It was Sunday morning, and I grew frustrated trying to figure out the Rubik’s Cube. Dad was banging vigorously on our door, trying to wake us up.
‘Get out of bed, you two. We’ll be late for church,’ was the cry through the door.
Dad then banged pots and pans together, making one hell of a racket. Lucy and I shared a room. It never bothered me. I mean, I was fifteen months older, but she could be such a spoiled, demanding brat. She always seemed to be up to no good or mischief, an opportunist. I dragged myself out of bed.
‘Come on, Lucy, get up,’ I said.
Shaking her head, Lucy replied, ‘Nick off, Archie, ya wanker.’ She rolled to her side.
‘Lucy, wake up. Dad will spew at ya.’ I gave her another shake.
‘I’m sick,’ she moaned.
‘Yeah, sick in the head, lazy bitch.’ I gave her a flick i
