“Get the hell out from under the bed, you wuss!” the pimply red-headed boy shouted.

The blonde boy refused to move. He sat, clutching his teddy, sucking his thumb like a five year old. “What if they grab me from the hallway?”

The redhead seethed and stomped his foot. Their mother heard it through the ceiling as she worked diligently in the kitchen. She turned to a different redhead boy at the table. “Patience, go help your brother, please.”

The boy rolled his eyes, but slid out from his chair. “Yes, mother.”

The pimply redhead glared at his twin brother. The two of them couldn’t have been more different—even their names were antonyms. But three times a day, every day, they did what they could to coax their younger brother from under his bed.

“Get out from under the bed now!” The foot came down even harder this time and a small sneakered foot poked through into the kitchen.

“Mother,” Patience’s voice came calmly, “I believe we might need new floorboards up here.”

Their mother groaned.