I knew something was wrong when Will decided to do his homework as soon as he came home. He wouldn't do that unless he was having a bad day and needed an excuse to be left alone. Normally, Will would put off the task of homework until he couldn't delay it any longer and he had to do it. I figured it would blow over by tomorrow, but I've been wrong before.

But he was the same way the next day, and that's when I knew something was wrong. And as his big brother, I had to talk to him about it. He wasn't even eating his favourite snack (double chocolate cookies) or playing Candy Crush Saga. I braved the lion's den after lunch.

"Hey, Will," I said.

"Go away, Jake," Will replied. I'm Jake, by the way. I'm his brother.

"I'm not going to go away, Will. You've been acting different and I want to know why," I told him, sitting on his bed. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Will said quickly. Too quickly, as far as I was concerned.

"If it was nothing, you wouldn't be in such a bad mood. Now, you've got one last chance to tell me the truth. What happened?"

"Nothing!" Will wasn't going to talk, then I would make him talk. And I knew exactly how to do that.

"Look, I've had it with you, Will. You either tell me why you're sulking or I give you my famous Boa Constrictor," I told him, as I grabbed his waist and kept a tight grip around him. A tight grip that became tighter with every second. Will struggled and kicked, but he was no match for my superior strength.

"Let me go! This is stupid!" Will squealed, as he gasped for air.

"Tell me what I want to know if you want to breathe," I told him. He cracked like an egg.

"It's this kid in school who's got it in for me. His real name is Curtis, but everyone calls him the Snack Snatcher," Will explained to me.

"Why'd they call him that?" I asked.

"That's what he does. He steals food from people at lunch every day. You either give up your lunch or you get a black eye. I didn't want to get hurt, but I tried to tell him to leave me alone. It felt like everyone was laughing at me," Will explained. I sat on my hands so I wouldn't ball them up into fists. Oh, this Curtis kid was a dead man walking. I formulated a plan to stop him in his tracks.

"So . . . Will? You want to stop the Snack Snatcher? Well, you listen to me . . ."


The next day at lunch, I sat next to Will and waited for the Snack Snatcher to arrive for his daily fill of my little brother's food. And that was when I finally saw him.

Curtis was incredibly short, but, like most bullies I'd seen, made up for it by being ridiculously fat. This kid looked to be about as wide as he was tall, and he was looking at my little brother's sandwiches like a snake looking at a mouse before it swallows the poor rodent whole.

"Hey, loser, you have my food there," he grunted, pointing with one of his sausage-like fingers to my brother's sandwiches.

Will had had enough of the bratty butterball by now, and that's when he yelled, "THAT IS MY FOOD. IT IS NOT FOR YOU."

Curtis stared, blinked, and burst out laughing. "You don't understand, wimp. All the food here is my food. And that means this is my sandwich." With that said, a chubby hand snatched my little brother's sandwiches and took a big bite out of it. He chewed, swallowed . . . and turned green.

"Everything OK?" I asked.

"I've changed my mind. This is definitely yours," Curtis moaned, trying to give the half-eaten sandwich back. But Curtis wasn't in control anymore. Will was.

"No. That is your food now. You've just eaten some. I can't have it now," Will explained, like he was talking to a baby. "Unless you're scared of one little sandwich?"

Everyone laughed at Curtis, who was really pissed off now. "Course not!" he yelled. "And I'll prove it to you!" He ate the rest of the sandwich, swallowing it as fast as he could so he didn't have to taste it. Once he was finally done, he cheered, patted his chest . . . and threw up.

"I told you, Will," I boasted. "My plans always work."