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<center>MENTAL SHATTER</center> © F. J. Phillips

Victory drenched his features, even though my reflection hadn’t won the tournament, and wouldn‘t be the one fighting. Doing a simple one-two punch towards the mirror, I practicing my form for a moment. For those of you that don’t realize what that is, it’s the fighting style I was competing in. Practice, practice, and more practice. That was all I could do to prepare for this. Studying forms and shadow sparring. Kicking and stopping just before hitting the mirror, it was time to leave.

Dorian interrupted my state of concentration, “I can’t believe you’d rather fight in a competition than go with me to catch the Nickelback concert. We even bought the tickets a month in advanced.”

Rolling his eyes and turning to face my fraternal, yet nearly identical twin. It was like looking back into the mirror, only Dorian had longer copper hair, and was more annoying, “Dorian, I bought my ticket, our parents dished out for yours. So why do you even care?”

Getting up off the bed, Dorian went to his desk. The Nickelback tickets thrown into the trash on his way over. Out of all the books lining the desk, the guy picked the medium sized text book. Tossing it open, my brother caught the front half before it banged down to the wood. It was a calculus book. My younger brother began to work on the math assignment that was already halfway finished, or ‘halfway done‘ as he preferred calling it. The homework was just a excuse to ignore me.

“You know, even if I don’t go, you can,” I slipped the shoes by my bed on. They were so loose I didn’t even need to bend down to pull up the back.

“No thank you, I’d rather stay here. After all, you‘re the one that said we should go. Trying to get mom and dad to see that you and me actually have something in common. The thing is, you like to hit things, and I like to read things.”

Shoes on, bag of gear on shoulder, I just went towards the door, waiting in front of it. Always Dorian had to say something about how I‘m not good enough to meet his level, “Suit yourself, maybe you could come watch the tournament. Might be more entertaining and people might think you have a life.”

“I actually care about my grades, and it wont take me long. So go beat up all the other idiots.”

“Oh yeah, those bastards are in for it. a**,” I stated before slamming the door. Dorian didn’t even wince, tying his hair into a short ponytail.