Sowing the Seeds Part 3- Dillon
Title: Sowing the Seeds
Fandom: Power Rangers RPM
Summary: Seemingly every day events can change the course of a person's life. Five very different people were set on the path to become Power Rangers back when they were children, long before they ever knew their own destinies. These are their stories.
Rating: K/G/general audience
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Not mine. All that jazz.
Dillon pouted in his seat. His collar was too tight, but if he tugged at it his mom would smack his hand. He hated being dressed up and he hated being forced to sit through yet another boring ceremony. He was twelve years old. He had far better things to do than hang out at his sister’s school all night. He crossed his arms and huffed and slouched. They could make him sit here, but they couldn’t make him like it.
His mother fussed at his hair while the lights went down, and he swatted her hand away. This was a horrible way to spend a Friday night. He sighed dramatically and she glared at him. His father finally joined them in their seats, having gotten ‘Aya settled backstage. He tugged on Dillon’s suit jacket until he sat up straight. Dillon glared at the stage. She owed him big time for this.
Of course, just his luck, she was the last person to get up and read her essay. He had to sit through two kids per grade from kindergarten right up through fifth grade before his sister got her turn. She was ten and the last fifth grader to read. He was so bored. The night just kept dragging on and on. He just wanted it to be over already so he could get home to his video games. He had slowly inched his way back down the seat again. The only thing keeping him awake was the steady banging of his head against the chair. If he stopped, he’d probably die of boredom.
But then his sister was led on stage by her teacher. She had some papers in her hand and was assisted in getting them set up on the podium. Dillon’s father shoved him until he was upright. He didn’t get why a stupid essay was so important that he had to be there listening to it. She wrote essays all the time. Stupid school for the blind and their stupid presentations all the darn time. Every few months he had to sit in this old and smelly gymnasium and listen to a bunch of blind kids talk about all the life skills they were learning. He tried to covertly check his watch, hoping she wouldn’t be too long winded, but his mother kicked him and made him pay attention.
“My Hero,” his sister started. Her glassy eyes stared across the gymnasium, leveled above all their heads. Her hands trailed along the pages, reading the Braille she’d typed out. He groaned out loud. Some stupid essay about some stupid hero. It was probably about some singer or author or something. Or maybe it was even worse. It might be about Mom. He shuddered. How corny.
“A hero is a person you can rely on. A hero is somebody who always watches out for you, who does things for you even if he never gets thanks. Heroes don’t ask for rewards or recognition. They sacrifice everything for those in need. A hero is somebody you can look up to.” Dillon rolled his eyes. It was going to be one of those essays.
“The person I choose to write about is all that and so much more. I’m very lucky to have so many people in my life that love me and take care of me, but I’m luckiest of all because my hero is with me every single day. My hero is my brother, Dillon.” Well that made him sit up and pay attention. Him? He was her hero? She was just his little sister who he was always responsible for. He had no clue she thought so highly of him. He couldn’t fathom why.
“My brother holds my hand when we’re outside. He takes me to the park and tells me where to walk and where I can play. My brother gives me independence. He lets me explore my world and I know I’m always safe when he’s there. My brother would never let anything bad happen to me. He protects me. I can always count on him and he’s always right there when I need him. He never complains about helping me out. He never asks for thanks.” Well that part was blatantly untrue, but he supposed she’d never heard him complain to their parents about his responsibilities in regards to her. His mother was looking at him with pride and he felt a little shamed for having made such a fuss about coming to the presentation tonight. He turned his eyes back to the stage and his sister while she finished her essay.
“Dillon will never let me down. I couldn’t live without him. He gives me hope when I think it’s hopeless. He shows me faith when I think all is lost. He gives me strength when I think I can’t go on. My brother is my best friend, my hero, and I love him very much.” She collected her papers and her teacher came back on stage to lead her safely off while polite applause rang through the auditorium. Dillon could feel tears pricking at his eyes, but he stood up on his chair and clapped as hard and loud as he could. Maybe nobody else was making a big deal out of cheering her on, but he made it the most important thing he could do. He wanted her to hear him, to know he was there and he’d heard it all. He wanted her to hear the only way he could say thank you. She smiled out at the audience and he knew she’d understood. She always did.
At the end of the night, with her hand clasped firmly in his in the backseat of their mom’s car, he made a silent promise. He’d live up to all those words she said about him, no matter what. And Dillon always kept his promises. She was counting on him, and he’d go to the ends of the earth to make sure he never let her down.
