I raced home and went through the usual process of getting blamed for things I didn't do and stuff I didn't even know about. I always got into trouble because of Ian and the twins.

Ian just couldn't stop messing around the house. Then he blamed everything on me. And the twins, Leslie and Lesley, always misplaced their things and blamed it on me too.

I went upstairs to my room and closed the door softly. My aunt hates it if I bang the door shut. It makes her head ache. Whereas, if Simon bangs it, which he usually does, she has no problem with it.

I go home and do my chores before taking a nap, or else my aunt keeps nagging me for being such a snail. She somehow found out that snails can sleep for three years straight and thus the metaphor.

The chores usually include cleaning up Simon's bedroom. He is such a paper trash freak. Aunt says that he will learn to keep his room clean when he grows up a bit. Boys of his age need to enjoy their life, not to keep their rooms clean.

Yeah right! I haven't seen any other seventeen year old boy being encouraged by his mother to keep his room dirty. If seventeen year old boys need to enjoy their lives, why don't sixteen year old girls get to do so. For example, me.

But I love cleaning his room up.

It is always full of crumpled pieces of paper which are not at all difficult to pick up. Messy notepads and sheets full of his spidery handwriting are strewn on the floor which I am not allowed to touch. But I do touch them anyway. They're full of fascinating stuff. Big and small, thick and thin, all kinds of books are scattered on his bed, and rarely in the bookshelf. There are four tables in his room. All of the them are covered with written material or writing material. The wall beside his bed is covered with scribbles of formulas, equations and derivations etc.

It doesn't look like a room of a teenage boy. Yet it is.

My cousin, Simon, is a very strange boy. He is a genius. A pure, sulky, sour faced genius.

He is also very popular at school. Maybe because of his long messy hair. Or his specific faded jeans, pink coloured shirt and brown snickers which were originally white. Or maybe because of the fact that his dark eyes are always staring into space and he is always unaware of his surroundings. Even if the person talking to him suddenly turns into a chirping bird, he won't notice it. He doesn't even know that I go to the same school as his.

So, back to his room. I love cleaning it because it is the only way I can go inside without being yelled at. I am crazy about reading and scientific discoveries. I love all his books and continually smuggle them to my room.

I get to read the real version of everything my genius cousin writes. But while hiding, as my aunt doesn't approve of anything I actually enjoy. I read them before they get published. Lucky me.

This makes me a genius too, because I usually understand what he has written. Even though it is written for scientific committees dealing with astronomy, geology, microbiology and many other subjects, even astrology.

On the contrary, atleast I know that I'm a genius. Not as genius as Simon, but only a bit less. While Simon is clearly unaware of the fact. He lives in a world of facts and figures and probably thinks that it is normal for a seventeen year old to write mind blowing articles and essays, and to discuss celestial objects with middle aged people wearing white coats.

Sometimes he even failed to recognise me as me in the hallways at school.

~~~few months ago~~~

"Hey, Simon," I waved.

"Do I know you?" he asked, scowling at me.

"I'm Mary. Your one and only cousin," I reminded him.

"Oh! Hi Mary. What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I study here. This is my school," I answered.

"I guess I didn't see you around anywhere," he said.

"Yeah, that's it," I replied, nodding. I saw no point in telling him that I usually meet him in the hallways and say hi.

"Of course, I..." he stopped mid sentence.

I saw the familiar dreamy look return to his eyes. It was probably the first time in his life that he had such a long conversation without spacing out.

After this conversation he thought that he had two cousins named Mary, one in school and the other at home.

~~~

I opened the door to Simon's bedroom and stepped inside. I was surprised to see him inside. He was usually came home late. He was sitting on his bed, chewing a pencil, staring at a book he had recently bought.

"Ahem," I cleared my throat.

"What!" He jumped with fright.

I tried hard to stifle my laughter but failed.

"Hi," I said, laughing.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, clearly annoyed at my reaction.

"Your mother asked me to clean up your room," I said.

"I am not a baby. I can keep my room clean by myself," he scowled.

"I know that, but I think your mother doesn't," I said.

"Then go tell her that," he spat.

"Alright," I said and tiptoed outside.

He was angry on being disturbed while he was busy absorbing all the information from his new book.

My mouth watered at the thought of the big, fat and delicious book in his hands. I couldn't wait for him to leave his room so that I could sneak it to my room and have a tiny bit of peek inside.

Simon spent all his pocket money and the money he received from science councils or the government or the newspapers to buy more books.

