And, I owed that all to the contradiction living inside us both.
~
The drive to school wasn’t nearly long enough. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. It was long enough to undo all the progress I’d made standing in front of the mirror. By the time I pulled into a spot between a black Mercedes and silver VW, I was back to square one. I let Hattie idle a moment. I knew once I turned off the engine, the next step was to unbuckle my seatbelt and get out of the car. And I was not there yet.
I squeezed my eyes tight and focused. Instantly Jonah appeared, laughing hysterically and holding his belly because he thought that’s what you’re supposed to do when something is terribly funny. I opened my eyes, startled by the sound of my own laughter. As Jonah’s sweet face melted away, so did my smile. Sighing, I thought if only I could walk around all day with my eyes closed, then I wouldn’t have a chance to see any unfriendly faces.
Right, because that wouldn’t draw attention.
I turned off the car, spotting Jake and Emily walking toward the tree we occasionally met at. I chuckled. Having spent the first five years of her life in matching rompers and overall sets, Emily was extremely conscientious about avoiding the twin persona. She held very strong opinions about twins that dressed alike. In truth, Emily held strong opinions about nearly everything. Despite that, somehow she’d overlooked Jake’s identical color palette before leaving the house this morning. Each wore red tank tops; hers fitted and thinly strapped, and his baggy with the swooping holes for his arms. Even their hair looked similar. Even from twenty feet away, the starch white fluff was bright as the North Star.
I needed a plan; one that helped with the initial circumventing of appearing on campus unobserved. Really, whenever possible, my goal was to avoid people altogether. Although Shorecliffs’ main building was spic-and-span new, a fair amount of the campus consisted of older buildings, newly remodeled. Much of the original architecture, which included clandestine back paths and stairwells, had been left for historical preservation. It shouldn’t be that difficult at all to use those to my advantage. When I was through mapping out the least traveled routes, calculating how long I should wait till my classes cleared out, and the amount of time to wait before starting toward my following class, I felt much better. The relief lasted for ten brief seconds.
At the tree. Come find us when you get here.
As I read Emily’s text, I let the guilt take me. I deserved it. Here I was trying to avoid her, when all she was doing was trying to make everything less awful. But this was better. For Emily. Because of me she already had one detention. If I went over there now, who knew what would happen. In a group that size—nearing thirty now—the outcome could be determined by simple math. The odds were that at least one person would comment about yesterday; and when they did, I knew exactly what would happen. I would turn the color of a Red Hot and Emily would put herself in the middle.
No. I couldn’t put her in that position. Avoiding her was absolutely the right thing to do.
Outside my car I spied from behind the open door. Directly in front me, swarmed by backpacked bodies, Emily occasionally stood on her toes or checked her phone. Better for Emily, I reminded myself. The path to my left was wide open. Up the curb, around the hedge, and I then would be clear. About to slam the door and make a break for it, I paused. Instead of slamming it, it might be smarter if I just pressed my body into it, closing it gently rather than making a loud noise.
Don’t be ridiculous, Foster. There is such a thing as over doing it.
The entire school was arriving. In the last couple minutes alone, I’d heard at last six doors shut. I really doubted Emily, who was laughing with a tall boy with shaggy brown hair, would pick out the specific clunk my door made when it shut. However, because I lived in a world where the odds were constantly in opposition to my favor . . . that is exactly what happened.
From within the throng of people, Emily’s chin lifted, eyes locking with mine. She smiled, waving her hand vigorously to signal me over. This gesture, of course, resulted in every other head turning in my direction. In that split second, I had to literally force my body to stay upright, wanting desperately to duck down behind the door of my car. Still, with nearly sixty eyeballs on me, Jake was the only one that waved. Everyone else squinted, and then whirled back around as if they’d never seen me.
