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Pete

It was a rainy Tuesday morning and I glared out of the window at the clouds that dripped silver drops all over the world outside. Stupid rain. I hated walking in the rain, but I’d have to in order to get to class in a little while.

“Pete,” Archie called with a happy smile on his face as he came into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee from the pot I’d made. “How are you, brother?”

“I’m good, Archie. What has you so happy this morning?” I asked and sipped at my own cup of coffee. Milk, no sugar, thank you.

Archie added a single spoon of sugar and then a little milk before he turned to me, his smile even broader now.

“I’ve got Tessa on the line and I’m going to reel her in when I get to class, later.” That grin oozed cocky certainty. I could reproduce it if I wanted to, but it wasn’t me.

That was Archie’s role, the confident, boastful guy who got his way. Me? I played second string to his first string on the football team. Our brother Ron was on the college’s team as well, but neither
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