Three days ago, 10,000 feet above New York City

New York City. I had never imagined that it was this big. This vast. My neck ached from trying to take it all in through an airplane window that was just a little too far back to allow a comfortable view. My brother, Marcus, grinned at me. He was probably thinking I was acting like a kid from the country, but I bet his neck was just as sore on his first trip here.

Marcus was four years older, but sometimes he acted like he was forty-one instead of twenty-one. I guess he has always felt responsible for me, especially since our mother passed. With our dad traveling for work a lot, my big brother had been the one constant, reliable thing in my life.

"I can't believe you're gonna live here," I said. "This is gonna be so epic."

"Maybe. They haven't hired me yet," he replied. "And it's just an internship. Don't jinx it."

We touched down at JFK and caught a ride to the hotel from a man holding a sign with Marcus' name, which I thought was pretty chill. Just like in the movies. The hotel had too many floors to count, but my hopes of having a view like the one from the airplane were quickly dashed. Our room was on the eleventh floor, number 1138.

The door unlocked with a muted beep, and before Marcus could put his card key in his pocket, I ducked under his outstretched arm and pushed into the room.

"Whoa, Marcus! 11th floor!" I said, dropping my suitcase on the bed by the window. "You must really rate, bro. No long elevator rides to the penthouse for you. No, sir. This is better. Look down there. Those people look like ants. Hold up. My bad. Those are actual ants." I laughed and flopped backwards onto the bed.

"I have ten minutes to shower and get dressed for dinner," Marcus said. He had already opened his carry-on sized suitcase. He pulled out a wrinkled pair of slacks and a white button-down shirt and threw them at me. "Earn your keep. There's an iron and board in the closet."

"And it's so big!" I continued, ignoring his demands. "I bet those dresser drawers open all the way without bumping into the bed."

"Sometimes I forget that you're just a seventeen-year-old kid. Thanks for reminding me. You should think about what you want to do this weekend while you are ironing. This palace is ours all until lunchtime on Sunday."

I gave him a thoughtful nod. "Yeah, this kid might already have some ideas on that. But today is Friday. And it's still early. And I'm gonna need at least a hundred bucks if you want these rags ironed any time soon."

"A hundred..." Marcus started. "Hop off! You better hear this: Do not leave the hotel tonight. Get some room service in here, rent movies, play X-box, whatever you want to do inside this hotel. Better yet, in this room. If you have an uncontrollable need to stretch your legs, you can have dinner in the hotel restaurant, or go up to the dining room on the 23rd floor and watch the meteor shower. Our room is on the list, and concierge said you can get in with your key card."

I didn't argue. My complaints and sarcasm were mostly just a show. The hotel was actually pretty nice. I was excited to be there, too. I just didn't want to seem excited.

"Alright, big brother. I'll stay in the hotel. But I'm not staying in this room all night while you party at some fancy restaurant. What kind of place are you going to, anyway?"

"Some pizza place over by Phantom of the Opera. It's supposed to be special. They cook with coal."