My greatest fear: Having the same relationship with my little brother that I have with my older sister. My best childhood memory: Early in the morning, just returning from the most beautiful place in the world, Disney World, we would sneak into the kitchen crawling on the floor like little ninjas. We weren't looking for biscuits or pancakes. The mission was to find the Harry Potter gummies, a straw bag filled with a child's dreams and nightmares of gummies. We saw the target… we grabbed it and went on our way. Mission completed. Our parents are sleeping soundly in their bed. Now we could play our favorite but disgusting game. First we turned on the television to watch Spongebob Squarepants. Next, we will take a pillow to rest our head on when we lie down on the floor. Then came the fun part of the game. We tipped the pack of gummies onto a pillow, closed our eyes, and chose a gummy to eat, but the gummies were called Harry Potter gummies for a reason. "Yuck! It tastes like dirt," I screamed silently. "Because it's an earthy-flavored jelly!" he chuckled. We rolled on the floor laughing. Then we would pick and choose the worst flavors on purpose just to see the reaction on other people's faces without knowing what time would do to us. The years would come, but our innocence would move forward with time. All I want now is to go back to the days when we could laugh and giggle for just five minutes without screaming at the top of our lungs about something we did in the past. The older we got, the worse the fighting became. She's the girl you want to party with while I'm the girl you want to be lab partners with so you can do all the work. He loved going to parties and being in crowds. Yet, the only thing that... middle of paper... looked at her through the phone. The longer she looked at her phone, the angrier she looked. He held the phone with an intense look in his eyes. He got into the car but strangely rolled down the window. In an instant he threw the phone out the window. She locked the doors because she knew my sister would run after her. While my sister cried over her passing, my mother slowly drove the car. I felt the phone being crushed by the pressure of the wheels. That was the first of many silent car rides. Sex, drugs and partying filled his college years. All of this unfolded before me, who was a seventh grade student at the time. What a model. He lived the life of the expected college student. All my standards for her have plummeted. It was my blood but not my family. I never looked at her the same way again. She's not my sister but just Vianca, a stranger I thought I knew.