I Swapped My Brother On The Internet

by Jo Simmons

‘Bet I can!’ said Alfie.

  ‘Well, I don’t want to have to rescue you if you get stuck. I don’t really like climbing,’ said Jonny. He stared up at the tree. ‘Besides, it’s really massive. Don’t try to climb it. Not a good idea.’

  ‘No, you’re right, it’s not a good idea,’ said Alfie. Jonny felt pleased for a second. Alfie had listened to him.

  ‘Climbing that tree is not a good idea,’ Alfie continued. ‘It is an awesome idea!’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  BETTING COMES BEFORE A FALL

  Before Jonny could say ‘Wait!’ or ‘No’ or ‘Ummm …’ Alfie was off. He clambered up the tree at top speed, like a squirrel late for his dentist appointment. Jonny jogged over with the box of doughnuts and gazed up. It really was a very big tree indeed.

  Seconds later, Alfie was near the top, clinging to the branches, which were swaying in the wind.

  ‘Woo-hoo!’ Alfie yelled. ‘I knew I could do it. Nearly at the top! I’m going to win the bet! Are you coming up too?’

  I didn’t actually bet you, Jonny thought, feeling exasperated by Alfie’s endless bets and challenges. And no, I don’t want to climb up too, thanks. I already told you I don’t like climbing.

  Jonny stayed where he was, feet firmly on the ground, but Alfie kept taunting him from above.

  ‘Come on, Jonny, climb up,’ he yelled. ‘It’s super fun!’

  ‘Oh all right,’ said Jonny eventually. Anything to shut Alfie up. Plus Alfie was younger than him. Older brothers had to be better at stuff than younger brothers, didn’t they? That was the natural order of things. Jonny was the oldest now, so …

  He tried to swing his legs up over the lowest branch, and just managed to heave himself up. Then he glanced up at Alfie, who had now made it to the very top. He could barely see the little boy’s face, but he suddenly sensed that something was wrong.

  ‘Do you want to come down now?’ Jonny asked. Perhaps Alfie would make another bet, about how fast he could descend, but instead, in a small voice, he just said, ‘Can’t.’

  ‘What?’ shouted Jonny.

  ‘I can’t get down,’ Alfie said limply. He was clinging to the uppermost branch, which was now swaying in the wind even more.

  ‘Oh massive swear word,’ muttered Jonny.

  What should he do? He had some experience of protecting his new brothers. He had made sure Henry wasn’t seen by the police, and he’d tried to save Mervyn from the pond and the puddle (OK, without success, but it’s the thought that counts). Jonny wasn’t afraid of water, but climbing up there after Alfie? That was something else! He knew he wasn’t a good enough climber. Ted would have been able to rescue him. Ted was amazing at climbing. If only Ted were …

  CRACK!

  The branch Alfie was standing on began to give way.

  ‘You need to start climbing down, Alfie, NOW!’ shouted Jonny.

  ‘But …’ spluttered Alfie. He was now wobbling on the unsteady branch.

  Jonny dropped to the ground and ran to where he could see Alfie better. Peering up, he could tell that the slim branch Alfie was standing on would soon break.

  ‘Climb down, Alfie!’ he yelled.

  Too late. With another loud CRACK, the branch snapped and Alfie fell.

  It was like watching a tiny blond cherub plummeting from heaven. Jonny gasped but he didn’t panic. He spotted the box of doughnuts and, with a firm kick, sent it skittering across the grass. Alfie fell, fell, fell. The doughnuts skidded and stopped and almost immediately – THUMP! Alfie landed squarely on the box.

  The fall winded him, but the soft cushiony doughnuts saved him. He was fine. Breathless and bruised, but fine. The doughnuts, on the other hand, were not. They looked like doughnut roadkill. And Jonny? He was wide-eyed with shock.

  ‘Told you I could climb to the top of the tree,’ said Alfie, standing up and rubbing his back.

  Jonny said nothing. He was shaking. It’s not every day you see your brother fall out of a tree. A really big tree.

  ‘Wow, you could have, like, hurt yourself,’ Jonny stuttered. ‘Are you OK? Thank goodness for the doughnuts.’

  ‘I would have been fine, anyway,’ said Alfie, shrugging. ‘I would have done another cool ninja roll or something.’

  Jonny pulled a ‘really’ face, and then, without asking, Alfie opened the box, peeled a flattened doughnut off the bottom of it and stuffed it into his mouth.

