by Mark Elliott
“So—like, today?” Jay said, “When I was in class with her, she knew? Today? “
Ray nodded, and a slow grin spread over his face. “Yeah, I called her after school, while you were at soccer. And she said some of the other girls know about us too. Because she told her friend, this girl named Caroline. And Melissa’s really sorry about it and everything, but I told her it’s no big deal.” Ray paused, and his grin got bigger. “And hey, good news—she said you were really cute in science today, pretending to be all cool and smooth. Like me.”
Jay slugged Ray on the shoulder. “That’s for not telling me sooner.” He punched Ray again on the same spot, harder. “And that’s for thinking it’s all so funny that everyone’s been whispering and laughing behind my back all day. You and your stupid girlfriend. Who’s about as cute as a warthog.”
The insults made Ray clench his fists, and he wanted to hit back, but Jay’s face looked so red and twisted with anger that it struck him as funny. So Ray started laughing.
And that’s when civil war broke out, brother against brother. Jay jumped up and tackled Ray, knocking him off his chair. They both hit the floor, and someone’s leg caught on the cord of the double-necked desk lamp. It went flying, and both light-bulbs popped as it crashed to the floor, plunging the bedroom into darkness.
By the time their dad had stomped up the stairs to stop the fight, Jay’s shirt was ripped from shoulder to waist, his elbow was bleeding where it had smacked against the radiator, and Ray had a fist-shaped lump on his cheekbone and a fingernail scrape on his chin.
The boys got some first aid and a second round of scolding from their mom, then they cleaned up the mess, vacuumed the broken glass, replaced the lightbulbs, and went back to their homework. In icy silence.
Their anger chilled to become resentment, and the deep freeze continued the rest of the night. Even at breakfast on Wednesday morning, their mom said, “Boys, don’t be like this. I don’t know what you’re fighting about, but you need to let it go and move on. I want you to shake hands with each other, right now.”
So the twins shook hands, but each tried to catch the other’s hand to give it a knuckle grind, and each of them squeezed extra hard, and they held the grip so long that their dad said, “All right, knock it off, both of you. Now!”
So as Ray sat in homeroom on Wednesday, trying to understand what Alex explained about the factoring problems, not having a twin brother at all would have been just fine with him.
After the pledge, the intercom speaker crackled to life, and a voice said, “Mrs. Lane?”
“Yes?” she answered, shushing the room with her hands and eyes.
“Please send Jay Grayson to the nurse’s office right away for a hearing test.”
“All right.”
“Thank you.” And the speaker went dead.
Mrs. Lane said, “Jay, you should take your things with you. And don’t worry, all the new students get their ears tested every fall. Do you know where the nurse’s office is?”
Ray was on his feet already, his book bag on his shoulder. “Next to the main office?”
Mrs. Lane nodded, “That’s right.”
And Ray was out the door and on his way, a happy bounce in his step.
Ray normally didn’t like going to the nurse’s office. But this? This was great. Because if he played it right, he might be able to miss the first half of math class. No factoring, and no having to pretend to be nice to that dumb Parkman girl. For his stupid brother. On this particular morning, a trip to the nurse was going to be the perfect way to start the day.
CHAPTER 20
GAME OVER
Ray stood in the open doorway a second, sniffing. He had learned that it was always good to sample the air quality before entering a nurse’s office. And after inhaling a few times, he decided the place smelled okay. No throw-up smells, no bathroom odors, only a faint whiff of rubbing alcohol and soap.
So Ray knocked on the door, and instantly the nurse said, “Come right in.”
She was sitting at her desk on his right, and she had a laptop computer open in front of her. She turned her head, smiled, and said, “Good morning. You’re Jay?” As he nodded, she said, “I’m Mrs. Cardiff.” She pointed at a chair directly behind hers and said, “Please, take a seat. I’ll just be a moment.”
So Ray slipped his book bag off his shoulder and sat down.
He looked to his left at a poster about proper nutrition. Nothing of interest there. He looked to his right at a poster about correct posture, and immediately sat up taller in his chair. Then, glancing straight ahead at the back of the nurse’s head, his eyes dropped down to where her left arm rested on her desk. And there on her desk, beside the laptop, Ray saw something. His eyes popped wide, his heart seemed to stop, and his mind went blank with a sharp jolt of electric fear. It was a bright blue folder. The double-thick student file Jay had described to him, the folder Jay had seen in Mrs. Lane’s room on his second day of school. Sitting right there, right now, four feet in front of him.
Ray panicked, wanted to leap up and run out of the nurse’s office, run out of the school, run all the way home. But he sat there, trying to think.
The blue folder. On the nurse’s desk—what does it mean?
Has she studied it? Discovered the truth?
But if she knows, why is she acting like everything’s fine?
Ray barely had his thoughts under control as the nurse spun her chair around to face him.
“All right, then,” she said. She held a pair of large earphones, and the cord was plugged into the computer. “First I want to adjust the levels on the testing program. We have a specialist who comes and checks over my results, so I have to make sure I do this right. The computer does most of the work. But I have to set it correctly. I love computers these days, don’t you? How they can do almost anything? Why, when I first became a school nurse, the hearing tester was almost as big as a washing machine.”
Mrs. Cardiff wasn’t usually this chatty, but she wanted time to get a good look at Jay Grayson. The boy seemed agitated, as if he was afraid of something.
She handed him the earphones and said, “Here, put these on—that’s right, just like earmuffs. Now, let me wiggle them a little.”
As she leaned forward and adjusted the headphones to fit tightly around his ears, Mrs. Cardiff could see that bruise on his cheekbone clearly. And from experience, she knew what she was seeing. Those were knuckle marks on the boy’s face. Only knuckles left marks like that. Not good.
