“I don’t think Sonia should be leader.” He confidently announced to Ms Eva one afternoon. She stared at him in utter confusion, unsure of how to respond.

“Why do you think that Sam?”

“She damaged school equipment so carelessly! And is taking no responsibility in compensating for it!”

“What makes you think that? She is taking full responsibility for the damages.”

“She’s also been really difficult to work with, and it is damaging morale.”

“Thank you Sam, for your concerns. I’ll take them into consideration, is there anything else?”

He hesitated for a second. “No.”

“Ok.”

He prayed upon a wishing star that this would be the start of his grand return to his position. Now all he needed was the unanimous support of the club to seal his victory over her. The atmosphere in the club somehow grew tighter, with barely any words spoken except for Sonia’s orders. Max handed in a form and bid his farewells yesterday.

A few other students followed his lead and reported Sonia too about her incompetence, which finally sealed the deal for Ms Eva at the end of the week when she pulled Sonia away mid-filming for a talk. From her various expressions, he could tell things were going according to plan, until he saw her wipe a tear away. A pang of doubt cast over him, was he hurting her? But why would she be hurt, she never liked the film club at all to begin with, or at least not anymore.

Ms Eva then came to brief everyone on the situation, indicating Sonia had personal matters that weighed her down, resulting in her difficult personality. Sam began to regret reporting her, but the other members would’ve done so irregardless of him, and that would’ve already been more than enough for Ms Eva to signal a change in leadership.

“I will be conducting interviews with all of you one by one to determine who would be the most suited to be the leader of the film club. Except you Sam, and you know why.”

His rage returned in a split second, “But that was so long ago, why is the punishment still in effect? I should be given a fair chance like everyone else to apply for leadership.”

Ms Eva seemed to agree with his point, “I’ll discuss this with the discipline committee. But it would be best if you tell them what you think yourself.”

“Ok.” Surging with confidence at the first sign of victory, he had no problem tackling the discipline committee.

**

With increasing micro-aggressions from his father about his uncle, despite only meeting him for weekend lunches, his Uncle finally caved and dragged himself down for dinner. Sam relayed the story his father told him on the way there, which was met with a reaction less than positive, “What B-S!” He laughed. “Oh, what a hero, saving his mate from the sun. Sounds like the plot of a movie I’ll never direct, don’t listen to him Sam. He was just trying to protect his face and make himself sound like… freaking Superman. If you knew him, you’d know he isn’t that great. It’s all a show he put on for you and Joe to be some role model or something.”

“But he was like… about to cry. I don’t think he’s lying. What actually happened? He said the army covered it up, so maybe what you read from the news was-”

“I didn’t read it from the news, because I was there. We were in the same platoon. We were both doing drills that afternoon.”

“Oh.” His father sounded less and less credible with each passing day. “Ok. Are you two just gonna argue with each other?”

“Depends on him.” His father answered the exact same thing when he asked the day before.

“I don’t want you to fight in front of Joe. He’s still young.”

“Me neither.”

He groaned at the obvious lie. The two brothers couldn’t wait to fight, flashing their devil’s tooth at the mere thought of each other.

They exchanged no words with each other, only giving a slight nod to acknowledge each other’s existence. His Uncle wanted to bring the family out for dinner at a nearby restaurant, but his Dad simply wanted to eat takeout food at home. Immediately, the two were already in conflict.

“Ok, go take a shower and wear something nice, we’re going out for dinner.” His Uncle said.

“What? Really?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I made a reservation, if we leave now we can make it in time, let’s go.”

“I already made dinner.” His Dad rebutted.

His Uncle towered over the table of takeout boxes and offered a look of disgust, “It’s a Michelin star restaurant. Do you know what that means Joe?”

“What!” Joe asked, eyes sparkling with awe.

“It means they serve the best food in the world.”

His Dad gave a piercing stare with lips curled, took a breath, and sat down. “Time for dinner Joe, I got you your favourite, french fries!”

“Yay!” Joe cheered.

“Where’s your vegetables Joe?” His Uncle asked.

