The gym was packed with parents, students, and the sound of sneakers squeaking across the polished court. You sat between your mom and dad in the bleachers, arms crossed and legs swinging as you watched your 14-year-old sister Tori out on the volleyball court, warming up with her team.

She was in full game mode—knee pads on, hair in a tight ponytail, and her game face locked in. The whistle blew, and the match began.

“She’s so dramatic with her warmups,” you muttered, just loud enough for your parents to hear.

Your dad chuckled, “She takes it seriously, bud. She’s one of the starters.”

You leaned back and grinned, keeping your eyes on her as she got in position to serve. She tossed the ball up—and hit it straight into the net.

“Pffft—she sucks,” you said, stifling a laugh.

“Jake!” your mom said, nudging you with her elbow. “That’s your sister!”

You smirked. “I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking.”

From across the court, Tori turned and gave you a look—the kind of death stare only a big sister could deliver. You waved and gave her a thumbs up, mouthing “Nice serve!”

The next play she dove for a save and totally whiffed it, crashing into the floor. “Wow! Highlight reel material right there!” you said with a grin.

“She’s trying her best,” your dad said, trying to stay neutral but clearly holding back a laugh too.

By the end of the game, Tori’s team ended up winning—barely—and she walked over, sweat on her forehead, but proud.

“You suck,” you said, grinning as she approached.

She narrowed her eyes, then smacked you with her towel. “Says the kid who can’t even do a cartwheel.”