It was my freshman year of high school, and my older brother and I were starting at a new school. My brother was going into a grade where people had already established their groups. But despite his nerves, I knew he would do fantastic. Being the only sibling I have, my brother was always my ride or die. The first real best friend I had. And as older siblings tend to do, he always protected me from just about everything. Our first year was tough, but we slowly found our way.

My brother soon became a star favorite among, not just his grade, but the whole high school. With his charisma, talent, and humor, it was no surprise that people instantly wanted to be his friend. And I was proud to call him my brother. Even though I did not make friends as easily as he did, I never thought of being jealous, so it didn’t bother me.

It didn’t bother me, until the comparisons started. Where my brother was chill and easygoing, I took a little more work. I was an independent, assertive, and opinionated 14-year-old. I loved to debate and have intellectual conversations, and many of the adults called me an “old soul.”

In simpler terms, I was not fun or entertaining. At least, that’s how I was described by other people in my grade. Around halfway through my freshman year, other kids would start coming up to me and asking about my brother.

“What kind of things does he like?”

“What can he really do?”

“Can you do them too, since you’re his sister?”

I would never know how to respond to these questions, or why they were being asked of me. And when I would try to answer that I could not be like my brother, another student would happily respond for me.

“No. She is nothing like her brother. He’s less uptight and way more fun.”

At first they were just comments, simple questions that I could brush to the side and never think of again. But for months it continued, on and on and on. Kids I had never met began to talk about me and how I was the “lesser sibling.”

“The lacking sibling.”

I began to curl into myself because I was lost as to what to do. Do I stay myself or become more like my brother? Do I become who they want me to be?

Slowly, jealousy grew for my own flesh and blood. I never thought I would be jealous of anybody. In fact, I never really cared enough to have that emotion. But life threw a curve- ball. Fighting this envy was more painful than what I assumed would be a knife to the chest. It felt like I no longer had a sibling. I was alone.

But I learned quickly how wrong I was. As I sat inside the dark shell that I had created, my brother began to hear the rumors spreading. And he deeply disagreed.

Every day my brother would start to be more loving and caring to me. Driving me to school. Coming to see me during lunch to make sure I was doing okay. Doing his best to hide the rumors with his truth.

My jealousy for him began to dissipate, because I learned that it didn’t matter what other people thought about me. He was my best friend and my own personal protector. There was no point in me being jealous. After all, I was the favorite person of the coolest student at school.

Though being jealous was not a highlight, I do not regret this moment in my life. It taught me that family is a strong bond. Not so easily broken. Because of this, I believe that me and my brother would not be the same without this test.

But that is the way of life. Sometimes you have to travel through the dark night to find the things that make your sunshine.

After my brother graduated and I changed schools, I never was plagued with jealousy again. And as for those students, well my brother let them know exactly what he thought about me. Long story short, they never got to be friends with my awesome older brother.