Adventures with My Brother (Who’s Always Late)"

My brother, Max, is late for everything.

Late for school.

Late for dinner.

Late for birthdays (including his own one year).

And today, he was late for our biggest adventure yet: The Annual Park Ranger Junior Explorer Challenge.

We had planned it for weeks. It’s this huge outdoor scavenger hunt in our local forest preserve, and the winner gets a golden compass, their photo in the local newspaper, and a year of bragging rights at school. As the little sister with zero sports trophies, I needed this.

I was ready at 7:00 a.m. sharp—backpack loaded, sneakers double-knotted, water bottle filled. Mom had packed us snacks, and I’d already memorized the trail map.

Max? Still brushing his teeth at 7:23. Still trying to find one sock at 7:41. Still trying to decide which of his “adventure hats” to wear at 7:55.

“I swear, Max,” I said as we biked furiously toward the park entrance. “If we miss check-in, you owe me five bags of sour worms and your Halloween candy.”

“Deal,” he huffed. “But I’m telling you—late doesn’t mean last.”

We skidded to a stop at the ranger table just as they were closing the sign-in sheet. The ranger, a woman with a whistle and a no-nonsense clipboard, gave Max a sharp look but let us join.

“Team Late,” she muttered. “You’ve got until 1:00 p.m. to collect all five items. Don’t get lost. Don’t eat wild berries. Don’t annoy the squirrels.”

“Check, check, and… depends on the squirrel,” Max said with a grin.

We grabbed our scavenger list and dashed into the woods. The first task was to find a leaf bigger than your head. Easy. We headed toward Maple Loop, where the oldest trees grew. I spotted the perfect leaf hanging on a low branch.

Just as I reached for it, a blue jay dive-bombed me.

“Ack!” I yelped, stumbling back. The leaf fluttered to the ground and… Max stepped on it.

“Oops,” he said. “Let’s find another.”

“Oops? That was a monster leaf!”

He just laughed and offered me half a granola bar. “It’s okay, we’ve got time.”

“Not if you keep being late to everything!” I groaned.

But he wasn’t even listening—he was staring into the trees.

“What is it now?”

“Shhh… do you hear that?”

I paused. There was a rustling sound, low and close.

“It’s either a chipmunk or a really small bear,” he whispered.

Suddenly, out popped a tiny golden retriever puppy, wagging its tail and yipping.

“Awwww!” I dropped to my knees. “Where did you come from?”

The pup had a pink collar but no tags. She was muddy, shivering, and clearly lost.

Max knelt beside me. “We have to help her.”

“But we’re in the middle of a scavenger hunt!”

He looked at me seriously. “She’s scared. She needs us. Golden compasses can wait.”

I sighed. This was classic Max—late for life but always right where it mattered most.

“Okay,” I said. “New mission: Operation Rescue Pup.”

We wrapped the puppy in Max’s hoodie and took turns carrying her as we followed signs back toward the ranger station. Halfway there, the trail was blocked by a fallen tree. We tried climbing over, but Max’s backpack got caught and tore open—sending our snacks, map, and water bottle flying into the bushes.

“Well,” Max said, brushing off dirt, “at least I saved the sour worms.”

“You’re the worst,” I laughed.

We finally made it to the ranger station, panting and muddy. The ranger blinked at us.

“Didn’t expect Team Late back early. What happened?”

We told her about the puppy. Her face softened.

“I’ve been hearing reports about a lost dog all morning. Her name’s Luna. Her owners are frantic.”

As if on cue, a woman in hiking boots and tears came running up the path. “LUNA!”

The puppy barked and leapt into her arms. The woman hugged Max and me and said, “You two are heroes.”

Max grinned at me. “Told you. Late doesn’t mean last.”

The ranger handed us a special patch: “Junior Rangers – Kindness Mission.”

It wasn’t a golden compass. But it felt better.

That night, as we sat in the backyard roasting marshmallows, Max nudged me.

“Hey, thanks for not quitting on me. Even when I’m late.”

I looked at my brother—the guy who forgets socks but remembers kindness.

“You’re still buying me five bags of sour worms,” I said.

He grinned. “Fair enough. And next year? I’ll be on time.”

“Sure you will.”

We both knew he wouldn’t.

But somehow, the best adventures always happen when Max is late.