My brother is not ordinary. He fancies books, and one in particular, Tom Sawyer. I regret it. I recommended it. He was moved, inspired in a way. But, knowing Seth, I avoided his reverse-psychology in the event of household chores. However, I could not prevent his island visit. I knew it because he'd left the book face-down on the couch open to the very page on which the words "we're off pirating" blared at me. But semi-unconscious of his absence, I flipped on the news. Not long after I had turned it on, an Amber Alert shone across the screen and my brother's picture with it. I told myself not to panic, but I could feel a throbbing pulse heavy in my neck. I jogged to the local park, the one with the duck pond. In the middle of the pond, there was a tiny island with nothing but reeds and bread crumbs that missed the water. I waded out and found him asleep, so I carried him home. Stuff like this happens every week, but I told you, he's not normal.