

"Sh-h-h, the phone might be tapped!"

"Oh, whatever, you're such a suspicious freak!"

"Well, you never know who might pick up ..., gotta go, Mom'scalling me for some dumb reason ..., Later ..."

"Outta here." Brock was torqued because Ruk always answeredhis Mother ..., couldn't he say he was 'occupied' in the bathroom orsomething? He was so lame at times. Brock scanned the layout of hisroom for the best hiding places. He would have to hide the paintballstuff from his parents, too, because they were so old-fashioned theydidn't believe in war games or, basically, having any kind of fun. Ruksaid nothing could be hid at his house—likely excuse—Brock couldthink of all sorts of places at Ruk's to hide a dab of contraband. Oneof these days he would find some real friends—not the lame ones healways seemed to get stuck with—friends that weren't so intimidatedby their parents or a few little obnoxious and perfectly bendable rules.Good trustworthy friends had to be out there somewhere! Brock,without hesitation, quickly added Ruk's name to his 'List'.

Perversely, Brock's Mother was calling him from the bottom of thestairs.

"Hey, Sweet Boy, are you going to join us for Scrabble?"

Brock hollered back down, "Did you mean ..., am I going totromp all of you in Scrabble? Sure, I'll be right down!" Since Ruk wasnot free anyway to copy the answers from, he might as well waste sometime with the rest of the family and hopped on the banister to quicklyslide to the floor into the living room. He noticed that the family wasexchanging wry looks regarding his comment about winning. Mother,on the contrary, rumpled his hair and smiled even though he knewthat she disapproved of him sliding down the banister. Parents wereconstantly trying to kill fun with 'safety' rules.

Mother had a quirky expression on her face with one raised eyebrowthat seemed to say, "Are you so sure about 'tromping' all of us"? The bestthing about Scrabble in this family was that there were no rules. Inthe spirit of learning and succeeding—Mother and Father's main goalbeing literacy—if any player could summarily defend the word theycontributed, it would be allowed. In fact, Brock did not remember asingle incident when a word was not accepted, including abbreviations,proper names, and more ..., clearly in opposition to the official gamerules. They also got to draw more letters than the true Scrabble rulesallowed in order to make more words. At any rate, it made the gamemuch more fun and achievable, especially for his younger brothers ...,big deal, he could beat them anyway!

Brock was not concerned in the least about not winning, and hedrew his 12 letters out of the bag. He got the letters y, c, r, t, m, o,p, x, g, blank, w and i. His thought and expression were smug—thiswas going to be a quick game ... then he could get back upstairs tohis most favorite hobby—strategizing! He liked getting difficult letterswith high point values—secretly liking the challenge but he absolutelyloved the victory! And the victory dance ..., and lording it over therest of them ..., Brock wallowed in that fantasy for a few.

Father began with the word cat; Dane self-importantly placed cand h behind cat. Cole proudly added e and r. Grandmother smilinglyadded s. The points compounded. Mother and Afton worked togetherand used the t down to make type.

On Brock's turn, he added the letters, w, r, i, t, and the blank e tomake the word, typewrite ... shooting his points ahead of everyone.

Dane hollered, "That's not a word! You have to have an n at theend!"

"Not necessarily, Dane ... and anyway, it would require two t's tomake typewritten," hummed Grandmother.

Mother, Father, Grandmother and all swung their heads towardBrock waiting for the inevitable defense (and probable acceptance) ofhis word.

He merely said, "Typewrite is a verb—the act of typewriting and acompound word. Any more pointless questions?"

"Okay, okay, okay ..." all the way around diffusing any disagreement,and the game continued.

Grandmother said, "Good job, Brock!", then, added r onto the endof typewrite and garnered herself points in addition to all of Brock'spoints. Brock gave her a protesting look but said nothing. Nobodyargued with Grandmother; she was so sweet and everybody loved her,her company and cookies so much that her points were automaticallycertain. She had a knack for bringing out surprises ..., usually herfamous freshly-baked cookies at just the right time. Actually, Motherand Grandmother had a secret pact requiring Grandmother to alwaysprovide the cookies for family get-togethers. Mother did not want towaste money or unnecessary calories on store-bought cookies ladenwith additives, so Grandmother's official job in the family was tobake natural-ingredient cookies. She more than happily obliged andeveryone more than happily obliged in devouring them. Grandfatherwas her self-proclaimed official cookie tester.

Next, Father added letters o, u, g, t to the h in catchers. Cole saw hisopportunity to add n after the o in ought making on. Dane got excitedand placed m, o, r in front of on.

Brock tried to intimidate Dane with a look and said, "Moron?"secretly addressing Dane as a 'moron' within the question. Danegleamed and simply did not care; he merely recorded his points whichdoubly irritated Brock. Still couldn't get that kid mad! In nearly thesame instant, Brock recognized the word that Ruk had used earlierand promptly put the letters o, x, and y in front of moron. He stood,jammed his fist into the air, and exclaimed, "Yes!"

Kudos were joyfully added by adults and everyone to Brock'sincredible word as they were taught to celebrate everybody's success—bigor small.

"Gee, that's a great word, Brock!"

Brock shrugged it off, "Yeah, I read it somewhere a long time ago,"not revealing for a second that he had learned it exactly four and a halfminutes ago.

Then he said to Grandmother, "I suppose you are going to putdown another s to make it plural or something, right?"

Grandmother casually shook her head and mumbled, "Huh-uh".

Brock mistakenly thought this surely must be near the end of thegame until Grandmother, waiting patiently for Brock to completelyenjoy his triumph, clicked an i and c onto the end of oxymoronmaking oxymoronic, sweetly and innocently stealing Brock's thunder.Grandmother never spoke a word or gave lectures, but often hercommitment to and lessons about civility and humility were revealedin pertinent actions such as this opportunity. She also knew when thelesson had hit home and how to wisely back off.

After several more similar rounds, it was perfectly clear that Brockwould easily win the game. Cole, Afton, and Dane were in a mildfunk; Mother and Father expected that Brock would probably (andacademically should be able to) defeat his younger brothers; although,Dane, could and would quite often give Brock a decent run for hismoney. Dane was pleasingly learning to be a literati in his own right. Ithad not yet occurred to Brock that the boys' always winning was partof their parents' 'Master Plan' for literacy and learning.

About forty five minutes later when Brock was declared the officialwinner, the group disbanded into the kitchen for the beyond-belief cookiesand milk. Brock quickly grabbed two melt-in-your-mouth cookies,excused himself and shot upstairs to his various projects—bragging allthe way. On the way, he passed Dane's room and gawked in to see ifhe could quickly disturb Sedrick. Brock had not forgotten Sedrick'srecent strange behavior that could only be explained by his own vividimagination. Just a few weeks ago when he had sneaked into Dane'sroom, had that fish actually told him to 'go away' or had he completelylost his wits? He quietly stepped into Dane's room and tiptoed towardthe fishbowl.

"Hi, Sedrick ..., you fishy little science project!" with a wickedgleam in his eyes. Sedrick was swimming around like he was on amission—almost like he was nervous that Brock was in Dane'sroom.