Bob
Why did he always act this way towards me..? What did I do to deserve it this time..? I rubbed my forehead where Clint had hit me with a hockey stick moments ago. I guess I deserved it...I did get in the way of their game, but that didn't give him the right to smack me...did it? Slowly I pulled myself off of the couch where Scott had dragged me over to. He was now sitting on the chair, engrossed in the Chaunaks hockey game. Groaning slightly my head began to spin as I screwed my eyes up and fell back onto the couch. "Uhh..." escaped my lips as I watched the ceiling do somersaults over head.
"Cracked you really hard, huh?" Scott questioned, not taking his eyes off of the television to check if I was even still conscious. I took a deep breathe of air, hoping the world would slow down soon.
"Yah..." I spat quietly, tiny shrills of pain striking through my head as I lay there, "He really gets abusive with that hockey stick. We should put him on some kind of pill...calm him down." I glanced at my brother, he wasn't paying any attention to me anymore, he must really be into the hockey game this time. "Yeah, Clint really needs to calm down, trying to knock out your brother isn't the greatest pass time..."
"Bob, you walked right in front of his slap shot." He hates me...Clint hates me. My mind flushed as Scott rambled on, "You should have watched what you were doing...He almost took your head off." He really does want me dead...How could my identical twin want that? "Bob!?"
"Huh?" I came back down to earth to see my brother leaning over from the armchair, his legs draped over the arm. He had a worried look flushed over his features, the look that was scarcely see upon Scott's face. "W..what is it...?"
"Are you okay, man? You zoned out there for a second. Do you want me to call dad?" I stared at him amazed, this guy really did care. It kinda made me feel special to think that someone in this world was actually looking out for me, since I couldn't count on my twin anymore.
"I'm fine." I snapped bitterly, I didn't mean for it to come out that way, but Scott had taken it rather harshly. He shot me a look that was mixed with ire and anger. Huffing he turned his attention back to the game, slouching low in the seat. "Scott...I..I'm Sorry. I didn't mean for it to come out that way..."
"How about if you shut that hole in your face before I do it for you!" he barked, his eyes glaring at the television. Scott could be testy at times, but usually not this bad...I must have really deserved getting yelled at. Maybe Clint was getting inside his head and telling him lies, trying to get him to turn on me too.
Clint
Gawd, I hope I didn't hit Bob that hard...guilt was starting to set in now and it was hard to bare. Tapping the wooden hockey sick on the ground, I waited for my younger brother to smack the puck my way. "Do you think Bob's okay...?" his scared voice struck me hard, I wasn't sure if he was or not...Scott had to pratically carry him inside.
"Dave, Seriously...I didn't hit him that hard." I spat assuringly, though it didn't seem to confort him, he dropped his stick and dashed thowrds the house. Maybe I should go check on him too...I mean it was my fault. I should have made sure it was clear before swinging, I could have hit anyone...
Slowly I forced myself to go inside the house, noticing that only Scott was in the room, "Where did Bob go...?" He didn't turn to look at me, he just stared down the television, "Scott...?"
"What?!" he growled, turning around and facing.
"Ooohh...if looks could kill Scott!" I joked humourously, "you really need to learn how to keep your temper." Scott scowled at me for a second, but quickly let it drop when Dave came in the room, studying him a little too closely.
"Hey Clint, he's fine..." Dave commented, hoping over the couch and making himself confortable to watch the rest of the hockey game. The sound of tiny russles in the kitchen made me know exactly where my twin was hiding. Quickly I darted into the kitchen to find Bob searching through the cupboards.
"What you looking for?" I asked, watching him inspect all of the packages in the kitchen. He glanced at me, his eyes showed a hint of hurt. Gawd...I must have totally made him think I did it on purpose. "How about if I make you a sandwich...to make up for smacking you upside the head with the hockey stick..?"
"Alright..." I headed thowards the refrigerator to get some ingredients out for a mega sandwich. "And Clint...."
"Yes, Bob?" I questioned, stopping almost immeditally to turn around and look at his angelic face.
"Will you wear a pinny?" he giggled and flashed me a joking smile. Brothers...You can always count on them to make you smile. Escpecially Bob, he always could make everyone laugh no matter how bad they were feeling.
Scott
5...4...3.. I watched intently as number 21 sliced the ice thowrds the goal, "come on...come on." He lifted his hockey stick high, slamming it down against the puck. 2... My jaw dropped as I watched it slide across the ice and straight past the goalie...1! "Yes!" I yelped, jumping up from the arm chair that I had been lounging in.
"Oh my god..." Dave muttered from the couch, "we beat the Red Wings. Wow." I turned to my youngest sibling, a confused look stuck on my face. Didn't he think we could beat them? I shrugged and plopped back down into my seat, flipping off the television. "Hey!" Dave quickly spat.
"Do you think somethings....wrong with Bob?" he gave me an ackward look.
"Scott...Come on. Get real. He just got smacked up a little." Yeah...I guess Dave was right. He's probably just a little on the edge because of that slap shot. "He's consious anyway...its all fine."
"Dave.." I suddenly spat, my eyes growing wide, "What time is it...?" Oh my god...please don't be five.
"Ten to five." he said causually, looking at his sparkling silver watch. Shit, I'm going to be late. Springing to my feet I practically ran to the door. Snatching up my tan leather coat I yanked the door open. "Where you going so fast?" Dave questioned watching me throw on my coat.
"I'm going out." I called swiftly sliding out of the front door. Leaving Dave with a mind full of quesions...But I had to get there on time...
Clint
"Ta da!" I yelped, setting the white plate with the sandwich down in front of my twin. He looked it over cautiously, lifting the bread off the top and peeking inside. "Bob! It's good for you...I swear there is nothing gross in there!" He wiggled his nose slightly and lifted it up, taking a tiny bite.
"What's in here?" He questioned suddenly, dropping the sandwitch down onto the plate. What was wrong with it? I thought I looked pretty delicious.
"Turkey, ham, letucce, grated cheese..motziralla and cheddar, tomatoes, bits of carrots." I tried to recall everthing I had smashed together into them two pieces of bread, "Umm...peanuts are in there, and..." Gawd what did I put in there. He took another bite of the sandwich.
"Do you have Pops cereal in here?" he suddenly spat, his voice sliceing through my thoughts.
"Yes." I grinned evilly, "It wouldn't be a special Clint sandwich without my favorite cereal now would it?" Bob laughed and shook hid head slightly.
"I guess not." Suddenly Dave busted into the room, his face covered in confusion.
"Do you guys know why Scott ran out of here like a bolt of lightening?" He inquired, trying to presser us into tell him something we didn't know. Bob shook his head, a mouthful of goodies in his mouth.
"No...He probably just wanted a movie or something and wanted to make sure they all weren't gone." I suggested, scratching the back of my head slightly. I mean, it's not like Scott has a social life or something.