Badminton

My sister and I had a badminton set when we were little. If you don't know what badminton is, just picture the mutated offspring of volleyball, tennis and frills and you have badminton.

My sister loved to play badminton because she always won. I hated playing because I always lost. Since I was the only other child in the house most of the time, and also because she could easily beat me up, I was designated her badminton opponent. Most of the time, being a loser wasn't that bad. In fact, it prepared me for much of my adult life.

Badminton wasn't that terrible though. It was much better than our usual games of Push You Down the Stairs Until You Cry and Push You Into The Creepy Crawl Space Beneath The Stairs. 

Every summer, the badminton net would mysteriously sprout up in our yard like some unwelcome weed. And then the games began. There was no chance of escape.

Sometimes I would struggle, but then I faced more violent games and broken toys.

One day I thought up a brilliant scheme that would get me out of badminton.

My plan was simple. I would serve the birdie, and while she was distracted, I would run back into the house and lock the door. By the time she would realize I was gone, I'd be watching her from the window, protected from her fury. Nothing could possibly go wrong. Or so I thought.

Everything was going smoothly. She didn't suspect a thing.

Meanwhile, my sister realized what I'd done faster than I thought she would...

You see, I had broken the rules. I was the younger sister, and so was not allowed to outsmart those older than me. She believed I was put on Earth to serve her. For all I knew, this was true. In fact, I have it on good authority that my parents only had me so my sister would have someone to play with, like a toy.

Anyway, I had disrupted the natural order and I would pay with my life. I can only imagine what she was thinking: "Who does this worm think she is? Trying to escape playing with me? ME?! I will make an example of her so that all little sisters everywhere will know the consequence of trying to get out of playing with their big sisters. I WILL DESTROY HER!!!"

I was sure she would kill me if she caught me. I'd never tried to trick her this bad before, and she would make sure I would never have another chance. This was it. She was really going to kill me, and she'd have plenty of time to make it look like an accident...

The door glowed before me. I was almost there. There was still hope. I had to slip in and lock the door. I practiced the movement in my head. Slip in. Lock. Slip in. Lock. She'd be outside. I'd be safely inside, alive. I'd run to my parents as there was a good chance they wouldn't allow her to kill me.

I opened the door. I'm pretty sure I heard angels singing. I was in...

She'd caught up to me. I think I blacked out for a moment because when I woke up my sister's face hung over me, looking worried. I began to cry, not because it hurt, but because I had been so scared that she was going to kill me and realized then that she was really very capable of seriously injuring me. I hoped my mom would hear my cries and save me.

Crying meant someone got hurt. When someone got hurt, it was likely that my sister would get into trouble. My sister couldn't afford to get in trouble. She had just gotten paroled from the last time we played Push You Out Of The Treehouse, and she wasn't going back. This piddling little sister would not get her in trouble.

Mom discovered us, and asked us what we were doing. My sister said we were still playing. I agreed. My sister and I shared a room, and as she had already used a door as a weapon, I was fairly certain she knew how to use a pillow. I valued my small life too much to ever dare to trick her again.

That was how I failed to get out of playing badminton that summer. 

And also why I'm a little dyslectic.

Disclaimer: My sister claims that this was not entirely how things went. This may be true. Ever since she slammed my head in a door, I haven't been able to remember a lot of things.