Fandom: Power Rangers RPM
Summary: Seemingly every day events can change the course of a person's life. Five very different people were set on the path to become Power Rangers back when they were children, long before they ever knew their own destinies. These are their stories.
Rating: K/G/general audience
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Not mine. All that jazz.
Dillon pouted in his seat. His collar was too tight, but if he tugged at it his mom would smack his hand. He hated being dressed up and he hated being forced to sit through yet another boring ceremony. He was twelve years old. He had far better things to do than hang out at his sister’s school all night. He crossed his arms and huffed and slouched. They could make him sit here, but they couldn’t make him like it.
His mother fussed at his hair while the lights went down, and he swatted her hand away. This was a horrible way to spend a Friday night. He sighed dramatically and she glared at him. His father finally joined them in their seats, having gotten ‘Aya settled backstage. He tugged on Dillon’s suit jacket until he sat up straight. Dillon glared at the stage. She owed him big time for this.
Of course, just his luck, she was the last person to get up and read her essay. He had to sit through two kids per grade from kindergarten right up through fifth grade before his sister got her turn. She was ten and the last fifth grader to read. He was so bored. The night just kept dragging on and on. He just wanted it to be over already so he could get home to his video games. He had slowly inched his way back down the seat again. The only thing keeping him awake was the steady banging of his head against the chair. If he stopped, he’d probably die of boredom.
But then his sister was led on stage by her teacher. She had some papers in her hand and was assisted in getting them set up on the podium. Dillon’s father shoved him until he was upright. He didn’t get why a stupid essay was so important that he had to be there listening to it. She wrote essays all the time. Stupid school for the blind and their stupid presentations all the darn time. Every few months he had to sit in this old and smelly gymnasium and listen to a bunch of blind kids talk about all the life skills they were learning. He tried to covertly check his watch, hoping she wouldn’t be too long winded, but his mother kicked him and made him pay attention.
“My Hero,” his sister started. Her glassy eyes stared across the gymnasium, leveled above all their heads. Her hands trailed along the pages, reading the Braille she’d typed out. He groaned out loud. Some stupid essay about some stupid hero. It was probably about some singer or author or something. Or maybe it was even worse. It might be about Mom. He shuddered. How corny.
“A hero is a person you can rely on. A hero is somebody who always watches out for you, who does things for you even if he never gets thanks. Heroes don’t ask for rewards or recognition. They sacrifice everything for those in need. A hero is somebody you can look up to.” Dillon rolled his eyes. It was going to be one of those essays.
“The person I choose to write about is all that and so much more. I’m very lucky to have so many people in my life that love me and take care of me, but I’m luckiest of all because my hero is with me every single day. My hero is my brother, Dillon.” Well that made him sit up and pay attention. Him? He was her hero? She was just his little sister who he was always responsible for. He had no clue she thought so highly of him. He couldn’t fathom why.
“My brother holds my hand when we’re outside. He takes me to the park and tells me where to walk and where I can play. My brother gives me independence. He lets me explore my world and I know I’m always safe when he’s there. My brother would never let anything bad happen to me. He protects me. I can always count on him and he’s always right there when I need him. He never complains about helping me out. He never asks for thanks.” Well that part was blatantly untrue, but he supposed she’d never heard him complain to their parents about his responsibilities in regards to her. His mother was looking at him with pride and he felt a little shamed for having made such a fuss about coming to the presentation tonight. He turned his eyes back to the stage and his sister while she finished her essay.
“Dillon will never let me down. I couldn’t live without him. He gives me hope when I think it’s hopeless. He shows me faith when I think all is lost. He gives me strength when I think I can’t go on. My brother is my best friend, my hero, and I love him very much.” She collected her papers and her teacher came back on stage to lead her safely off while polite applause rang through the auditorium. Dillon could feel tears pricking at his eyes, but he stood up on his chair and clapped as hard and loud as he could. Maybe nobody else was making a big deal out of cheering her on, but he made it the most important thing he could do. He wanted her to hear him, to know he was there and he’d heard it all. He wanted her to hear the only way he could say thank you. She smiled out at the audience and he knew she’d understood. She always did.
At the end of the night, with her hand clasped firmly in his in the backseat of their mom’s car, he made a silent promise. He’d live up to all those words she said about him, no matter what. And Dillon always kept his promises. She was counting on him, and he’d go to the ends of the earth to make sure he never let her down.