When Jon got home that afternoon, the first thing he saw was his little brother Mikey sulking on the couch. The middle school boy wasn't quite crying, but he was almost there.
"What's wrong, Mikey?" Jon sat down next to the boy.
"It's stupid Gina," Mikey recrossed his arms over his chest. "She said I was staring at her, but I wasn't staring at her, and we got into a fight, and the teacher got me in trouble, and now I have to sit in the front of the class for the rest of the semester so I can't look at anyone."
Jon sighed. "Middle school girls are going through a lot," he put a hand on Mikey's shoulder. "It's not always easy to be around them, but you've gotta cut them some slack. Even if you didn't mean to do anything wrong, next time just apologize. Say 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, and I'll try not to do it again.'"
"But I didn't do anything!"
"I know," Jon soothed, "but sometimes it's more important to keep the peace than to be right. Not all the time. But sometimes."
Mikey started to calm down, and he leaned closer into his big brother. "You always know what to say. I wish tattletale Gina was more like you."
Jon didn't notice the little flash that went off with his brother's proclamation, and Mikey didn't know enough to think it was significant. But a particular red stone was just peeking out of Jon's pocket enough that it was making contact with Mikey's skin.
