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Hand on the doorknob, I shout to Mom, āIām going outside,ā as I pull my blonde ponytail through the hole in my baseball cap.
Iāve almost made my escape when Mom yells from the kitchen. āTake your brother.ā
āArghhhh. He doesnāt want to go,ā I argue, the darkness beckoning me like a best friend.
āYes, I do,ā the Imp contradicts from his seated position halfway up the stairs.
Five years younger, the Imp, as I call my brother, is an unwanted shadow that I canāt shake. Heās not interested in the stars. Bugs and dinosaurs are his thing. He certainly isnāt going to like standing quietly in the cold night to stare into space. He just wants to be with me ā¦ all the time.
The night sky, the darkness, that belongs to me. Now Iām being asked to share it. The Imp will shatter the perfect silence with an endless string of questions that can only come from the mind of a six-year-old.
āSee.ā Mom comes out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a dishtowel. āHe wants to go. Scottie. Put on your jacket and gloves. Iām going upstairs to shower.ā
I check my phone. Only twenty minutes beforeĀ theyĀ will appear. āCome on, come onnnn,ā I groan as I watch my brother spin around and around trying to stuff his other arm into his jacket.
