(Third Person. Connor and Aaron - 9 years old)

Like any other mid-July day, Connor Notham and Aaron Trivett, who had both recently turned nine, wanted to play football, or at least a modified version of it that only required two players. Nevertheless, that still required the actual ball.

The two young boys went to retrieve Connor's football from the garage, which was currently occupied by Connor's older brother, Jordan, and two of his friends. They had the small plastic pool out with the garden spray hose in an attempt to beat the heat.

At just fifteen years old, Jordan Notham was already the catcher and star hitter of the Elkhorn High baseball team. He talked down to his brother upon noticing his entry. "What do you want?"

"I'm just getting my football," Connor responded quickly, eager to leave as soon as possible.

"Whatever." Jordan rolled his eyes and sprayed the hose at the younger boys.

Aaron's gasp proved to be counterproductive as it led to coughing, sputtering, and a panicked expression.

Jordan raised an eyebrow. "Scared, Aaron?"

"No," Connor denied on his friend's behalf, despite Aaron's cheeks slowly turning the same color as his hair.

Jordan approached them and immediately shoved Connor to the ground. "I wasn't talking to you."

He pulled Aaron by the arm towards the kiddie pool. "Now let's try that again," he said, positioning Aaron's head just above the water's surface. "Scared?"

Aaron nodded rapidly. "Yeah," he said, weakly, hoping fear and embarrassment would be enough to satiate him.

But unfortunately it wasn't.

Jordan smiled in satisfaction. "That's what I thought." He pushed Aaron's head under the shallow water. Not long enough to actually hurt him, he reasoned. Just long enough to make him squirm.

"Jordan, stop," Connor begged.

But that was Jordan's favorite sound. His friends didn't appear too concerned either. In fact, they seemed to be enjoying the show.

"Stop it!" Connor repeated.

Of course, when you're nine years old, no one listens to you.

Rage built up inside Connor as his older brother continued to dunk his best friend underwater. Impulsively, he ran over to Jordan and threw several punches. "I said stop!"

Jordan immediately released his grip on Aaron and turned to his little brother, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. His smile was vicious. "Now Connor, was that a very smart idea?"

Connor struggled to break free, but his strength couldn't match his brother's.

Jordan began slamming his fists into Connor until he could barely stay upright. With an additional punch to the jaw, he had finally knocked Connor to the ground. He didn't want to be done though. He loved putting his little brother in his place.

"Jordan," his friend said, swinging his bat. "Use what you know best."

Jordan grabbed it eagerly. Aaron's eyes grew wide as he figured out what was about to happen. He wanted to say something, but fear seemed to have shut off his voice. 

Jordan struck his brother's arms several times, causing Connor to wince in pain. Jordan knelt down next to him. In a whisper, he added, "you're just lucky I wasn't aiming for your head, right?"

From his curled up position, Connor nodded out of pain and terror.

The older boys grabbed their snacks and Jordan sprayed Aaron once more for good measure before leaving the room.

Shaking and wet, Aaron ran over to his best friend. "Connor, I'm sorry," he apologized, feeling like he started the whole thing.

Connor moaned and tried to wipe the blood from his lip.

Both boys were crying, but neither of them wanted to bring it up or admit it.

Aaron helped Connor to his feet. "This is way worse than usual. We can tell your dad what happened and get Jordan in trouble."

While Aaron seemed to have confidence in his plan, the whole situation made Connor feel uneasy. As they entered his house, Mr. Notham was sitting at his computer browsing Facebook with a Bud Light in hand.

"Jordan beat up Connor!" Aaron announced. "He even used his bat to hit him."

Mr. Notham didn't even take his eyes off the monitor. "That's just the boys roughhousing-"

"He kept dunking Aaron underwater!" Connor blurted out.

His dad gave a small chuckle. "He doesn't look hurt." He turned to his son. "And you, young man, I seem to remember you saying you wanted to be on the football team by the time you reached middle school. You might want to think about toughening up if that's the case."

Connor hung his head and gave a small nod. Aaron just wanted to scream internally.

By the time Aaron returned home for dinner not much later, his mom didn't look pleased upon opening the door.

"Aaron, why on earth are you all wet?" She continued before he could even answer though. "Just go upstairs and get changed before eating."

"Okay, fine," he complied.

Mr. and Mrs. Trivett were so caught up in a conversation about their jobs, they had hardly realized when their son came back downstairs.

"...she wanted three days off in a row. I know we technically do have the PTO allotted, but it's as if some people don't think about the rest of the staff at all when planning a vacation-"

"Mom, dad," Aaron began.

His mother shot him a stern look. "Aaron, I've told you before, not to interrupt. It's rude," she scolded. "Your father and I were talking about work. This better be important."

"Can we adopt Connor?" Aaron asked simply.

Both of his parents looked at him, puzzled.

"What do you mean?" his father questioned.

"Can we adopt Connor?" he repeated. "Like...he lives here. He would be your kid."

Mrs. Trivett turned to her husband. "Oh, he must be feeling lonely, being an only child and all."

He returned with a small laugh. "He's probably just jealous that Connor has a brother to play with at home."

"No, I'm not," Aaron tried to argue. He exhaled, trying to calm his anger. "But why can't we adopt him?"

"Aaron, you can't just adopt another couple's child." Before her son could respond, she continued. "And don't get any ideas about us adopting any other children either. That would be a lot of money and paperwork—speaking of which, you should have seen the stack in my inbox this morning."

Aaron sighed and slumped further into his chair, knowing his parents weren't going to listen to him. After all, no one does when you're nine years old.