The Flat Tyre

''For the love of God! What have the two of you been doing?''

I looked at the floor guiltily. Next to me, I could hear him stifling a giggle. Now honestly, I hate it when he does that. Laughter is infectious, but in my family it runs like an epidemic. I bit my lower lip as hard as possible to stop myself from breaking into laughter.

''We were, actually, helping the mechanic to change the flat tyre,'' I managed to mumble.

''And pray why? Isn't the mechanic capable of changing a flat tyre on his own, without the help of you two fools? Look at your hands!''

He obediently took out his hands from his pockets and looked up. his face was smeared with grease, right down to his teeth. He looked at me from the corner of his eye.

I couldn't control myself any longer. I burst into laughter.

''What are you laughing at? That is a nice dress. A nice dress! And what do you do with nice dresses?''

''She had to tear it,'' he started to explain.

''You TORE. You tore? The nice dress?''

I couldn't help it. One moment I was standing on the pavement holding a jack and a fistful of screws, looking at the neighbour's dog picking a fight with the street cat, while my brother and the mechanic crouched in front of the giant SUV tyre. The next moment, I had thrown the tools down. They lay scattered over the pavement, as I cradled my brother's hand. His finger was bleeding. I quickly tore the edge of my 'nice dress' to tie it around his finger.

''We need to wash it. It'll be full of germs, and you'll need to get a shot. I know how much you hate shots but...''

''Relax, I'm fine!''

I smiled at him.

''Go inside! Both of you! Take a bath and scrub yourselves so hard that you had better be spotless by the time you come out. And after that, you're grounded. Yes, both of you. What are you waiting for? Go!''

We tiptoed away silently.

''Totally worth it,'' he muttered under his breath.

''You said it,'' I said, holding up his injured finger to examine it.

It had stopped bleeding.

He smiled at me.