Riley slept on the bottom bunk. That had been decided when their mom brought the bed home. She didn't help build it though, in fact, she even neglected to provide all the parts, even the tools needed to assemble it. But Christian had improvised and figured it out. As his reward for putting it together, and committing to what he knew would be a lifetime of maintenance, he had claimed the coveted top bunk.

Riley knew it was unusual for two siblings to share a room, even for half-siblings. All of her friends back home casually spoke of their private quarters as if they were a constitutional right. Some of them even had their own bathrooms. But she had gotten used to the accommodations though, and was fond of her brother anyway. She felt an even stronger bond with him now that she would be joining him next year at his school.

She rolled onto her back and pulled the thin blanket up to her chin. Riley stared up at the bottom of her brother's mattress through the slats and waited. Christian normally took a while to fall asleep. Riley wasn't sure if he ever did sleep since he tossed and turned until her eyelids grew heavy and she eventually dozed off. The periodic squeaks from the frame were normally perfectly in line with his reliable tossing and turning.

School was still two weeks away, but Riley's excitement had kept her up. Instead of slipping into a peaceful dream that took her far away from their small, two-bedroom home with its numerous structural issues, Riley just continued staring listlessly upward. Her ears suddenly perked up. Riley rose to her elbows.

There was something unusual about the quiet rattling from above. It wasn't consistent with the shifting weight of a teenage boy that she was accustomed to. It was more constant and stealthy like it was a secret she wasn't supposed to hear. She sat up tall and gingerly stretched her hand toward the bottom part of his mattress only to pull away abruptly when she felt it move like she had actually touched her brother.

The sound continued though. And when she focused her eyes, she could see the source. Her eyes honed in on the subtle, shifting movement of the slats above. Those wooden supports that the mattress rested on buckled. Then, again. It was dark and it was late. Riley could barely see. She was tired and suspected her mind was playing tricks on her. But it kept going. She hoped it would stop, but over the next several minutes it not only continued in a slow melodic drone, but it began to grow louder. She wasn't worried the whole thing would come tumbling down on top of her, Riley was more concerned that she might make a noise. She definitely did not want to have that awkward conversation with her new brother. She held her breath.

The home was small and afforded very little privacy considering there was only a single bathroom. But still, it was impossible to suspect her brother had been biding his time, waiting for her to fall asleep, and then Riley shook her head and then very quietly laid it back down on the pillow.

There was a new sound—a squirt bottle, like the soap dispenser near the sink. Then, the sound of hands rubbing together like they were being washed. But no one washed their hands for that long, and certainly, no one washed their hands in bed in the middle of the night. After a moment the sounds picked up again. Riley covered her ears and closed her eyes. That was a mistake. Instead of just the mysterious darkness, her mind now tried to piece it together on her behalf, and without her permission.

She imagined her brother above her, only in his boxers. They were down around his thighs, and his penis stood tall, pointing up toward the ceiling. It was big, or at least that's how she pictured it based on all those subtle clues over the last month. She had seen the outline through his baggy basketball shorts, and after all, he only slept in his boxers. Sometimes she could see it through the opening as he leaped up onto his bed, or even through the narrow gap in the leg when he sat at their desk. Her mind had taken all that information and put together a graceful, smooth erection with the same complexion as his medium-brown skin. She gasped.

The sound stopped, and all movement above her ceased. Riley's heart pounded in her chest. She opened her eyes and peered over the mounds on her chest and beyond to the exposed skin of her stomach sitting just below her shirt. She froze.

Riley would have given anything to take it back. She felt herself wanting to hear that sound again like she wanted her brother to feel comfortable enough to do that in her presence. She didn't mind; far from it. She was excited, more curious than anything. Riley had questions, so many questions she wanted to blurt out to her brother above. What was he thinking about? How often did he do this? What kind of girls did he like? Had he ever kissed a girl? Was he thinking about that skinny white girl they both saw today?

Instead, though, she pretended to snore. She wasn't sure if she even did snore at night, but she wanted to communicate to her brother, to give him some signal it was OK to continue. She almost laughed at how silly it was, but then the image of his big penis penetrated her thoughts once again. That's when she noticed her nipples were peering back at her through her top. For the first time she hadn't worn a bra to bed, she'd even made a last-minute decision before slipping under her covers to remove her panties too.

It didn't make any sense, there was no reason for it. It was just something she felt she needed to do. She had convinced herself that the rest of her sleep attire would more than make up for it. But the pajama bottoms barely covered her waist and her shirt had slid up her stomach above her belly button. Riley shifted to try and get more comfortable but it was no use. It's like she wasn't herself.

This irrational behavior was all new to her. She tried to convince herself it was just hormones. She'd been excited before when she saw cute boys at her school, she knew what that felt like. But this was different and she never imagined those feelings could get so powerful that they would make it difficult for her to keep her eyes open. Goosebumps shot up her arms, and her palms were cool and clammy. Riley even struggled to contain her breathing, but that was impossible. She couldn't just tell herself to calm down after she felt like she'd just run a marathon. The moment she heard it again, she forced her knees together.

