Zoe warns him not to. He’s always wrecking her things and she’s had enough. There was the colouring book that’s now a scribble of various blues. There was her favourite marble, white and gold, last seen plopping through the grill of the drain. Then there was Tigger, hurled across the room, and how he ended with a splash in the potty. He’s been through the washing machine several times but has lost an eye, and Zoe could still smell pee.
She’s sure her brother does it on purpose, even though Mum leaps to his defence.
“Don’t be mean, Zoe. Let him play. He can’t help that he’s younger than you.”
But it isn’t his age that bothers her; it’s the stupid way he behaves. It’s the stupid way her mum acts when he’s around, and how Zoe always gets the blame.
She digs her hands into her new box of Lego and prays to the Lego gods. For once, please, please don’t let him ruin things.
Mum rushes over when she sees them side-by-side. “Zoe, you know he’s too young for those small pieces. I thought you understood that after the near miss with the marble.”
Zoe glares at her mum’s back as he’s whisked away.
She creates a makeshift Lego wand and waves it at the warm spot where he was sitting. There’s a swirl of blue smoke and a pop. A Lego boy appears, head, hair and blue top. No legs or arms, far too much trouble. At least this time she can blame the Lego gods. But she’s relieved he’s still smiling. She never means to be unkind.