  Jonny watched in silence as Alfie chomped. Despite loving doughnuts, he had lost his appetite.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  THOUGHTS ON BROTHER SWAPPING

  Jonny was glad to watch some TV after lunch. After all the excitement in the park he wanted to relax. Alfie, on the other hand, didn’t seem to grasp the concept of relaxing. He flicked through the DVD collection, took the batteries out of the remote control, pulled feathers out of the cushions and tickled Widget’s nose with them. He hardly seemed to notice the screen. Jonny sighed and turned it off.

  ‘Bedtime,’ he said.

  ‘But it’s only five o’clock, and I haven’t had any dinner yet!’ said Alfie.

  ‘I’ll ask Mum to bring you a sandwich,’ Jonny said. ‘We often have an early night and a sandwich in bed in this house. Get used to it. Anyway, you must be tired. I bet you are!’

  ‘Bet I’m not!’ Alfie said, doing a couple of star jumps to prove it.

  Alfie was wrong, though. He was one of those kids that runs around all day like an ant who’s training for a triathlon, but when finally placed between a mattress and a duvet, falls asleep instantly. Just like that!

  After seeing Alfie power down like a disconnected screen, Jonny sighed and went to bed too. He lay with his eyes shut and thought about Alfie. He told himself Alfie would work out as his brother. He was certain of it. Well, maybe certain was pushing it a bit. Sure. That was better. Jonny felt sure Alfie would work out. They’d had fun together in the park, after all. And at least Alfie wasn’t like Ted, who almost never joined in with Jonny’s games and preferred teasing him about touching the Hanging Pants of Doom. So, it had all been great, in fact. Apart from the bit when Alfie fell out of the tree. Apart from that. But, yes, Jonny was sure he could make it work. Well, confident. Confident-ish … OK, he was reasonably confident that Alfie would make a good brother. Who never sat still to watch TV … And who had no understanding of danger or risk or …

  Jonny’s eyes pinged open. He stared at the ceiling. He remembered the moment Alfie fell out of the tree and he felt slightly sick. Would he always have to keep an eye on Alfie in future? Was that what being an older brother involved? Jonny didn’t want that! He never had to look after Ted. Then Jonny thought about how energetic Alfie was, always bouncing about like an eager spaniel desperate to have his ball thrown. At least Ted gave Jonny some space. Ted spent time in his room, so Jonny could enjoy hanging out with his mum or drawing at the kitchen table. And at the end of the day, the three of them would sit and watch TV together, quietly …

  Jonny got out of bed and sat at his desk. He made a new sign for the door, to replace the one saying OLDER BROTHERS KEEP OUT. This one said ALL BROTHERS KEEP OUT. Then he began reconstructing the brick castle that Alfie had kicked, the one he and Ted had made all those months ago. It seemed like weeks since Jonny had last seen Ted. In fact, it had only been a few days.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  COMPETITIVE CORNFLAKES

  The next morning Jonny woke up with a weight on his chest and cheese in his ears.

  ‘Would you like some cheese from me? Would you like some cheese from me? ­Because MY CHEESE is the best!’

  Alfie was straddling Jonny, pinning him to the mattress as he sang a ridiculous song about cheese.

  ‘Morning!’ said Alfie. ‘Bet you’re awake!’

  ‘I am now!’ huffed Jonny. ‘What are you thinking? It’s six thirty! And there’s a sign on the door. Can’t you read?’

  ‘I was bored,’ said Alfie. ‘Can we have breakfast? Bet I can eat a bigger bowl of cereal than you!�
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  ‘Are you really making a bet with me, at half past six on a Tuesday morning, about who can eat more cereal?’ groaned Jonny.

  Alfie nodded fast.

  ‘Seriously?’ said Jonny.

  He tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but Alfie kept poking him. Then he began prizing open Jonny’s eyelids with his tiny fingers. This felt extremely unpleasant. It was the final straw.

  ‘Get OFF!’ shouted Jonny, shoving Alfie on to the floor. He got out of bed and stood there, panting a little. His fists were clenched. His eyes were shining. Something had flipped inside him.

  ‘You want to bet me? About cereal? Right here, right now?’ Jonny said.

  Alfie nodded, half excited, half nervous.

  ‘OK, fine. I’m in. Let’s do this, brother. Bring. It. On. It’s going to be fun, isn’t it? And fun is good. Fun is the best! Fun is what you’re supposed to have with your brother. So let’s go. Absolutely. What are you waiting for?’