Well . . . that was something, at least. Maybe Emily was right; maybe enough time had passed that nobody cared. Maybe everything would go back to normal—including our comfortable friendship. As I made my way across the grass, droplets of water shot up, dotting the fronts of my shoes. About halfway there I peeked up, noticing Emily was no longer smiling. In fact she looked stern—mouth downturned and moving rapidly. Usually when her good mood turned this abruptly, Jake was nearby to take responsibility. Surprisingly, he was standing a distance away, flanked by two boys holding surfboards. Beside Emily a girl nodded. Their heads turned at the same time. For a second I thought the girl might have been about to look at me; however, her eyes passed me over like the nondescript object you dismiss on the way to finding what you are really looking for.
When I was just a few feet away, Emily’s face altered again. This time it was like she’d been splashed with a bucket of unadulterated happiness. I stepped up to the outskirts of the large ring of people. Emily moved over, making room for me.
“Hey, Fost!”
I had hoped she would be mid-conversation, but the group was nearly silent. “Hi, Em,” I whispered. I offered a quick wave in Jake’s direction. He was scratching his head, hand barely visible, but lifted it to offer a hefty wave. Even if I was only deluding myself, I was going to pretend as if it was just the three of us.
Emily touched my arm. “So, how was your drive?” I stared at her curiously. Living one street over from me, Emily knew as well as I that driving to school was hardly an eventful experience.
“My—my drive?” I repeated.
“Yeah,” she nodded, fiddling with the E at her throat. “To school?”
“Um.” I sidled a glance at Jake, him captivated with his fingernails. “It was . . .”
“Good?” she finished helpfully. She moved a fraction to the right, smiling into my view. I met her eyes and nodded. Somewhere within the circle, I heard muffled snickering. Emily’s pleasant smile remained, but her eyes went cold with . . . with something I couldn’t quite name. Casually, as if she were merely slaking an itch, she rested her chin on her shoulder. Before she was smiling into my face again, two girls had broken off from the group and left. “Hey!” Emily chirped as I followed their departure. “I have been craving a smoothie since last night. You want to get one after school?”
It occurred to me that not only was Emily’s first question odd, but something else was off as well. Every time I started to look away, Emily moved her body in the direction I aimed my gaze. “I can’t today. I have something to do right after school,” I said vaguely. “Tomorrow, maybe?”
She calibrated again. “Yeah, sure, of course.”
As surreptitiously as I could, I scanned faces around a constantly vacillating Emily. Only Jake seemed somewhat at ease. When he saw me watching him, he waved. Odder still, it was completely normal for their friends to subconsciously overlook me. I had no reason to speak around them, unless Emily or Jake asked me a direct question.
But their friends weren’t overlooking me—they were ignoring me. And ignoring took effort.
I made note of every persons’ current activity—or lack thereof: looking at feet, texting, picking at a loose fiber from a shirt, blowing a bubble, kicking the ground, scratching an elbow. The boy beside Jake was actually looking toward the sky and whistling. What is going on? It was as if they were doing everything they could not to look . . .
No . . . no, no, NO! She didn’t! She wouldn’t do that! But as I looked again, I knew for certain she had and absolutely would.
Coughing from a sharp intake of air, I involuntarily took a few steps backward. My skin
reacted as I tried to wrap my head around what had taken place a few moments before I arrived. The conversations suddenly trailing off, Emily’s stern face, the rapid mumblings, Jake’s overly nonchalant behavior, and the two laughing girls who left after receiving what I now understood was a silent banishing. Emily had warned them all—likely even threatened them. They were to act as if I wasn’t there, just like normal. Only that was precisely it; they were acting! And, there was nothing normal about it. Emily had staged this interaction because she thought this is what I needed to see. And because these were their friends, instead of saying no, or going elsewhere to be a part of a normal conversation, they had stayed.
Stares and whispers I had prepared for. This . . . this was . . .
You need to leave.
“I need to leave,” I said, my quavering voice belying my false bravado. “I forgot, I have to . . . to take notes, write down the formulas, actually, for a Chemistry test, in second period.”
“Fost, come on,” Emily replied, “Since when do you need to study for anything?”
I felt the eyes of a few brave souls look askance as we chatted.
“Well.” I stepped back again. “Don’t want to mess up a good thing, right?” I flashed a smile and fled.
