If you haven't already, please read Chapter 1.
Karen, at the start of chapter 1, had just turned 18; her brother Dave was 20.
*
My sister had drive.
I already mentioned that Karen had both smarts and drive. She was planning to be an architect, so she was heavy into math and science. She'd already applied for early admission at her first choice college, and was applying to several others as well.
I was heavy into "general studies." I knew that stacking boxes at a warehouse was not the career that would get me what I wanted, so I was trying to get some drive of my own. I wished I could have gotten some smarts, too. It was pretty rough going for me.
One Friday night, when I didn't have a date, I was sitting at my desk reading — and I mean
really
reading — a book of poetry for a lit paper that I had to do. I'd never been much for poetry. I was starting to enjoy it and even understand it a little, but I just couldn't get the hang of analyzing it the way the professor expected me to. I could recognize a sonnet, and tell when something was a love poem, but I guess I tended to be too literal-minded. That's why I was studying on a Friday night instead of going out with my friends. I knew I needed a head start on a hard weekend's work.
It got pretty late. I was rubbing my eyes when my sister got home. She'd been going out with some Trevor guy for a few months. I'd met him once, and he seemed like an okay dude. My sister seemed happy with him, and she hadn't come home in tears from a date, so it was all good.
I was about ready to give up for the night when my sister walked past my door and saw me.
"Hey, Dave, how come you're home on a Friday night?"
Ever since that whole "grapefruit tits" episode Karen and I had gotten closer. We'd always been friendly enough, but now it was common for us to seek each other out for conversation. We both really enjoyed those talks. Even though we were brother and sister there were lots of things we didn't know about each other. It turned out that we had a lot more in common than we'd thought, what with her being a brain and me being ... not. We talked about serious stuff, and we joked around a lot, and we shared books that we'd read.
Stopping by for a goodnight chat had become a habit, and we often hugged when we ran into each other. Those hugs were nice, but sometimes they reminded me of how that fight had started. I'd begun to notice how curvy she was under her loose outfits, and it had started to feel weird: not exactly sexual, I wasn't getting stiff or anything, but it was
not
the same as hugging Grandma. It left me feeling good but a little guilty.
Well, let's get back to my homework. I'm sure that's your favorite part of the story.
"I have to come up with something about this poetry by Monday. I have to compare and contrast a bunch of these poems, and I'm having trouble getting my head around it. I really want to do well on this paper, to keep my grades up."
"Keep your grades up? You mean you've got an 'up' to keep?"
"Oh, c'mon Karen, I work my ass off. I have to do something before Mom and Dad throw me out of the house. I don't want to live in a cardboard box."
"I'm just kidding, Dave. I've heard them talking, and they're really proud of the way you've buckled down. Let me see what you're reading."
I showed her the book. It was a collection of poems from English poets, starting with John Donne and going all the way up to Tennyson. It weighed 47 pounds.
She flipped though it and said "You aren't expected to do
all
of these, are you?"
"No. I have to pick three, from different time periods."
"Okay, let's see what you've got so far."
"What do you mean, got so far? I have the book. I picked three poems. I read them. I'll write my essay tomorrow."
"Dave, where are your
notes?"
Karen scowled at the dumb look on my face for a minute, then she yawned.
"Look, Dave, it's late and I'm tired. How about I help you with this tomorrow?"
"Would you?" I'd never asked for any help with school work from her, or anybody else. I always figured I could handle it by myself, but I was really struggling with this. "Thanks, Karen."
She went off to bed. I put the book down with a colossal thud and went to sleep.
*****
Saturday morning I crawled out of bed and went downstairs to get myself some of whatever looked edible. Mom had left some coffee in the pot, and Karen was frying eggs.
"You want any?"
"Sure." It wasn't that I couldn't cook, at a survival level, but I was lazy. Fried eggs and toast sounded a lot better than a Pop Tart, especially if someone else was doing the cooking. "I'll clean up after."
"You fuckin' better!"
After I washed the dishes and took a shower, I knocked on Karen's door. We went down to the kitchen where we could spread out.
"Dave, you've got terrible study habits. No, that's not fair. You've got
no
study habits. We're going to do this my way!"
Like I said, drive.
*****
I'd already picked three poems that I liked, so that part was done. Karen handed me a pad of paper, and had me tear off three sheets. She told me to label each sheet with the name of the author and the name of the poem, and lay them side by side on the table.
Under each title she had me write the year when the poem was written, and a couple of lines about what was going on in England at the time. She said that the societal context informed the poet's work, so it was important. That drove me to Wikipedia, but she followed me up to my room and looked over my shoulder to make sure I didn't start playing video games. That was annoying, but it made me realize that she had my back. It was a nice feeling.
Back at the kitchen table she kept asking me questions about each of the three poems in turn, and had me write down the answers on the three pieces of paper. She insisted that I answer every question, no matter how many times I said "I don't know." Before I knew it each piece of paper had grown to three, and then four. By lunch time my brain was bleeding, but I could tell I was pretty much done. All I needed was to turn my notes into a formal paper, add some kind of summary, and it would be finished.
"Shit, Karen, you made it seem so easy! I'd still be working on my first paragraph."
"You did the work, Dave. I asked the questions, you did the thinking. All I did was force you to organize it properly."
"Would you mind helping me again sometime?"
As I gathered up my papers, she came over and gave me another one of those big hugs. Then she kissed me on the cheek, and as I recovered from my startle she said "Anytime."
*****
Karen began helping me with my class work on a regular basis. She never did any of it for me, she just guided the way I did it. Not only did my grades go up, they went through the roof! I'd been a C- student when I'd started community college. Through a lot of hard work I'd gotten up to B, and I'd been on track to get my Associate's degree with no problem, but now I was an A+ student. Better yet, it seemed like the work was getting easier and easier.
I told Karen that. She smiled and said "Study habits."
*****
About two months into the semester my sister stopped by my room on her way to bed. Since my door was open, she walked in and sat on my bed. She looked serious, so I shut down the game I was playing and swiveled my chair around.
"What's up?"
"Dave, have you thought about what college you are going to transfer to?"
I didn't know if my chin really hit the floor, or if it just felt that way. I hadn't even considered the idea!
"Dave, you have to choose quickly if you expect to be admitted for next year."
"I didn't think I was going to transfer. I guess I figured this was it, I'd go out and get a full time job of some kind."
"Why do you think I've been helping you? An Associate's is an Associate's, you could have done that on your own. This is about going to a four-year college, and grad school after that."
Now I
knew
