Read Online Before They Rode Horses by Bonnie Bryant - Free Book Online
Authors: Bonnie Bryant
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world spent all day every day comparing us. It was “Stevie has lighter hair,” or “Alex can climb trees better,” or “Stevie is a better reader,” or “Alex runs faster, doesn’t he?” Every time somebody made an observation about either one of us, it was a comparison, and one of us came out ahead of the other.
In fairness to my parents, I’ve got to tell you that they didn’t do that. They knew better. They’d just tell me how proud they were that I could read so well, or they’d admire how fast Alex could run. They tried really hard—and they still do—but I know that when they admired my reading, Alex would wonder what was wrong with the way he read. I know it because when they admired how quickly Alex ran, I wondered if they’d noticed how fast I could run. To tell you the truth, it was a no-win situation for them.
The thing I had going for me was that I was the girl in the family. That was how I stood out. People would describe us as “the boys and Stevie,” and Iliked that. My brothers got bunched in, but I got singled out. That made me feel better. Until Michael arrived. First of all, he was cute as a button. That’s what people said all the time. I never saw anything particularly cute about buttons, but apparently my parents’ friends have been admiring buttons for years, and Michael qualified in that department.
I didn’t think he was so cute. For one thing, he couldn’t do anything. He just cried and slept. Every once in a while, he’d gurgle, drool, or spit up, and all the adults around would act as if that were the most exciting thing in the world. If I did it, I’d get sent away from the table!
Now, some people might just decide to give up at this point, maybe join up with the ogling adults or at least stop trying to get noticed. Not me. I decided to be the best possible Stevie. By that, naturally, I meant that I was going to be better than my brothers at everything no matter what.
It was easy being better than Michael. All I had to do was burp louder. Anybody could do that, so I set my sights on Chad and Alex. If Alex climbed to the sixth set of branches in the tree in front of our house, I climbed to the seventh. If Chad swam two laps of our pool, I swam three. Of course, I nearlydrowned doing it because I wasn’t nearly as good a swimmer as he was, but I did it and Dad said he only lost ten years of his life dragging me out of the water. Seemed to me like a fair trade-off.
Chad and Alex and I played together a lot because we had to. I mean, we were in the same house and we were too young then to have friends over
all
the time the way we do now, and, besides, Chad hadn’t discovered girls yet. We played cops and robbers, cowboys and Indians, pirates and sailors—you name it. The two of them always tried to get me to be the loser. I got to be better at robbing than they were at policing. I figured out how the pirates could clear the seas of all the galleons of gold. In short, I was good. But they ganged up on me. One robber could defeat one cop, but with two against one, I was a sure loser.
I don’t like losing. I never have.
Lisa and Carole exchanged glances. They didn’t have to say anything. They both knew they’d heard the understatement of the year. They didn’t have to explain it to Deborah, either, since she was politely smirking into her napkin. Without a doubt, Stevie was the most competitive person any of them had ever known.
“Oh, go ahead and laugh at me,” Stevie said to them. “Hating to lose has made me work harder and do
better than I would have thought I could at a lot of things. But that’s another story.”
It wasn’t easy being a younger and a twin sister to two boys. Chad was better at soccer, touch football, even kick the can. Alex was good at all of these things, and better than I was. I was just a girl. I began to wish that I’d been born a boy so that I could be as “good” as they were. I wanted to be as good as someone.
And then there
In fairness to my parents, I’ve got to tell you that they didn’t do that. They knew better. They’d just tell me how proud they were that I could read so well, or they’d admire how fast Alex could run. They tried really hard—and they still do—but I know that when they admired my reading, Alex would wonder what was wrong with the way he read. I know it because when they admired how quickly Alex ran, I wondered if they’d noticed how fast I could run. To tell you the truth, it was a no-win situation for them.
The thing I had going for me was that I was the girl in the family. That was how I stood out. People would describe us as “the boys and Stevie,” and Iliked that. My brothers got bunched in, but I got singled out. That made me feel better. Until Michael arrived. First of all, he was cute as a button. That’s what people said all the time. I never saw anything particularly cute about buttons, but apparently my parents’ friends have been admiring buttons for years, and Michael qualified in that department.
I didn’t think he was so cute. For one thing, he couldn’t do anything. He just cried and slept. Every once in a while, he’d gurgle, drool, or spit up, and all the adults around would act as if that were the most exciting thing in the world. If I did it, I’d get sent away from the table!
Now, some people might just decide to give up at this point, maybe join up with the ogling adults or at least stop trying to get noticed. Not me. I decided to be the best possible Stevie. By that, naturally, I meant that I was going to be better than my brothers at everything no matter what.
It was easy being better than Michael. All I had to do was burp louder. Anybody could do that, so I set my sights on Chad and Alex. If Alex climbed to the sixth set of branches in the tree in front of our house, I climbed to the seventh. If Chad swam two laps of our pool, I swam three. Of course, I nearlydrowned doing it because I wasn’t nearly as good a swimmer as he was, but I did it and Dad said he only lost ten years of his life dragging me out of the water. Seemed to me like a fair trade-off.
Chad and Alex and I played together a lot because we had to. I mean, we were in the same house and we were too young then to have friends over
all
the time the way we do now, and, besides, Chad hadn’t discovered girls yet. We played cops and robbers, cowboys and Indians, pirates and sailors—you name it. The two of them always tried to get me to be the loser. I got to be better at robbing than they were at policing. I figured out how the pirates could clear the seas of all the galleons of gold. In short, I was good. But they ganged up on me. One robber could defeat one cop, but with two against one, I was a sure loser.
I don’t like losing. I never have.
Lisa and Carole exchanged glances. They didn’t have to say anything. They both knew they’d heard the understatement of the year. They didn’t have to explain it to Deborah, either, since she was politely smirking into her napkin. Without a doubt, Stevie was the most competitive person any of them had ever known.
“Oh, go ahead and laugh at me,” Stevie said to them. “Hating to lose has made me work harder and do
better than I would have thought I could at a lot of things. But that’s another story.”
It wasn’t easy being a younger and a twin sister to two boys. Chad was better at soccer, touch football, even kick the can. Alex was good at all of these things, and better than I was. I was just a girl. I began to wish that I’d been born a boy so that I could be as “good” as they were. I wanted to be as good as someone.
And then there
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