If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s the morning of the first day of school. You wake up all tired and wobbly because you’ve been staying up late the whole summer. Then you have to go to the bathroom and brush things that you haven’t brushed for a while and get dressed before you’ve even watched any TV.

It’s unnatural.

That morning, my older brother, Gunther, and I sat slumped at the kitchen table, looking miserable while shoveling cereal into our mouths.

Mom was in a great mood, though.

“Aren’t you guys excited?” she said. “A new school in New York City!”

“No,” we both said at the same time.

But she sure was excited. You know why? Because she was finally going to get rid of us for a few hours. I know that’s true because I saw it in her text message to Dad. Mom and Dad text-message when they want to tell each other things they don’t want us to hear. Then later, when Mom goes to the bathroom, I look at her cell phone and see what’s really going on.

Gunther looked at me over his cereal bowl with this cheesy smile on his face.

“You know what happens to new kids, don’t you?” he said.

“What?” I said. I knew I shouldn’t ask, but I couldn’t help myself. I’d never actually been the new kid at a school before.

“The only person who’ll sit next to you is the kid who digs in the treasure box,” Gunther said.

“What does that mean?”

“Digging … in … the … treasure … box.” Gunther demonstrated by pretending to pick his nose.

The funny thing is, I have never seen Gunther actually pick his nose. Since he’s a pretty disgusting guy in general, this always seemed strange to me. I once asked Mom about it.

“Maybe it’s because he has good manners,” she said.

But we both knew that was ridiculous. So she gave me a stern look and said, “Let’s not talk about it, okay? It’s very upsetting to Gunther.”

That’s why I like to bring it up every once in a while.

“Hey, that reminds me, Gunther,” I said, “why don’t you pick your nose? Are you afraid of the boogeyman?”

Gunther threw a Cheerio at me and hit me right in the eyeball. I flicked a spoon of milk at his head. Mom walked back in, took one look at us, and started text-messaging Dad like mad.