“Leave him alone!” I screamed at a greasy, pudgy-faced boy. His face fell as I stared him down, daring him to say anything. The boy stuttered, shocked by my assertiveness. Afraid the next word he’d say would be his last, he ran off with his slender, freckled friend. The playground was a battleground for elementary school kids. Those who were bigger and stronger preyed upon the weak, using their unkind words as bullets to tear through their hearts. I had been on the swings, kicking back and forth to go higher and higher until I heard loud laughter coming from the left. I looked over to see a duo of buffoons shouting obscenity at a dirty blond, shy child. I dug my feet into the ground to stop the swings and stomped my way over to the group. Staring them down, my brows furrowed. “Stop that!” I cry, hands on hips. Before they could get a single word in, I scream at them again, and they sprint away. A small voice behind me says, “thanks”. I turn, my frown turns into a small smile. “Kevin, what would you do without me?” I say smugly. I was Kevin’s protector, his guardian. Though I was only 15 minutes older, I felt a need to defend my twin.

My family decided to attend a local fair, the Bluefish Festival. I was mesmerized by it all.

I had attended the fair with my friend, Meghan, and my parents gave us a few dollars for food, trinkets, and games, making us promise to be back in a few hours.  After we made a complete run of the entire establishment and scoped out all of the activities, we were ready to leave. Making our way to my parents, I began to notice the panic and fear in their body language. Acknowledging my presence, my parents ran up to Meghan and me and inquired if we had seen my brother, Kevin, anywhere. We answered no, obviously not the answer they were looking for. We began asking around, wondering if anyone had seen a small boy with dirty blonde hair and a red shirt. The search was so unsuccessful that we asked the band to make an announcement. My stomach filled with unease and I sobbed loudly while Meghan awkwardly stood next to me. I had failed to protect him. I was Peter Pan who couldn’t keep his Lost Boys safe. About a half an hour later, a policeman said he found a port-o-potty that had a high-pitched cry coming from within. Sprinting to the bathroom area, my mom tapped on the door and asked, “Kev, are you in there?” The door’s sign went from “occupied” to “open” within seconds as my brother raced out of it, tears streaming down his face. That was the first time I actually hugged my brother. He told my mom that he couldn’t find us, so he ran to the port-o-potty and locked himself in; we were just relieved he was okay.

I have always felt a sense of protectiveness over my brother. I have learned from these years of living and learning about him that he was not a frail individual who could not care for himself, he is strong and brave. There have even been points in my life where Kevin has saved me from countless predicaments. Taking the blame for my misdeeds like when I broke my mother’s favorite vase, putting up with my embarrassing teasing, and even giving up his belongings just to make me happy. Being with him for almost two decades now, I can honestly say that not a day goes by where we don’t worry about the other, but there is always an absolute chance we have each other’s back.