Joe pointed to the sad lump of coleslaw on the side. Sam avoided it like the plague, and his stomach churns at the thought of how carelessly it was prepared.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” His father warned, pulling in his chair with unnecessary strength.

They began eating in suffocating silence. His Uncle picks a french fry and examines it like a newly discovered chemical element. His eyes scanned the food, and he softly poked it with his fork, then cut it open to observe its interior.

“It’s edible.” His Dad commented.

His Uncle frowned in disagreement, and pushed it aside. “Sam, you wanna go eat at the restaurant, we can still make it if we drive faster.”

“Sam, don’t waste food, you’re eating dinner here, you can go eat with him tomorrow.” As if.

“Really?” Sam folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. The childish rivalry ate up all his appetite. He sighed, wondering why the two would ever want to meet each other.

“Unless you want to reheat this and eat it for dinner tomorrow?”

“Won’t it spoil?” His Uncle asked, still hung up on the lumpy french fries.

“It takes three days before it spoils.” His Dad chomped on a spoon full of rice.

“Really? How do you know that?” His Uncle put down his fork and called for his attention. “You know, your father is really smart, his head is filled with random bits of information like this, I mean- how does he know all this?”

His Dad seemed like he wanted to respond, but decided not to. The kettle continued boiling.

“Hey Ash, remember that time you found a reservoir where you can shower at for free?”

His Dad simply focused on his dinner, uninterested in his Uncle’s petty insults. His Uncle snickered, mentally calculating which button he’d push next. Joe finished his dinner, and ran off. Sam followed after, promising he would eat it for dinner tomorrow.

His Uncle sat beside Sam, pretending to fight zombies with machine guns. His Dad sat on the couch, violently flipping a page of a newspaper. Sam sighed, pouring a cup of water for Joe. “How are things between you and Jane?” His father asked.

“How are things between you and Rose?” His Uncle replied.

“Fine. You?”

“Fine. We had our anniversary yesterday.”

His Dad chuckled, flipping another page. Sam wondered if he was even reading it.

“Pew! Bang bang bang bang!” Joe pointed a finger gun at his Uncle.

“Joe, do you know what NS is?”

“Army!”

His Dad flinched a little, and Sam saw a glint in his Uncle’s eyes. This spelled disaster to him.

“Do you know that you can actually hold real guns in the army? And shoot down targets!”

“Do I get to shoot zombies?”

“Well, targets are like zombies who don’t move. So kind of! But, only the good boys in the army get to fire guns, so when you serve, remember to be a good cadet, okay? And always listen to your sergeant.”

“What’s a sergeant?”

His Dad slammed his newspaper down.

“What?” His Uncle threw his hands up.

He wagged his head in disappointment. “Since you don’t wanna eat dinner, you can go now.”

“Oh? But Sam said you wanted me here.”

“And you are, now you can go.”

“So you called me down just so I could…eat…?” His Uncle couldn’t find the words to describe the horrendous quality of the food. Sam began to regret not bailing with his Uncle for Michelin-star food, if the reservation was real, that is.

“I called you down to see if you grew up.”

“Good one.”

His Dad got up, and purposely bumped his knee against his Uncle’s head. His Uncle’s veins rose to the surface. Who’s the pettier one amongst the two, he wondered? “Oh yeah. One more question before you go. How’s work going?”

“Good. I finished directing a film recently, you should watch it.” He nudged Sam’s shoulder, which hurt more than he intended.

“Still on track to be promoted to director?”

“Wait… what?” Sam lost all colour.

“He’s an assistant director.”

Sam craned his head towards his Uncle, “But you said you’re a director.”

“Sam, assistant director is still a big deal, I’m number-two. I’m basically the supervisor.”

“Do you make any of the creative decisions?” He drowned in adrenaline, fists surging with the urge to punch out a front tooth.

“Well, if I have an idea, I can tell the director through a meeting-”

“Oh! So you’re just like Honey or Sonia? You just tell the director and beg that he approves your idea? You don’t control anything?”

“I am still very important to the production Sam.”

“So you didn’t direct all those films then?” In the corner of his eye, he saw his Dad grinning, but couldn’t care less of it right now.

