I'm 3 years older than he is and it seemed from the beginning that we were destined to not get along. Just a few weeks after he was born, my mom decided to have a yard sale to get rid of some of the clutter before we moved into a bigger house. For some reason, she had decided to sell my little plastic grocery store/kitchenware set (you know, little pots, pans, groceries, etc., all Barbie-accessory-sized). Naturally, I blamed my little brother for this atrocity so I tried to sell him to another little girl for a quarter. I figured that if she bought him, she couldn't afford my toys. Seemed reasonable to me but my mom was pissed! I got banished into the house and spent the rest of the day tearing toilet paper into little strips and dropping them into the toilet. And then trying to flush the evidence. I'll admit that wasn't one of my brighter ideas.
Anyway, Scotty and I fought like hell for years! I stomped on his Knight Rider Kit car and destroyed it, he found my diary and quoted it at me, I hit him in the knee with a baseball bat, he threw steak knives at me. He stole my hair brush and locked himself in his room so I decided to kick the door in and go after it. I had this theory that it would work just like it does on tv - you kick in the general region of the doorknob, the door flies open, you get your hairbrush back. Simple. Yeah, not so much. My aim sucks now and it sucked then - I missed the doorknob but manged to kick in the entire bottom half of the door. Good times when my parents came home. He paid me back for that one by throwing the tv remote at me and hitting me in the eyebrow - I still have a dent there where it hit, I swear.
We drove my poor mom crazy. She swore that some day I'd appreciate having each other and she wished that we'd stop fighting. Yeah right.
Until my brother hit high school. We grew up (and still live in, in fact) a small town. There were 3 high schools in the county at the time, housing grades 7 through 12. They've since been consolidated and we have a more typical division of grades. Once I'd left grade school I didn't have to deal with Scotty much, just at home. Even when he was at the same school, upperclassmen were strictly forbidden to go anywhere near the 7th and 8th grade halls. That suited me just fine. But when he hit his freshman year, I was a senior. So there we were, roaming the same halls.
The first day of class, I wandered to the cafeteria at lunch time and grabbed my usual table with my friends. I got through the line and wandered back over to our table. I looked over and saw my brother sitting in the hall with his tea and cookies. No problem really, except that he was sitting at the row of lockers where the jocks habitually hung out at lunch. I just knew this wasn't going to go well. I could just see it in my head: the jocks would come over and razz the non-jock freshman and I'd have to break bat on the football team (I would've tried anyway. It's the thought that counts and all that. I did manage to stuff one of them in a locker one time but that's a story for a different time). The coach wouldn't like that at all. So I walked down the hall and told Scotty that he should really come sit at our table to eat his lunch. He argued with me (typical brother - you try to save his ass and he gives you lip about it); said he was only going to eat his cookies and drink his tea and then go sneak a smoke out behind the building with his friends. But I insisted and prodded until he gave in. He wasn't at our table more than 10 minutes but I felt like my job was done.
I had band practice that night so I really didn't think much more about it until I got home. Mom was on the porch waiting on me when I pulled into the drive. She said something to the effect of "Your brother told me an interesting story today." I sat down with her and said "What?" She said "He had the most shell-shocked look on his face when he got home so I asked him what was wrong. He said 'Mom, you won't believe it but Amy actually insisted that I sit with her at lunch.' Is that true?" So I explained my reasons to her. basically ending with "He's my brother - I have the blood rights to pick on him all I want to but no one else does."
Somehow, from that day on, we were friends. He sat with me and my friends every day at lunch. I started driving him home from school without being bribed to. I learned to appreciate his music and he stopped stealing my diary. Next thing we knew, we were working together and going to concerts together. We still give each other hell from time to time and we never hesitate to curse each other out when one of us needs it. But I've always got his back and I know that he does the same for me. We never really talk about it but we both remember the day that everything changed for us.
I guess my mom was right. But please don't tell her - she'll never let me live it down! =)