I admit that there was a time in my life when I hated my brothers. Especially, my older brother, Zach, He was 13 months older than me. As an elementary school kid, he loved making fun of his little sister: me. While Zach and I got along sometimes, we more often fought. The fighting only stopped after my parents threatened to punish us. But this never solved anything in the long term, and even though it stopped the fighting for the moment, my anger just kept growing.
Toward the end of middle school, we both began collecting Pokemon cards. We saw Pokemon cards as a sort of status (地位) symbol whoever had better cards was the stronger, better, cooler person. It became a collecting competition, and every weekend the neighborhood kids and Zach and I would gather to trade or show off our cards.
As I remember, it was impossible to know what cards you would get; it was the luck of the draw. So, it was to my great disappointment and envy when Zach got a holographic (全息图的) Charizard one weekend. Charizard was one of the rarest. The way I saw it, if you got a Charizard card you were basically the king of the world, and if you got a holographic Charizard card, you were the king of the universe. Zach had just won the ultimate jackpot (头奖).
One night, Zach wasn’t feeling well. He went to bed with a stomachache. In the middle of the night, he awoke, crying from being in so much pain. I went over to see what was happening. My parents came rushing over and second s later, Zach vomited (呕吐) all over his room; on to the carpet, himself, and. . . the magical Charizard card! My parents immediately took him into the bathroom to get him cleaned up and near a toilet in case he had to vomit any more.
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I was left in his room, my heart pounding wildly — what about the messy card?
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Zach did thank me and I felt our relationship softened a bit afterwards.
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