I never really hated my sister; I just never really liked her until later in life. She was older, smarter, more responsible… the good kid, and I resented her for it. I would harass her and tease her whenever I could to vent this frustration I had. I went too far one year, though. We were at the beach, the entire family, and she had brought this book that she loved more than anything, signed by the author. Our father had gotten it for her, and she sat there on the beach, reading it obnoxiously. Like showing off how smart she was, so I just took it and chucked it into the ocean. She wouldn't talk to me for the rest of the vacation, but I didn't care.