“Two Scheids to the Story” is a column co-written by siblings Eddie and Grace Scheidler. As siblings often do, these siblings have different perspectives and opinions regarding issues and ideas prevalent in high school.

Grace Scheidler, senior. 

It’s a classic sibling trope: two high schoolers battling it out for the keys to the family car. Anyone with a sibling close enough in age knows how the sense of freedom that came with getting their license was immediately curbed by the knowledge of the fights to come.

Naturally, Eddie and I are no exception. While the problem was delayed somewhat by the fact that he didn’t get his license until August of this year (he turned 16 in April), as soon as he passed the test the quarreling began. During the school week this isn’t much of an issue, given that we both attend the same high school and he’s able to bum rides off friends after football practice, but weekends as of late have become problematic.

Now, if Eddie deigned to plan out his Saturday nights more than five minutes in advance, they might not be as much of an issue, because that way we could coordinate schedules. However, because it’s very rare to know much more beyond who he’s hanging out with (and even then that’s sometimes a surprise), much less where and at what time, coming to a compromise is next to impossible. With my friend group, if we don’t have a set plan, at the very least know whose house we’re going to.

And, while it may seem like a small thing, I always have my phone on me, fully charged and functioning. For some inexplicable reason, 7 times out of 10 Eddie’s phone will either be dead, powered off, or “not working”. Throughout the entirety of his sophomore year (and this year, too!) whenever he needed a ride on a Saturday night, he could always count on being able to call and have me pick him up.

Finally, as petty as it seems, there’s also something to be said for seniority. Next year, Eddie will have the car all to himself for his own senior year, so it is my opinion that if I want to take the car out on a Saturday night, I should be able to do so.

At the end of the day, however, nothing is set in stone. I’d be more than happy to work out a compromise for Friday nights and share the car if Eddie is willing to put in a little effort on his end, too. But for now, to keep things short and sweet, I think I deserve the car.

Eddie Scheidler, junior.

Fridays in the fall are the absolute best; the school week has come to an end, the weather isn’t too hot but right in that perfect middle ground, and most importantly, it’s football season. Personally, as a player, it’s those first few steps walking to my car after school that it finally hits me: I’ve got a game to play. From possibly bombing the math test to spilling chocolate milk all over my white sweatshirt, I try to put whatever it is that may have happened during the school day behind me and just focus on the game.

When I get home from school, I have little under an hour to eat something small, get all my gear ready, and begin hyping myself up with my classic, go-to pregame playlist. Tossing the keys on the kitchen counter, I head up to my room to grab the rest of my game uniform before thoroughly searching the fridge for any kind of enticing leftovers. Once I’ve got everything I need in my duffel and have Metallica blasting at full volume through my headphones, I make my way back down the stairs and to the kitchen, only this time the keys aren’t where I left them. Starting to panic because it’s now 4:25, I hustle over to the garage to make sure that the car is actually gone—and sure enough it is. Worst of all was that as appealing as driving my mom’s minivan may seem, that option, too, is off the table since her car wasn’t home either. Not to mention, if my dad hadn’t been at work, there was still no way he would ever let me take his car for a spin, even if it was just down the driveway and back.

So there I am, sitting at home, without a ride, twenty minutes before I have to be at West Campus–all thanks to my sister. My hope in that she was running a quick errand and would be home soon rapidly vanished with each passing minute drawing increasingly closer to five o’clock. Finally, out of the “goodness” of her heart, she decides to respond to the few–let’s just say friendly–text messages I had sent asking about her whereabouts. Her response was simple: “I’m older. I needed the car to get to my babysitting job. Now I’m gone.”

And that’s what set me off. Because of her, not only was I probably going to get an earful from the coaches for showing up late to the pregame meetings but I even risked losing playing time. On top of that, her idea was that solely due to the fact that she was a year older in age, she feels entitled to have unlimited access to the car whenever she wants, despite any reason I may have for actually needing to take the car.

Now, although I couldn’t tell you the exact amount of times I’ve heard, “Don’t worry, you’ll have the car all to yourself once I go to college,” from my sister Grace (I can guarantee you it’s somewhere in the couple dozen to say the least) it’s infuriating. I’m not entirely sure if she realizes it yet or not but basically, through her rationale, I have to be chauffeured around for the next year or so by my parents, friends, and most likely, her as well all due to a one year age discrepancy.

Nice try, Grace.

I really like the effort but there’s no chance of that ever happening, not for an entire year. Being the younger one in this specific situation requires me to be a tad bit more reasonable because unlike her, I can’t use age (the easy way out of a solid debate) to my advantage. The way I see it, what is clearly the most fair of the options, is that there should be a set schedule every weekend, switching off between the two of us to see who holds the keys to the good ole ‘05 Acura. Now, if someone were to have an important event or something come up unexpectedly, like *cough* a football game *cough*, on a weekend that wasn’t their scheduled week to have the car, they should be able to have full and absolute privilege of the car only after letting the other know and making them aware of what the deal is. Also, it will help us schedule our rides beforehand. She has friends with cars, too, you know. So really, when it comes down to it, my idea on who gets the car is as simple as your ABC’s–whomever has the more important event, especially if it’s school-related, gets the whip.