My little sister, Olivia, stood right in front of my view of the television. I frowned at her. She just stood there.
"What do you want?" I grumbled.
"Breakfast," she grinned.
"Well you're not getting any," I said, moving her away.
She moved back, still smiling. "I'm hungry."
"But I might starve!"
"Like I said, tough." I moved her again. She moved back. I tried this three more times, and each time she just went back to her position in front of me. "Go away, Olivia!"
She frowned. "Not until you get me breakfast."
"You can have breakfast when I get breakfast! Just leave me alone a minute!" I shoved her away again.
Olivia turned and took the remote control from the sideboard, then began clicking random buttons. The channels changed rapidly, as did the volume.
"Get me breakfast!" she yelled over the noise.
"No, Olivia! Go away!" I shouted straight back at her. I grabbed her hand and snatched the remote from her, before shoving her so hard she fell over.
"Ouwwwwch!" she moaned tearfully. I glared at her and she pouted. "I'm telling Mum."
"Oh, God. I'm so scared," I said in a monotone. She folded her arms as she started to cry. "Shut up, I know you're not hurt."
She ran upstairs. I sighed loudly and turned the TV back to the channel I was watching. After a few minutes, the sound of people walking could be heard above me. Then someone came downstairs.
"Amber," Mum said sternly. "Why did you push Olivia?"
"I didn't," I lied without taking my eyes from the television. Mum turned it off.
"Why couldn't you just get her some breakfast? It wouldn't kill you."
"She can do it herself. She's done it before."
Mum frowned and folded her arms. "Amber, she is five years old!"
"You know what? Forget it. I'm going back to bed!" I stormed upstairs and slammed my bedroom door. Parents could be so unfair sometimes.