Girls Can’t


“Girls can’t…” my little brother begins to say as he stands there in his red and white jersey. He’s holding a baseball bat in one hand and a ball too large for his small hands in the other.
“Stop saying that!” I yell, interrupting him. “Is that all you know how to say? Girls can’t do this, girls can’t do that.””Well you can’t!” he yells back.
“Seriously?” I ask in disgust. “How many times am I going to have to out play you before you stop telling me how bad I am?”
“You don’t out play me!” he cries.
“Who tackled who in football yesterday?” I demand.
He sticks his tongue out at me. “You just got lucky,” he says.
“That’s it!” I cry. I grab him by the jersey and through him onto the couch beside me. I pin him down, making sure he can’t go anywhere, before I…

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