Ouch...

"Do you wanna play football?" I asked my brother.

We had came from school ready to have some fun. I promised him yesterday that we were gonna play, but I had too much homework. Today did play football. Actually the only thing we did was passing the ball to each other. We "played" for about 15 minutes, then my mom came.

She brought us some "gifts". My mom bought my brother a soccer ball--his fourth one--and bought me a basketball. I have always liked basketball. I am tall so I have an advantage. We started to play soccer because my brother asked me first. (We also passed the ball to each other because we suck at soccer even though my brother thinks he's a pro...) We played for quite a while, but then my toes started hurting. I told Santiago to change sport so we started playing basketball.

From the very beginning it was a bad idea. I knew that my brother was afraid of the ball. He wasn't going to catch it. I threw the ball to him after dribbling for some time. I wanted to practice a little because I haven't played for a long time. I just play basketball in PE once in a while and the only thing that I do is shooting.

So I threw the ball to him. It wasn't strong enough because he didn't catch it on the first bounce. In the second one he extended his hands and went straight to his finger.

"Ahhhhhhh!" he shouted.

"Oh no..." I just thought.

He was crying desperately because he had hurt his finger. I came towards him to ask him if he was all right. He looked at me madly and shouted. He said that it was my fault.

"It wasn't! You were the one that didn't catch it!" I replies madly.

My mom came to see what had happened. As I thought, she asked me what had happened.

"He got hurt with the ball and he says it is my fault," I replied calmly because if I shouted she would have been mad at me. It is complicated.

My mom looked at Santiago and went back to the house. At least I didn't get in trouble this time...