Her thighs rubbed up against each other and her creative imagination resumed. Both his hands were stacked on top of each other now, slowly sloshing up and down his penis with lotion spilling out between his fingers. She wasn't sure if that was how he did it, but it looked right in the mental images she'd generated in her mind. It was more like a movie, replaying the same clip over and over. Then it panned to his face. She could see bright white teeth clenched tightly together, and his eyes were closed. He was thinking about her. He must have been.

Quiet panting from above permeated downward. Slow and steady at first, then it turned into incoherent whispers. He was talking to someone, he was speaking to the girl he was with.

"Suck it, please suck it," she thought she heard him say.

No. There's no way he would—then again.

"Put it in your mouth, please. I just want you to—oh God, yes, just like that. Oh my God, I can't believe you're... You're..."

She thrust one hand between her legs, then the other, cupping herself right over her leggings. In that instant, she felt something new and exciting, but more importantly, she felt like this would impress that mysterious girl she'd seen earlier. Even though it wasn't as scandalous as flashing people in public, it still made her proud. There wasn't a huge crowd to see, it was just her and her brother, but that was more than enough. As she pressed harder with the pads of her fingertips, manipulating herself through her clothes, she realized it was more than just pride that was driving her.

Riley's pajamas had become damp, she could feel it through her fingers. She could smell herself. It was so strong, and surprised her so much, that she shuddered. Then again. Soon, she was breathing as hard as her brother.

His sloppy hands paused for a moment. Christian listened, not daring to move, and trying to stifle his strong urge to keep going. At first, he was afraid, but as the seconds ticked by, he was more curious than anything. He listened until he was certain. There was no denying what his sister was doing down below, not with those soft sounds coming from her lips. He could hear her small hands rubbing over fabric, and he could feel the vibrations of her hips through the shoddy bed frame. Slowly, he resumed.

The answer to all of his sister's questions would have been disappointing. He'd never kissed a girl, or even held hands with one. All he could do was fantasize about them, to think privately to himself what they would feel like and taste like. And right now he was thinking about his sister touching herself. He thought she'd laugh if she knew this was the furthest he'd gone with a girl—that masturbating right next to his sister was the extent of his sexual exploits.

He didn't care though, the thrilling noises spilling from his sister's mouth clouded his mind. He thought about how Riley would sit at their desk, kneeling on the chair and leaning over the table in her tight jean shorts. And sometimes when she thought he was distracted, she would do it in only her towel. Of course, he couldn't see anything, and most of the time she would sit like a proper lady and blow dry her hair. But he still loved seeing her wet, brown thighs when she was fresh from the shower.

He wanted nothing more than to shout down to her, to have her pose like that for him now so he could tell her how good she looked. Christian pulled his boxers down further and gripped himself.

He held it with both hands. He didn't have to, but he liked that he could. Christian pumped his hips up off the mattress, pushing his shaft deep into his fists. He didn't care about the noise anymore. He wanted her to hear his slimy fingers running up and down his penis, and the rattling of the bed as he touched himself.

Again he whispered, "The boys are going to love you, they're going to want your cute body so bad."

She hoped it was her, the girl he was talking to. No one had ever said anything like that to her before, no one had even noticed her. Even after her breasts began to grow, and her small bottom began to fill out, people still treated her like a little girl. That irritated her. She'd been working since she was fourteen. She had her driver's license since she was sixteen and had practically raised her nephews. Riley slipped a hand under her shirt and sighed. It was quiet, but Christian noticed.

He spoke slowly, softly, "Are you getting wet?”

Silence. A long, deafening pause.

"Check it for me," he whispered, "reach down and touch yourself."

She waited for a moment, but not to think. There was no thinking; she'd forgotten how. There was only time ticking by while her mind was blank. Eventually, her impatient hands found their way into her pants. They brushed over the area between her legs. Christian was right.

"It's..." she began in her shy voice, "it is..."

"What?" He bucked so hard that the bed teetered on three of its four legs.

"My, my. It's—oh my God it's so—”

There was a sudden knock at the door. Their mother spoke to them in Spanish.

"Kids, go to sleep. I have work tomorrow morning. Please if you love your mom get some sleep."

Christian cursed under his breath. He was just seconds away from letting loose all over himself.

Neither of them said a word. The rusty metal bed frame, the whispers, the panting, the breathing—they all simply disappeared as if they never existed. The uneasy silence that took their place felt louder than all of those things combined. But it was enough to satisfy their mom whose footsteps could be heard leading back to her bedroom over the old, wooden floor. Her door closed behind her.

Though she had found some peace at least, the beating hearts of the two teenagers were unrelenting. Neither of them even tried to sleep. They just lay there, imagining what the other was doing, how their bodies were oriented, the state of their clothes, and what their face looked like.