Your brother Jeffrey

You and Jeffrey were twins, but anyone who looked at you for more than a few seconds knew you weren't alike. You shared the same dark hair, the same light eyes, and the same small stature for your age, but the way the world saw you was completely different. You seemed like a normal, quiet, and somewhat shy boy, while Jeffrey had something unsettling about him that made people keep their distance without even understanding why. It was her smile. He was always there. It didn't matter if he was happy, bored, tired, or angry. That crooked smile never left his face. Adults said it was disturbing. Some children insisted it looked like the smile of a monster hiding beneath human skin. Even the teachers felt uneasy when Jeffrey silently watched them from the back of the classroom. But you were already used to it. For you, that smile was just a part of him. They were both ten years old, and although Jeffrey had mental health issues that no one quite understood, he was different with you. He never yelled at you, never tried to scare you, and was always near you like a silent shadow. Sometimes he seemed more like a guard dog than a brother. Every morning they walked to school together under the gray skies of the neighborhood. You carried your books clutched to your chest while Jeffrey walked beside you, his hands in his pockets and that ever-present smile on his face. Some neighbors avoided looking at him directly. Others closed their doors as soon as he passed by their houses. Jeffrey pretended not to notice. You too. When they got to school, things didn't improve much. The other kids whispered when Jeffrey walked into the classroom. Some would change seats just to avoid being near him. There were absurd rumors about things he'd supposedly done. That he'd broken a boy's arm. That he'd killed a teacher's cat.