My Hundred Million Dollar Secret

because I really care about the word "stink" but because it's my obligation as an older brother to be as annoying as possible. But her markers really did stink. The yellow stank like old bananas, the brown like fake chocolate, the red like cherry-flavored cough medicine. Her markers really stank. Plus, they didn't draw very well.

"If you get a single dot on anything except the paper, I'm the one who'll be blamed. And I'll take it out on you," I promised. I got down the marker set and, holding it just out of her reach, added, "Want them?"

"Yes, I just said that." She grabbed for them but I was faster.

"Want them? Want them?" Oh, I was being a real jerk.

"I'll be careful" she pleaded, trying to jump up to reach the markers.

"I know you will. But when five-year-olds are careful, somehow the rug ends up with marker marks in it."

"Let me use them!"

"Nope. I'm not going to take the blame for when you make a mistake and write your name on the rug."

"G