  Alfie jumped up, looking slightly confused by Jonny’s strange, wide-eyed eagerness.

  ‘I bet I can eat more cereal than you. I’m nearly nine you know!’ he said, following Jonny out of the room. But on the stairs Jonny stopped suddenly and turned to face his tiny competitive brother.

  ‘Just one thing,’ Jonny said. ‘If I win, you never bet me again. Ever!’

  ‘OK …’ said Alfie, sounding a bit uncertain, but only for a split second. ‘But I will win!’

  In the kitchen Jonny measured out cornflakes into two bowls, pouring out equal amounts of milk and setting the kitchen timer.

  ‘One minute to clear the bowl, starting …’

  Alfie grabbed his spoon, his baby-blue eyes looking suddenly steely.

  ‘Now!’

  Both boys attacked their cereal. Their spoons were a blur. Milk splattered their faces and their jaws jumped up and down as they demolished the cornflakes. Jonny was fast, but – giant, really colourful swear word! – Alfie was quicker. His mouth looked like a hamster’s, rapid-fire chewing the food, turning it into cornflake mush and swallowing it.

  DING-A-LING-A-LING!

  The boys threw down their spoons. Alfie had cleared his bowl. Jonny still had a few flakes floating at the bottom in a puddle of milk.

  ‘Ooof!’ said Alfie, doing some kind of victory gesture that looked faintly rude. ‘Told you I could beat you! I win the bet!’

  ‘Best of three!’ said Jonny. He couldn’t quite believe he was doing this. A cornflake-eating competition at 6.30 a.m.? Madness! But Alfie’s restless energy and need to compete had pushed Jonny to the brink. If Alfie was to work out as his brother, Jonny had to show him who was boss, and prove he was the oldest and the best. He had to fight, conquer, WIN! And, hopefully, shut Alfie up once and for all.

  Jonny refilled the bowls, poured the milk, reset the timer and they were off again.

  This time Jonny shovelled as fast as he could, barely breathing between mouthfuls. When the timer went, he dropped his spoon and gasped for air. He had done it! His bowl was empty. He glanced at Alfie’s. There were still some cornflakes left in it.

  ‘Beat you!’ shouted Jonny. ‘Ha! I did it! You got owned! Beaten!’

  ‘There’s still one more round,’ said Alfie.

  Both boys now looked grimly determined. This was the decider. Jonny had never felt more competitive in his life. The fate of his whole existence, his home, the town he lived in, the very world seemed to be resting on this final bowl.

  Jonny set the timer again, gripped his spoon and …

  ‘Go!’ he shouted.

  They plunged their spoons into their third bowl of cornflakes. Jonny’s jaw ached but he was determined to win. He glanced at Alfie and was delighted to see him slowing down. Then Alfie clutched his stomach and dropped his spoon with a clatter on the floor. Jonny looked up, just in time to see Alfie open his mouth and let out an enormous …

  BUUURRRPPPP!

  The blast hit Jonny in the face. It was so powerful it seemed to blow him backwards in his chair. Powerful, and also damp. It smelled of milk and mashed cornflakes. There was even a whiff of yesterday’s doughnuts in there too. Disgusting, Jonny thought, and his body agreed. He raced upstairs to the bathroom and was sick. Outside the door he could hear Alfie laughing.

  ‘Did you just throw up?’ he said. ‘Excellent! You know what that means? I win the bet.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  OPERATION OUTSMART

  Jonny sat miserably on the bathroom floor. Alfie had laughed when he’d been sick. That wasn’t kind. Then he remembered, with a sigh, that Ted was often not particularly kind either. Maybe this was just how brothers were? What would Ted have done if Jonny had barfed up his cornflakes? Laughed too, perhaps, but after laughing Ted would have asked him how he was or helped him to bed, wouldn’t he?

  Jonny remembered the time he fell off his bike trying to ride through a stream. Ted had told him he could do it, even though he probably knew it was impossible. The stream was too deep. Jonny’s bike was too small. He cycled in about halfway and then fell sideways into the muddy water. But after nearly peeing his pants with laughter, Ted had lent Jonny his jumper and helped him pull his bike out of the mud. Because your brother, however mean, is still your brother, right?

  Alfie, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care about anything except making bets and winning and trying to prove that he was the best despite being only eight. Last night Jonny had gone from certain to sure to reasonably confident that he could make life with Alfie work. This morning, though, he was no longer certain, sure or reasonably confident about anything.

