일 one

일

one

"Sorry but, like, why is your sister so weird?" My best friend asks, her face a mask of concern that makes me uneasy.

"Steph, please." I didn't even bother to look up from the enthralling world of Junior Algebra. I've become used to my friends' opinions of my little sister to the point that I can't even be offended.

"Sorry."

I shrug.

"Does she really like that stuff?"

"Knowing Emily, if she really didn't like it, she wouldn't even be into it." I tap the textbook. "C'mon, focus."

Stephanie shakes her head. "It's hard to concentrate with all that gibberish. Why would you listen to songs in a different language?"

"Dad listens to Spanish songs."

"Dude, your dad is Spanish. I meant, who listens to, to... whatever language that is."

"Korean?"

The "Duh" face again. "Yeah, I mean here in America." She jabs an index at me. "And don't say Korean Americans."

I grin. "Emily and a few million girls like her, of course."

"In Clinton, Connecticut?" Stephanie persists.

This time I have to think about it. Probably not, I decide.  

Stephanie works her phone and 5 Seconds of Summer's epic riffs fill the room, dampening the bass and matching thumps leaking through the vent from all the way in the basement.

"There, good old American music."

"Um, they're Australian." I remind her without looking up from my notes.

She waves her hand. "No one likes a wise ass, Brooke. Damn, I can still hear her dancing,"

I detect a note of awe in her voice.

"That's probably why she's got those killer legs. Right?"

"She also does lacrosse and soccer, you know." I point out.

Stephanie looks incredulous. "We do too and look at these!" She points at her toned thighs. "Flab city!"

I laugh. "Yea right."

"Okay, maybe not, but next to your sister, I'm a cow."

I'm surprised at the surge of pride I feel. At only 14 years of age, Emily Amaya puts the Senior dance squad to shame. "She works hard."

"You sure she's your sister?"

I laugh and add enough sarcasm in my voice. "I've never been asked that before."

Stephanie chuckles. "Seriously. You're tall and willowy, olive skin, dark hair. She is so different than you."

Her remarks give me pause. I can't say I haven't wondered myself. Most siblings I know share some physical traits but not Emily and me. I've always thought that Emily was born with Mom's German Irish traits with the exception of her height. That one I got, much to my basketball coach's delight. My little sister is actually Elvin in her features as well as size. Her hair is practically blonde, though it's gone through a few different bright hues over the past year.

"Is she listening to a new one or is that the same one from before. They all sound the same." 

Stephanie looks like she's about to launch into another rant but her phone chimes and she hurries to it.

"O. M. G. Charlie's asking if we want to meet at the library!"

"To study, right?"

Her smile is decidedly feline. "Of course. I bet you Matt will be there too."

I blink and raise an eyebrow at her.

"Brooke, you are ice, girl." Stephanie rolls her blue eyes. "Can I borrow your yellow top?" She disappears into my closet without waiting for a reply.

I can only blow a stubborn strand of hair off my face and fix my pony tail. Steph will insist on putting me through some new process she's seen on YouTube but she'll have to be satisfied with a bit of my trusty lip balm. I'm not the one hunting for a boy.

We bring our bags more as a prop than anything so Mom won't question our sudden urge to get to the library. After the awkward kiss and agreement to her many different "be careful's", we make our way to the garage through the basement where Emily's music is much louder.

"Cats screeching," Stephanie whispers in a chuckle.

I merely hum in agreement as I grab my jacket. When I look back, Stephanie is no longer right behind me. She stands at the door to Emily's inner sanctum, what was once supposed to be Dad's estrogen-free zone until Emily took it over to convert it into a shrine to her music.

Korean rap floods the foreground of the melody. It's actually good. It'd be better if I somehow understood it, but it most definitely flows to the beat. The words have the feel of physical emotions thrown at my face and combined with the music, the effect is profound enough to give me goose bumps.

"Damn, that's actually pretty good," Stephanie seems to read my mind. "Would she mind if we saw her?"

A warning dies in my throat as I reach for her arm, but she already has the door open.

Emily's body rolls as she slides low into an intricate combination of arms, head, and hip movements under careful scrutiny against the full length mirror. She's graceful, fast, fluid. It suddenly occurs to me that I'm holding my breath.

Sensing us, Emily stops in her tracks. Sweating from head to toe, her eyes stare back at us shocked for one second before they fill with red hot fury.

"Oh my God, Em, you're really good!" Stephanie offers a smile but when she glances back at me, her eyes have that oh shit look I know so well.

Emily ignores her and calmly walks to her desk to pause the song. She seems to take a moment to compose herself and levels her eyes at me as she crosses her arms. Whenever her face looks this stone cold, my insides turn to water.

"You guys can't read or something?" Emily barks.

I shake my head, not knowing what to say.

