My name is Dave Manners. I live in a house that is always being re-modeled. My parents are crazy about expanding and buying more stuff. They keep saying it is the legacy they want to leave behind. Personally, I wish they’d just spend a little more time with me and my brother.

And here they are, the ‘happy’ couple. My dad still dresses as if he was 20, and my mom, well, she dresses like she is a playboy bunny. I don’t have to explain why I rarely invite friends over. The guys at school make enough rude comments about my mom as it is.  If she looks unhappy to you, it’s because she is. See, my dad is a little bit insane and not nearly as rich as mom would like. He is trying to make a living selling paintings, but the real money comes from her selling her fruit and vegetables at the local grocery store.

This is my brother, by the way. He works hard, learning everything from plumbing, to playing chess and of course painting, with my dad. He rarely complains. When he is heading to the toilet that has clogged up again, he winks at me and says ‘it’s all for the legacy, you know?’ And then tries to clean up the mess.

Oh, and this is me. I am the youngest brother, but that doesn’t mean I am being coddled. Apparently mom needed someone to help out in the garden, and that turned out to be me. She makes me get up 2 hours early for school, so that I can do some watering and weeding for her.

It’s weird, but the only thing my brother and I do together, is homework. Sometimes he just copies mine, though. He’d much rather hang out in his room. You want to see his room?

Pretty cool huh? Okay, as a teen he was getting a bit too old for a pirate themed room. But he says one day his own kids will love this, so he will put up with it for now. It’s not like my room. My room feels like the spare room…

My room is not themed. It has the bunk bed my dad shared with his sister, back when he was growing up here, with my grandparents. I sleep on the top-most floor, 3 stairs up. There is a shower next to my room, but no toilet. I have no toys of my own, or stuff on the wall. Sometimes I feel like I am just being stored here.

Yesterday, my parents went all out on a birthday party for my brother. It was the first time they made so much of a fuss over him growing up. Dad ended up arguing with himself over the balloons, while my mom looked like a bunny caught in the headlights. I guess she realised that with my brother growing up, she was growing old, too.

My brother was excited. I was looking forward to some cake! By the end of the party, it looked as if my brother had changed from a gangly teen to a young man. He even changed his clothes, after announcing he’d like to try and be a rock star, now that he was all grown up. My dad nodded with approval.

Dad give my brother a gift. I realised I never had a proper birthday party with cake and gifts. Of course, Dad being Dad, he gave my brother a toy car from our toybox. Still, my brother was pleased.

Afterwards I took my brother aside and asked him what it felt like being grown up, and if this meant I could have his room now. Because he’d move out soon, right?

There was pity in his eyes, and he also looked amused, maybe embarrassed. ‘Little bro,’ he said. ‘Don’t you know, I’m the heir?’

‘What does that mean?’ I asked. He sighed and explained. As the eldest and most skilled, not to mention the best looking one, he’d inherit the house, the money, everything! What about me, I asked. As soon as I was grown up, I was to be kicked out, and left to fend for myself. He’d get everything my parents worked for, I’d get nothing, except maybe a book or so. I was stunned.

I was ‘the spare’.