Status Quo

By Rosemarie DiCristo

“If it bugs you so much,” I said, “why you don’t just levitate my stuff back to its proper place?”

“Because,” Steven shouted, “I actually use my powers for good. I don’t levitate things to clean up your messes, you—”

Expletive deleted.

Yeah, I often provoke that sort of reaction from my kid brother. It’s a skill I’ve carefully honed. I plunked my feet on my desk, flashed a mile-wide grin, and watched him storm from our room.

Or try to. Because his feet hit the knapsack full of schoolbooks that I’d invisibled instead of shelving, and he face-planted onto the hardwood floor.

“Beale, someday I’m gonna… Aarggh!” He’d leapt up to storm out again but skidded on the invisibled jeans I’d dumped next to the knapsack.

Yep. Another face-plant.

“Mom!” Steven yelled as he scrambled up and headed for the kitchen. “He’s doing it again!”

But I heard the zzzish indicating Mom had teleported herself away—to Starbucks, probably. Her way of dealing with our never-ending battles.

“Seriously.” I joined Steven in the kitchen, where he was chomping down a plate of oatmeal-raisin cookies like it was me his teeth were grinding. “I get that you hate sharing a room with ‘a pig,’” I threw in some aggressive air quotes. “And I admit I leave my stuff lying around, but you can’t see it. Why is that not okay?”

“Because I still know it’s there. And your stuff is everywhere. Where would I start? Levitate it to the recycling bin, maybe.”

“Yeah, yeah. Broken record.”

“One of these days, Beale,” he muttered.

“Bang, zoom, straight to the moon?” I said helpfully.

“Huh?”

“If you’re going to use the Honeymooners reference… Never mind. I’m just saying. You always threaten things. You never do.”

His eyes glittered, but again, he didn’t do anything… except abruptly stride out to the stoop.

Curious, I followed.

“Cookie?” He offered me the plate he’d carried out.

I glanced at them. Well, he couldn’t have poisoned them in fifteen seconds. Besides, that was Dad’s power. “Sure. Why not?”

But when I reached for one, the plate went zooming sky high.

“Oh. Ha ha. That was a waste of good—Yaaagh!”

Steven had raised both hands and suddenly I was zooming sky high. Then plummeting to Earth. Then shooting up. Then rocketing down. Over and over in a lurching, stomach-dropping rush that tugged at my clothing and made me glad I hadn’t taken a cookie. Worse, St. Catharine’s Academy, a girls’ school, was down the block. If the school let out that moment… Man, I didn’t want them seeing me like that.

“Okay… Steven… you… made… your… point…” I puffed.

But he sent me up and down, ferociously, five more times. Then he paused me, midair, about six feet above him, so he could gloat in my face.

Big mistake.

I did a “Hocus Pocus Dominocus” gesture with my hands—at my age, not necessary, but I like a bit of flair—and instantly made his clothes invisible.

Harsh? Yeah, not sorry. We brothers have been battling since Day One. Sometimes enough is enough. Plus, St. Catharine’s did let out right then, and Williamsbridge Road swarmed with girls.

Steven’s only fourteen and has to use his hands to tap into his power, but right now his hands were covering his, um, you know.

Relishing the hoots and whistles of the girls, I took my sweet time before offering, “I’ll restore your clothing if you…”

“Stop levitating you.”

“Yup.”

His face was beet red. He nodded and, with a feeble one-handed wave, dropped me clumsily to the sidewalk. Without moving, I zapped back his crummy jeans, sweatshirt, and everything else, then said with delicious glee, “So. About my invisibled messes. Back to the status quo?”

Steven didn’t reply, just stomped indoors.

I allowed myself to savor the three cookies that remained after the batch had rocketed to Neptune and back before following him inside and sauntering to our room.

Wait, what? Had I made my bedding invisible instead of pulling up the comforter? I felt for it. No comforter. No sheets. No mattress. Nothing but the box spring, which I could plainly see and feel. And why were my closet and drawers wide open—and empty?

“Oh, Beale…” Steven sing-songed from the bathroom.

I heard water running. I gulped and scurried in. There, in the bathtub, with the shower gushing full blast, were my comforter, the sheets, the mattress, all my clothes…

“Now”—Steven’s grin was evil—“we’ll go back to the status quo.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rosemarie DiCristo has published many short stories for kids and teens. She actually attended the girls’ school mentioned in this story, but never saw any naked boys. However, in college she led an incoming-freshman tour into the dorm room of a football player who’d just come out of the shower, with a washrag covering his, um, you know.

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