He was the monster who haunted me from dawn till dusk. Everywhere I looked he was there, invading any form of privacy I had. Listening to my phone calls and tattling on me whenever he got the chance. He loved to torture me and make me cry. Barbie was decapitated and Mickey Mouse lost an eye. I begged and pleaded, but that didn't stop him. He pulled my hair and yanked my shirt collar, and because of this inhumane treatment we became distant. But I was still proud to call him my big brother Jon.

Once he reached junior high, he would refer to me by name rather than "dork" or "smelly." Because he was older, he became more mature; instead of torturing me, he would ignore me. I didn't understand what was wrong with him. Why wasn't he a cruel and aggravating brother anymore? I even asked my mom if there were anything I could do to turn him back into being the villain. She said, "It's a phase. He is in love." Yuck! In love? Who in her right mind would love that goon? Because of his romance, we grew farther apart. But I was still proud to call him my big brother Jon.

Now he is older and wiser. He's a college man. He has discovered that I am a person and I have feelings. He has replaced Barbie and sewed Mickey's eye back on. He isn't even embarrassed to be seen with me in public. I never doubted that we would be friends. We have dared to discover that our differences complemented each other, and because of this, we now have a bond that cannot be broken. He has gained my trust and I have earned his respect. There isn't anything we wouldn't do for each other. I have found that he is proud to call me his little sister Beth. And I am still proud to call him my big brother Jon. c