9. Gabby

Monday started like any typical Monday.

Sucky.

I found a dried coffee spill on my work uniform I hadn’t noticed before putting it on, my name tag was missing, and I burned my morning toast while working on my skirt’s stain.

Damn stains.

Then there was Miguel, who begged to stay home from school, claiming he was still sick, even though he’d acted perfectly healthy the entire day before and he didn’t have a fever anymore.

So I was forced to put up with his arguing and begging and general butt-headedness after I told him he was going to class.

Becoming the big, bad sister, I had to get him to eat his breakfast, check his sugar levels, clean his insulin pump, put on fresh school clothes—and underwear—brush his teeth, find his book bag. And his shoes. It was a wonder I didn’t have to argue with him to take every freaking breath he inhaled.

Fourth graders could be so irritatingly helpless when they didn’t want to do something. Then again, so could adult men.

Because, during all that,