kids

   As soon as they enter the gym, Oscar is riding Phillip like a pony, slapping him on the bum and screaming at an intolerable pitch. Phillip laughs and smiles, like always, and mum is off to secure some seats and pull out the food. Oscar dismounts by shoving Phillip to the ground, then tramples on his little hand as he runs to his mum who is holding out a treat. She makes no notice of her second son lying on the floor, quietly picking himself up and brushing off his trousers. "I want one, too," he calls as he runs after his brother.
   "Ha ha ha ha ha, I have one already," Oscar sing songs, then pinches Phillip's belly, twisting the skin.
   Phillip shrugs away, one hand holding his treat, the other rubbing his belly. His face squishes up in pain. Their mother pulls out their football jerseys and proceeds to undress Oscar.
   "I want another one," Oscar demands as she pulls the jersey over his head.
   "After class," she answers him. "Phillip, come here," she calls, another smaller jersey poised to dress him. Phillip passes his brother, not without another assault, this time a jab in his back, somewhere else to rub. "Finish up, it's time for class," his mother urges. Phillip shoves the rest of the treat into his mouth and chomps quickly in obedience.
   Oscar sprints out to join the rest of the children gathered at the back of the gym listening to their coach's instructions for the drill. Phillip runs out after him and sits next to his brother. In front of everyone, the mothers sitting next to one another watching their kids, the two coaches, the children gathered next to them, and his own mother, Oscar reaches out for his brother and chokes him from behind, his arms wrapped tightly around Phillip's neck. Oscar pulls his small brother toward him in this hugging choke hold and lets go after a few seconds in order to punch him in the belly in quick successions.
   "Stop it," Phillip says, not a yell, not a whine, but a resigned voice that expects nothing at all.
   Oscar grabs Phillip's trousers by the back of the waistband and yanks repeatedly down until his naked bum is exposed. Then Oscar laughs like a horse and points and kicks Phillip over.
   "Stop it, stop it, Oscar," one of the coaches calls toward him, swishing to Oscar's side. "He's your brother, don't do that to him."
   Oscar's smile is like an angel, practiced to perfection. The class continues like this, week after week, month after month, and the only change is the aggression in Phillip. One day he pushes another kid and steals his ball. Another day he pinches a boy for running into him. And the last day I see him, he slaps his brother in the face. Their mum all the while, digging in her purse or reading a magazine, never sees a thing.