This wasn’t Emily’s fault. This production, this misguided attempt at fixing everything came as a result of me not being careful. I had slipped up yesterday. In the shock and awe my guard had come down, and I allowed her to see a part of me, a very small part that would eventually come back to hurt me. I had to stop this now. Letting Emily care this much was out of the question.
“Crap. Crap-crap-crap. Jake,” Emily hissed, “she knows.”
“Oh, you think, Sherlock?”
The sound of two pairs of sandals hitting the wet grass crept upon me. Emily took my left, Jake my right.
“I told you it was a dumb idea,” Jake announced.
“Of course it was dumb,” Emily growled back, “it was yours.”
“No way. I said we should stage a fight, not go all amnesia, like it didn’t happen. That crapper was all you, dude.”
“Right,” Emily said, in monotone. “Starting a fight would have been a lot more convincing. Because we only do that, like, every thirty seconds.”
“Yeah, so? And forcing everyone to act like circus monkeys was better?”
“Jake, you were born a monkey. Dad told me he could have made a fur coat from all the hair on your body. They called you gorilla baby.”
“Oh . . . so that wasn’t you I found shaving her mustache in her bathroom?”
“You shut your mouth or I swear I will tell every last person you about the time you fell in the pile of—”
“Okay-k-k-k-shhhhh-shh-shyaa!”
“Yeah, thought so.”
I stopped abruptly. Jake and Emily flew past me, halted in twin-sync and walked back. I swallowed back a wave of hysteria and tried to smile. “Both of you,” I said, “I appreciate what you tried to do, but it’s not necessary. I’m fine.”
“Fost, we’re sorry,” Emily said emphatically.
“Super sorry,” Jake added.
“It was idiotic of us to try and trick you.”
“Yeah,” Jake agreed, eyes remorseful. He cupped his hand around my shoulder. “Emily’s ideas are always terrible. I should have tried to stop her.”
Before Emily could strike her brother again I put up my hands. “Jake, Em, it’s fine. Really. I know you guys were only trying to help. I’m fine, really.”
“Yeah. I believe you.” Emily folded her arms over her chest. “But could you maybe say ‘fine’ or ‘really’ one more time?”
A cluster of six teenagers walked by—people not recruited as part of the charade, and perhaps a grade or two below us. They stared, perplexed, struggling to place my face. Then one whispered to another who shook their head, and suddenly clarity struck someone else and then everyone was in on it.
“What?” Emily noticed she had lost my attention and turned to see what I was looking at. “Oh, you all like laughing, do you?”
“Em, no,” I demurred.
“Well, me too. I like laughing. Love it, actually,” Emily said, taking a few steps forward. “How about we all take a moment and laugh, hm? Let’s start with you, and that little buddy you got on your chin. Ever heard of Proactiv, dude? Or a tissue? And you—I can actually see Jupiter reflecting off your forehead. And whoever told you you’d look good as a blonde, must really hate you.”
“Em, please.”
Jake put his arm around my shoulder. “It’s no good, Fost. We’ve lost her to the dark side. She’ll come back eventually.”
“Good try, but I can see your mustache melting. Give your mom back her eyeliner, okay? And what is going on in your shirt? Having little boobs does not give you special non-bra privileges. This is school—there are children present. And you—I get it. Your favorite color is pink, but it doesn’t mean you have to cover yourself in it from head to toe. You look like something the Pink Panther barfed up.”
Jake put on a tough face and shouted, “Yeah, you big weenies,” then turned to stand directly in front of me, blocking my view of Emily. But I could still hear her perfectly.
“Fost. Emily’s right. Please don’t tell her I said that. But she is right about us being idiots. We shouldn’t have done what we did. But I think we didn’t know what to do. We’ve never seen you so upset before and it kinda wigged us out, you know? But seriously, no one is a bigger idiot than that kook who didn’t want to be your partner. I mean, what a dope! You’re like wicked talented. I heard you sing that one time and it was like, oh man, it was awesome.” Jake grinned and I couldn’t help but smile at him. He was contagious like that. “But if you are gonna be mad at one of us, be mad at Em, because I’m telling you, the whole thing was her crapper idea.”
