Becky had a bad habit. She was my older sister, so I was very aquatinted with all her flaws. From taking too much time in the bathroom or talking too loudly in the library, Becky was like everyone else: flawed. However, flaws are normal because they don’t affect people other than her normally. This was the one bad habit of hers that I hated the most. “Who’s texting me?” she asked from behind the wheel. “Why don’t we switch spots? Then you can text all you want,” I suggested. I held her phone in my hand as she relayed a response to me. I guess this was better than her texting and driving with me in the car, but I noticed a lot of things. “And let you drive my car? No way,” she refused. “Tell Keith ‘I don’t have time today. Sorry.’ but make sure put in the crying emoji okay?” Sometimes, when Becky talked to Keith, she went faster than she usually did. She ran stop signs and red lights and went a lot faster on the highway than normal. “I don’t see that one. Here, just switch with me. It’s just like ten more minutes to the house,” I insisted. “No! You just got your license last week. I’ve been driving for years now. I can handle small distractions like this one. Hand it over,” she ordered. I looked at her. The car lurched forward as she came to a sudden stop as she just barely saw the crosswalk. A family walked across. “I can do it! Why won’t you let me?” I ask. She grabbed for her phone, and she swiped through the screen for the emoji she was looking for. She didn’t answer. Keith was already texting back. The crosswalk was clear, and cars were waiting behind us. A few minutes pass. I try to get her attention, but Becky just laughs at whatever is on screen. A car honks behind us. “Yeah, yeah,” Becky mutters as she presses down the gas. I look up and scream. “Whoa!” Becky yells as the car lurches forward again, and the woman we were just about to hit yells at us. Becky looks back at me, and then at the lady. The lady scornfully looks at us and walks the rest of the way. I stay quiet. Becky takes a breath, and turns into the parking lot again. Her phone chimes, and she looks at it. She turns the car into an empty space and turns off the car. I look at her. “Wanna drive?” she asks with a smile. I look back at her with a nod. I drive extra slow since this is my first time driving without Mom as the passenger seat. Becky keeps a careful watch as we go down the road. Her phone chimes from inside of her bag, but even though she’s not driving, she doesn’t take it out. My sister Becky has a bad habit, but fortunately, it didn’t take a tragedy for her to fix it.