Make pride.

"Don't disappoint me," she says. It's more of a warning really. "Don't disappoint me, or you're getting a bus pass and you're going to U of H." Like going to the University of Houston is a punishment.
We sit there in silence, while the television plays muted german programs. The cliches come out. "I'm at the end of my rope; I don't know what do to get through to you; I feel like I'm talking to a wall."
My head is empty. This should be the perfect state of mind for meditation, yet I'm compelled to pay attention. "I know." I say. "I'm just lazy." I say. These answers are the truth, yet there's more I'm hiding. "I'm depressed." I should say. "I need counseling."
We tactfully avoid the subject of my brother until we run out of things to say. "Don't think that he's much better," she avoids my eyes and picks up her knitting. "He's just as bad. You may help out around the house and I really appreciate that. But he's better with his money."
"And his grades." I intone. All the important things, we both think. There's no hard feelings though.
"Make me proud." she commands. "Go study. Prove to me and yourself that you can succeed and have a good life." I gather my things and head to the stairs.
"Don't disappoint me." she says.
"Don't disappoint me." she warns.