  Then he heard his mum knock softly on the door.

  ‘Jonny?’ she asked. ‘Let me in, darling, so I can help you.’

  He opened the door and saw Alfie grinning up at her.

  ‘I beat him in a cornflake-eating race!’ said Alfie proudly, but Jonny’s mum wasn’t interested. She was hugging Jonny. He thought he might cry. He suddenly realised he had also been worrying that his mum might prefer Alfie, that Alfie’s cutie-pieness might lure her away from her true son. Now, with a tidal wave of relief, he knew this wouldn’t happen.

  Jonny’s mum suggested he go back to bed for a bit. But, shortly after snuggling down, Alfie burst in.

  ‘You can’t beat me at eating, at climbing trees, at jumping, at being annoying by singing the cheese song …’ said Alfie, counting his achievements off on his tiny fingers while Jonny gazed at him, realising, slowly but surely, that Alfie didn’t really care about him or his feelings, or anything other than proving he was the best, and charming adults so he could get away with all sorts of nonsense.

  ‘Why did you end up on Sibling Swap?’ Jonny interrupted, but deep down he’d already guessed why. He could have put a bet on it, in fact. ‘Did you annoy your brother so much he put you on the site?’

  ‘Sister,’ said Alfie, but he was hardly listening. ‘Anyway, I can probably beat you at tons of other things too, like long jump or …’

  Yes, but I can beat you at thinking, Jonny decided, remembering how he had tricked Alfie into shutting up by making it a bet. You may be able to charm Mrs Algernon, you may be agile, you may have nine lives, but I have something you don’t. Brains! If I can’t beat you, I can at least outsmart you, just like a proper older brother!

  With that, Jonny sat up.

  ‘You’re probably right,’ he said. ‘You probably can beat me at everything. Like jumping on the sofa. I mean, I can only jump up and down on it twenty times in a minute, but I bet you can do more.’

  ‘I bet I can too!’ shouted Alfie, rushing down to the living room and pinging about on the sofa in a frenzy. Jonny followed him and watched passively. He wasn’t even counting.

  ‘Nice! Amazing! You win. You’re better at jumping than me,’ said Jonny. ‘Oh my goodness, I’ve just realised. I bet you’re better at running up and down stairs than me.’

  Before he’d even finished the sentence Alfie was hurling himself up and down the stairs, over an
d over again. Jonny congratulated him and issued another bet, and another and another, each one more tantalising than the last. Vaulting the garden wall. Leapfrogging the wheelie bin. Jumping, hopping, catching a ball. Whatever Jonny challenged Alfie to do, he did. He was so competitive that he even cleaned the toilet in under forty-five seconds, just because Jonny said it would take him fifty.

  After half an hour of incessant betting, Alfie was growing tired, but Jonny wouldn’t let up.

  ‘This is so fun!’ he lied. ‘You really are good at everything. And you’re only eight! I can’t believe it.’

  Alfie nodded and beamed and puffed a bit, his pretty cheeks flushed pink from the exertion.

  ‘Oh no, hang on!’ said Jonny. ‘I’ve just realised something you can’t do.’

  ‘What?’ said Alfie.

  ‘I bet you can’t run all the way back to Sibling Swap.’

  ‘Easy!’ roared Alfie. ‘It’s only a little way away. Super, mega, extra easy!’

  ‘So you know where Sibling Swap is?’

  ‘Yup, I can find it,’ said Alfie. ‘It’s in a warehouse on the edge of town, over there.’

  He pointed through the window and Jonny squinted in the same direction.

  ‘Sorry, no, I’ve made a mistake,’ said Jonny, shaking his head. ‘You can’t run all the way over there. I know you’re really fast, but that’s just too far.’

  ‘I can,’ said Alfie. ‘In fact, I bet I could run there in ten minutes.’

  ‘What?’ said Jonny. ‘Only ten minutes? No, sorry, it’s impossible. I bet you can’t.’

  ‘Can! Can! Can!’ Alfie said, pogoing from one foot to the other.

  ‘No way,’ said Jonny. ‘It cannot be done.’

  ‘It can! I can do it!’ shrieked Alfie, looking like he might burst.

  Jonny was silent for a moment, and then smiled calmly at him. ‘Go on then,’ he said.

  That was it. Jonny didn’t need to say it again. It was like he’d shot the starter pistol for the Olympic 100 metre race. Alfie was gone, speeding out of the front door and down the street as fast as his almost-nine-year-old legs would carry him.