I was just finishing packing up the last of my combat weapons when my younger brother, Timme, came storming in.
I sighed. "What do you want, Timme? Shouldn't you be at dinner?"
"I already ate," he said in his arrogant voice. "Shouldn't you be down there?"
"I was just heading down," I say, voice steely. "Why are you here?"
Timme's eyes, flashing with anger a minute ago, dimmed slightly. He had lost his nerve. I could almost always put him in his place just by hardening my voice. "I-I just wanted to tell you that there's another young winger here."
"Cool," I said uncaringly. I turned around so he wouldn't see the shock on my face. Sure, I'd acted like I didn't give a damn about some young winger, but really, I was surprised. There usually wasn't more than one of us at a time at the school.
"Well," Timme said, "I guess I should get going. Bye." Then he sauntered out of the room.
I turned back around and ran my hand through my black hair. I saw it fall back into place in front of my eyes. I could tell already it would be a long year.