"It's my fault," Stephanie squeaks. "The song was cool, I just thought I'd take a peek. You know how nosy I can be. You're really good."

The look on Emily's face is enough to stop Stephanie from taking another step.

"I'm really sorry, Em. We were just leaving." I hope the tone of my voice conveys enough of an apology. In response, Emily glares and gestures with her face and hand with an expression that says why are you still here? "C'mon, Steph. We gotta go."

Stephanie starts uttering another apology but she quickly walks out to the garage instead. I'm about to apologize once more but Emily slams the door in my face. I can't be too upset. Five different pieces of paper emphatically deny entrance.

Music begins to play. The bass is so booming and deep, I can feel it in my rib cage. My mind conjures an array of fine insults, but she'd only call me something worse and I've grown tired of such uncomfortable moments.

After a few deep breaths, I slide behind the wheel knowing I'll have to mollify Stephanie.

"Yea... I don't  know. Sorry."

"Well, you weren't the bitch just now," Stephanie growls, clearly wounded. "Is she always such an obnoxious assh-"

I start the engine to cut her off.

"I mean, what was that about? What's the point of doing performance arts if you're not going to perform to an audience?."

"I know, she'll be okay."

When we park, Stephanie is not quick to get out of the car, defying my expectation. Instead, she stares at me as though fearful of voicing her thoughts. "What's the matter?"

"Brooke, is she always that pissed off when someone barges in on her?"

Something in her blue gaze bothers me. "Wouldn't you be?" I throw the question back a bit too quickly.

"Well, probably," Stephanie says after a moment. "But I wouldn't look at them like I wanted to murder them, you know?"

The chill along my neck has nothing to do with the winter air.

"Is she usually like that?"

"She's just crabby. Probably had another bad day. You know?"

Steph seems to accept the feeble excuse. "Oh, okay. Lesson learned then. Next time, I'll try to make an appointment with little miss diva." She shakes her head then looks at me with a beaming smile. "Ready?" She checks her blonde waves before leaping out of the car and kicks the door shut behind her.

The slam brings to my mind the look on Emily's face as she threw her door at me.

Furious.

Indignant.

Betrayed.

"Emily's not often like that," I say to no one as a tear runs down my cheek. A feeling of loss crashes like frigid, gust driven waves over me. "Just all the time." Tears well in my eyes.

Stephanie waves at me from the entrance to the library, but I only move when the smile on her face is replaced by that same mask of concern she had earlier in my room.

...why is your sister so weird...

Continue on Chapter 2

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Growing up, Brooke Amaya often heard people remark on just how different her little sister is.

Different in every way, from clothes to music and everything in between, none of those differences compare to the ones in their lives as teenagers.

At 17, Brooke is familiar with the ebbs and flows of puberty, hormones, and the typical teenage convoluted bundle of feelings notorious for healing and wounding with equal measure. However, she never felt, or witnessed the destructive emotional maelstrom that takes a hold of Emily when she starts high school.

As her parents and teachers struggle to help Emily's worsening attitude, Brooke finds herself as the only one left to battle the dark emotions that are intent on destroying her little sister, those around them, and possibly even herself.



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intro      chapter 1      chapter 2

My Two Flags Foreword by Acclaimed Author Monica La Porta

Foreword

As seen on My Two Flags Vol. 1 I pledge allegiance...

Sometimes, what looks like the end of a journey is the beginning of a lifelong experience. Anybody who left their motherland for America, seeking betterment in life wears the emotional scar that comes with that decision.

After the spellbinding roller coasters of The Gaze and The Next Chapter, author Javier A. Robayo has delved into the depth of cultural alienation.

http://www.javierrobayoauthor.com/my-two-flags.html

In My Two Flags, Tony Amaya, a teenager from Ecuador, leaves a wealthy life to move to America with his family, only to find himself the victim of endless acts of bullying. Unable to express his feelings and unwilling to burden his parents with the truth of what his life has become, Tony struggles to belong. 

Chilling at times and heartbreaking at others, My Two Flags will force you to reflect on social issues and what it means to be The Other when you are only thirteen, and can't speak a word of English.

Monica La Porta

About Monica La Porta

A quintessential modern renaissance woman, Italy's own Monica La Porta is a sculptor, an accomplished artist, as well as an author of Sci-Fi epics like The Ginecean Chronicles, a dystopian series set on the planet Ginecea, where women rule over a race of enslaved men and heterosexual love is considered a sin. Monica has published the first three books in the series, The Priest, Pax in the Land of Women, and Prince at War. She also wrote and illustrated a children's book about the power of imagination, The Prince's Day Out. Her latest published short, Linda of the Night, is a fairy tale love story celebrating inner beauty. Stop by monicalaporta.com to read about her miniature, sculptures, paintings, and her beloved beagle, Nero. Sometimes, she also posts about her writing. .

Find Monica's compelling work at: 

 AMAZON