“Mira, have you packed your backpack for your five days and four nights trip?”
“Sure. We’ll go to the airport tomorrow at 4am,” I reply.
Kira fiddles with her pink chopsticks, which are covered with sticky rice. I scowl at her. “Could you please stop?”
Mum heaves a sigh. “Mira, shush! That’s unkind!”
“Who cares? She’s already 10! Surely 10-year-olds aren’t so immature!”
Dad pats my hand. “Mira, never mind. It takes time for Kira to mature. Just be pati–.”
“I don’t care! She’s so annoying!” I gobble up my dinner then leave, stomping.
I sit on the bed, as a silver streak falls on my cheek. I feel guilty for leaving the table so rudely. But another part of me hardens. I don’t care. Kira is annoying.
I imagine Kira being scolded and kicked in the butt by me. Ah. This is life.
I curl up into a ball, as I think of myself visiting the museums and sampling the food in Korea. I face the wall when Kira enters the bedroom. I stay silent.
Then, I drift to sleep.
I wake up in the morning. Dad is waiting. Mum enters, shushing us.
“Shhh! Don’t wake Kira! She has to go to her running club today.” I check my bag one last time. I put on my watch. We are leaving very soon.
A shadow darts out. Kira.
She has changed. She is wearing her sports kit. Her brown hair is still messy. There are deep, dark bags under her usually bright eyes. “Mum? Can you help me braid my hair, please?”
“Kira! What are you doing? Go back to your bedroom and sleep! You have training today!” Mum says to Kira.
Kira shakes her head rapidly. “I’m going to the airport and see Mira go.”
We get to the airport by taxi. It is still early and I am starving. I eye the departure gate.
“There’s still plenty of time. Let’s eat breakfast.”
We get chocolate muffin cupcakes and hot chocolate. Then teachers arrive, waving a flag with my school name and large words “Heading to Korea”.
I shoulder my backpack and check my suitcase. “I have to go. See you in five days!”
Dad hugs me. “Good luck, Mira. We wish you a happy Easter in Korea.” I peck his cheek.
Mum kisses me. “Don’t forget to call us on your phone. Love you.”
I smile. Kira nudges me. I pat her. “Thank you,” I say.
There’s a moment of silence.
Kira gently pushes me closer to the departure gate.
“Goodbye,” she whispers, as she backs away to our parents’ side, watching me go. When I hand my passport to the officers, I pretend to not see Kira’s eyes turn red as she wipes her cheeks.
I get on the plane and open my backpack. Inside, there is a Post-it note with pink letters scrawled on it.
Good luck. I love you.
My eyes go red. Kira had woken up to wish me luck. She did something I wouldn’t do if my big sister bossed me around like I did to her. I don’t know if I will get another Easter with a Post-it like this.
I feel a tear rolling down my cheek as I bury my head into my jacket. I feel bad again. I write on the back of the Post-it:
I’m sorry. Thank you!