Jake ducked out of the way just in time, narrowly missing what would have been a smack to the side of his head. Emily swung again and missed. “Oh, Emmers, that’s just sad.” Jake jeered, pointing a finger while dodging a kick to the shins. “You should see your face. You look just like Mom when Dad parks in the middle of the driveway. Creepy, dude.” She kept on him, fists swinging, but each time Jake deftly stepped out of the way, dancing circles around her. “Give it up. You know I’m faster than you.”
Emily stopped suddenly, her cheeks like two pink pearls. She seemed to weigh her options. I expected a clever quip, maybe even a defaming remark to slight Jake’s masculinity. She surprised me, though, allocating the same sportsmanship shown at the end of a lost water polo game.
“You’re right, Jake—” Emily paused, looked over our heads. “What? You guys back for more?” I forced myself not to turn around, but Jake did; and although he stayed turned for only one second, maybe two, it was long enough.
Emily leapt at him, landing a fist to his stomach. Jake coughed, pitched forward, and gripped his kneecaps. “You are faster than me, Jakey,” she granted, thumping him gently on the back, “but you are definitely not smarter.”
I saw Jake meant to retaliate and unzipped my backpack, removing the two clear bags. “I have cinnamon rolls!” I waved them, white flags in the air, hoping a peace offering would distract them.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Emily said, sauntering toward me. “Your mom makes the best rolls.” I smiled, not bothering to correct her, and handed her a bag.
Jake straightened up slowly, face flushed and blue eyes a little glossy from having the wind knocked out of him. He regained composure quickly, staggering over with his congenial smile intact. “Not bad,” he said to Emily, and took the other bag I held out. “Even if you had to cheat to catch me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Jake . . . you should know better than anyone that I don’t believe in playing fair. I believe in winning.” Fully satisfied with herself, Emily tore a piece off of a cinnamon roll, sticking it in her mouth. Jake, on the other hand shoved almost the entire roll into a gaping grin. He sighed contentedly, swallowing and repeating until he ha
d finished three. Emily stared at him, disgusted. “You know . . . seeing you in your true form like this, I can see how the creators of Tarzan must have been inspired.” Jake ignored her, continuing to devour the rolls until there was only one left. He plucked it out of the bag and brought it to his mouth.
“Did you want to save one for Maddie?” I asked hesitantly. I hadn’t thought to make her a bag, assuming Jake would share. I should have known better. Jake looked at me with something akin to pouting. His mouth opened and shut, ambivalent like the automatic doors of a busy shopping mall. He stared at the roll, deliberating. Watching him work this out, I chuckled softly, imagining the internal monologue that must be taking place.
Should I save it for Maddie? But I’m really hungry . . . I wouldn’t even have to tell her. Ugh, but Emily will, and then I’ll be busted. Maybe I can bribe Emily . . . no way. That would give her way too much control. But I’m really hungry.
A triumphant jubilation ensued as he reached a decision. Compromising, he broke it in half, sticking the uneaten portion back inside the bag.
Emily stared at her brother dully. “Lucky girl, that Maddie. And do you let her pay for dinner too?”
And though Jake wasn’t nearly as consistent as Emily in regards to sarcasm, he was after all still a Donahue. “Not all the time,” he replied mildly, “Sometimes she cooks it for me.” He laughed, dodging a jab in the ribs. He stepped backward and lost his footing on a thick root bulging from the earth.
Emily enjoyed watching him struggle for balance, cackling when—to no fault of his own—Jake slipped out of his flip-flop and fell. “Nice.”
He sprang up so quickly I couldn’t be sure he had ever touched the ground. “Ah.” He made a pained face, rubbing his tailbone. “Think I landed on a rock or something.”
“I’m pretty sure it was just that sad excuse you call a butt.”
“True,” Jake agreed, thoughtfully. “Not really my fault, is it though? Not with you hogging all the food when we were baking in Mom’s stomach. What was it the doctor said? Biggest bottom he’d ever seen on a newborn?”
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