“I was a major-”

“So it’s not yours? None of it is yours? You basically did nothing! You’re basically useless!”

“Sam, watch your tongue. Don’t speak to your Uncle like that. You don’t want him to Hulk out on you.” His Dad grinned wider.

“Oh, oh, I’m the Hulk, interesting, interesting. Hey, how’s your friend Ming doing?”

Out of the blue, his father shot up, slamming the table in full force. Joe immediately ran upstairs for refuge, and Sam stood uncomfortably between them both. His Dad charges towards his Uncle and grabs him by the collar.

“Sam, Sam, look! Hulk smash! Hulk angry when Hulk thinks of Ming! Grr!” His Uncle continued pressing.

His Dad said nothing.

“Go on, tell him what actually happened.”

“You only read it from the news, they covered up what actually happened.” Sam corrected.

“Is that what he told you?” His Uncle revealed devil fangs. “So I’m assuming Ming is healthy and safe right now, happily married to his wife right?”

“For someone who wasn't there, you talk quite a lot about it.” His Dad said, turning the tables with one sentence.

“You said you were.” Sam said. Who lied to him?

“You lied to Sam? Oh, how could you.” His Dad said. “What kind of role model are you setting for your- oh- nevermind.”

“He shouted at his sergeant and got his own buddy killed!” His Uncle barked.

“No! I saved him! He’s still alive.”

“Not much of him remaining.”

“People change!”

“Clearly.” His Uncle rolled his eyes and shoved his father back. His father returned with a stronger shove, and his uncle retaliated with an even stronger shove.

“Get out of my house.” His Dad commanded. Sam could see fear in his Uncle’s eyes as the rosy image of his idol came crumbling. Both of them were the furthest things from admirable now, and he wondered how he was duped by them for so long. Dumb idotic young Sam gobbling up all the lies the two fed him, believing all their heroic feats like believing propaganda. Being a descendant to them both, Sam worried how much of their ugliness polluted him, which made him think of Honey. “Ugh.” He told himself, reflecting on his actions towards her once again. It reminded him of his disgusting father, and how he viewed everything as trophies.

“You’re the one who punched your sergeant’s front teeth out!” His Uncle shouted. He no longer cared about what they had to say, or to seek out the truth. “Father of the year!”

Did he really follow his father’s footsteps? He treated Honey like a trophy, he treated ‘Singing Doll’ like a trophy, he treated the whole club like a trophy; a golden certificate that proves he’s capable. What was he without it? The incessant shouting from the two children made his ears bleed.

“Keep this up and see if you can still get promoted.” His Dad fired.

He got up, and headed to the bedroom to check on Joe. Joe sat by the bed, playing with his trains in silence; as opposed to the usual annoying volume. His mother laid fast asleep, and even she fell victim to Sam’s disillusionment. She did the bare minimum a mother had to do to keep their children alive, and gave not a cent of effort more.

“Joe, how are you?” He sat next to him. Joe paid no attention, as if he wasn’t even there. “Joe!”

He stayed silent.

“Joe, I’m asking you a question!”

“I’m ok.”

“Ok… good.”

Awkward silence. All of a sudden, Sam had forgotten how to communicate with his brother. Where has he seen this before?

“Why are they fighting?” Joe asked out of the blue.

Sam balled fists. “Because they’re children! Petty, whiny, f-” He took a deep breath, holding in the urge to swear. “Stupid children.”

“They’re adults.”

“No, they’re not. You’re an adult, I’m an adult, they’re children.” He locked eyes with Joe. “Don’t listen to what they say from now on, whatever they tell you is just a big fat lie to make themselves look cool.”

Joe tilted his head in thought. “Then who do I listen to?”

“No one!” He exclaimed. “No one. No one has anything good to say or advise. Everyone’s stupid and petty, everyone is a crybaby.”

“But you said we were adults.”

“Everyone except us, is a whiny crybaby…” He looked to his mother. “Or people who couldn’t care less.”

Joe fell more silent than usual.

“Just… listen to… listen to yourself.” Sam advised.