I am very lucky to have him as a cousin. I can read all the books without paying anything for them. The only problem was that I had to wait till he finished reading, absorbing and using the book to give rise to new hypothesis. This extended from several days to even years.

But this time, I couldn't wait. After lunch, when Simon went to discuss some stuff with his scientist buddies, I went inside his room and picked up 'The Quest'. I hid it under my shirt (just in case Ian was lurking about somewhere) and ran to my room, at the other end of the corridor.

I opened the book and started reading. I was so absorbed in it that I didn't hear Simon coming back from the meeting.

A couple of hours after stealing the book, I heard someone yelling downstairs.

I ran to the source and saw Simon pacing across the kitchen, shouting till his voice got hoarse.

Oh! I had no idea that he would be back so soon. Usually it took them till midnight to discuss their work.

"I am SAYING, I put the book under my bed. Who the hell stole it from UNDER MY BED?" screamed Simon.

Was he talking about 'The Quest'. I had picked it up from under his bed. Oh why was I so stupid. I shouldn't have taken it. I knew he was using it as he kept it close to his bed which he used as a working desk.

"What is its title?" asked his mother, trying to calm him down.

My mouth turned dry as I turned to go.

"THE QUEST!" I heard him shout, as I exited the kitchen.

Aunt hadn't paid any attention to me because of the way Simon was yelling, or I was bound to get blamed. I ran upstairs to my room, picked up the book and flew to his room.

I threw it on the first table I saw, and re entered my room just as Simon was ascending the stairs.

"Mary! Where are you. Find Simon's book, you lazy snail," his mother yelled from the kitchen.

"Yes, aunt," I yelled back.

God! There was lot of yelling going on in the house. If a yelling match is conducted, our household will win it without any difficulties. We are used to yelling at each other.

There is bound to be yelling if nine people live in the same house, not to mention seven of them being the offsprings of an international yeller (my aunt).

Cousin 1, aged 17: Simon (eccentric)

Cousin 2, aged 15: Lily (malicious)

Cousin 3, aged 14: Margaret (oppressive)

Cousin 4 + 5, aged 11: Leslie and Lesley (twins) (mischievous)

Cousin 6, aged 9: Ian (pain in the butt)

Cousin 7, aged 8: Caroline (sweet)

I walked into Simon's room and faced him. "So what's the title?" I asked him simply.

I used to fear Simon when he was in a temper, but that was some years ago. Then somehow I found out that he never yelled at me or said anything hurtful to me, even if was in an extreme rage. But he was unaware of my name most of the times I talked to him. I couldn't blame him. He even forgot his own name sometimes.

"The Quest," he answered.

"Oh, is this it?" I walked directly to the table where I had put it, threw it to be more precise, which was a big mistake as I soon found out (the walking directly to the table, not throwing the book).

I picked up the book and waved it in front of his face.

A frown appeared on his broad forehead.

"I didn't put it there."

"Maybe you were in a hurry and put it there and then forgot where you had put it."

"Why would I keep my geology book on that table. It doesn't belong over there."

Wow! I was wrong. He was organised, but in his own disorganised way. If you get what I mean.

"I don't know," I said simply.

"It wasn't there when I looked," he said.

"You may have forgotten to look at the table."

"And you who knew nothing about it, directly went to that table. It does make sense," he frowned.

My legs felt weak. I had absolutely no idea that he was as observant as this to note that I went to the table without any hesitation.

"I got a glimpse of the cover," I stuttered.

"I don't want to see this book ever again. Remove it from my sight," he growled, suddenly getting angry.

My mouth fell open, I stood staring at him. He snatched the book out of my hands and flung it outside the room.

For once, I was glad to leave his room. I picked up the book, pressed it to my chest and ran to my room. I shut the door quickly and locked it. I couldn't control my emotions.

Oh! It was lovely. My very own book, at last. Maybe I could do that again. Hide his book till he gets angry at the book (sounds weird, right) and demands it to be removed from his sight.

Author's note :

Hi!

Cousin Simon above/ to the side.

I am very sorry for the late update. I have too much to study as my exams are near.

Anyways, this chapter is long and thus should be given more applause (votes, comments etc).

I have a question, you all must know Snape from Harry Potter, do you have any teacher like Snape? Also give a reason or an incident about him/her acting like Snape.

Do tell me in the comments. I'll look forward to your answers. The most extreme one will win a dedication in the next chapter.

Goodbye!