The nurse pointed and said, “That bruise on your face, does it hurt?”
“What?” Ray said. He pulled the headphones off his right ear.
The nurse said, “Does that bruise on your face hurt? How’d that happen?”
“No, it’s fine. I . . . I banged it against my bed. On the board at the end. Because I slipped. On a rug.”
“Hmm, I see,” said the nurse, but she thought, That’s a lie. And she was right. She said, “Does anyone in your family have hearing problems? Your mom? Your dad?”
Ray shook his head.
The nurse made a quick decision. Because a boy who feels like he has to lie about a bruise on his face could be in real danger, and his missing brother might be in danger too. It was time to be direct, to get to the heart of this case.
She said, “How about your brother? Does he have any hearing problems?”
Ray tilted his head, not sure if he had heard the question right.
The nurse reached over and took the headphones off. “I said, does your brother have any hearing problems?”
“M-my brother?” Ray stammered.
“Yes, Jay,” the nurse said, looking straight into his eyes. “Your twin brother, Ray.”
Ray stared back at the nurse, and he said the first thing that popped into his mind. “I don’t have a brother named Ray.”
Which was true.
But looking into the nurse’s face, Ray knew that the game was over. It was time for the truth. The whole tr
uth.
He took a deep breath and said, “My brother’s name is Jay. Because I’m Ray, not Jay. I’m Ray.”
The nurse went along with him. She nodded, but she didn’t know what to believe. Still, she was getting answers, so she asked another question. “And where has your brother Jay been for the past week?”
“Here at school,” Ray said, “but not every day—like, not today. We’ve been taking turns. Today’s his day to stay home.”
“And your parents?” she asked.
Ray shook his head. “They don’t know about it. About us staying home and stuff. They’re both at work all day.”
The nurse stood up. “Stay right here . . . Ray. In that chair. I’ll be back in a minute.” The nurse laid the headphones on her desk and hurried out of the room.
Ray didn’t even turn his head to watch her leave. He knew where she was going. She had to be going to the office. To get the principal. That would have to be next. The principal.
But Ray wasn’t worried. Because this was the endgame, and for the past five nights, just before falling asleep, Ray had been thinking about how this whole mess was going to be settled. He had worked out all the possible endings, so he felt ready.
And now that the final steps were beginning, Ray felt a warm wave of relief wash through his mind. It would all be over quickly now, and soon life would be so much simpler. Maybe a little more ordinary. But ordinary was okay. Ordinary sounded good—even with the twin thing revved up into overdrive.
And there really wasn’t anything to worry about now. Because from this point on, right to the very end, Ray felt sure he had figured out all the possible twists and turns, every last one of them. No more surprises.
But that wasn’t quite true.
CHAPTER 21
THE END BEGINS
When the nurse came back to her office, so did the principal. And Ray wasn’t surprised. It only took him about four minutes to explain everything to Mrs. Lonsdale. It was very simple, really: Jay noticed there wasn’t a folder for Ray, and the two of them decided they really wanted to see what it would be like to go to school without an identical twin being there.
The principal said, “Well, I hope you realize that what you’ve been doing is very wrong. Even dangerous. With your parents thinking both of you are safe at school, and the school not knowing anything at all about the other twin? That’s not good. You and your brother have gotten yourselves off to a very bad start here at Taft Elementary School.”
Ray nodded. No surprises yet. Right from the start, he and Jay had had a clear idea about all the trouble heading their way. And they both knew there would also be some punishment involved. Guaranteed.
The principal went on. “Now, Jay—I mean, Ray—I’ve just spoken with your mother at her office, and she has given permission for Mrs. Cardiff and me to drive you home. We’ll meet your parents there in about fifteen minutes. And your brother, too. We all need to have a serious talk about this. Do you have anything else you want to say to us right now?”
Ray shook his head. “Only . . . that I’m sorry.” Which was true. Because the actual size of the problem he and his brother had caused was beginning to hit him. And untangling everything wasn’t going to be as simple as he’d thought it would be. Especially with Jay acting so pigheaded all of a sudden.
Still, as Ray went out to the faculty parking lot, walking between Mrs. Lonsdale and Mrs. Cardiff like a prisoner between two deputies, he couldn’t help thinking, Well, at least I won’t have to deal with math class today.
CHAPTER 22
MISSING
Ray saw the minivan in the driveway when the principal’s car turned onto his street, saw his mom and dad standing in the driveway. Waiting. For him. And as they got closer, he could see their faces.
Ray gulped. This part was not going to be fun.
Still, it was going to be good to get the worst parts over with all at once. Sort of like taking a bandage off a scraped knee, Ray told himself. One quick pull.
The principal parked her car behind the mini-van, got out, and walked over and introduced herself to Ray’s parents. “I’m sorry this isn’t a happier occasion for our first introductions,” she said, “but it’s always good to get a bad situation out in the open. This is Mrs. Cardiff, the school nurse.”
Mrs. Grayson said, “Well, my husband and I want to thank both of you for your help with this. Let’s go inside and sit down, shall we?”
During this little conversation, Ray just stood there, not quite in the circle of grown-ups. No one looked at him, no one mentioned him. He’d have felt better even if his mom or dad had frowned at him. But it was as if he wasn’t there.
He followed his mom and dad in through the kitchen door, and as the principal and nurse followed, Mrs. Grayson called out, her voice sharp and strong. “Jay? Come here to the kitchen, right this minute.”
Ray didn’t hear the TV on in the living room, so he walked in and put his hand on the set. It wasn’t warm. I bet he just went back to bed after I left for school, he thought.
So he called to the kitchen, “I think he’s asleep, Mom. I’ll go wake him up.”
But when Ray got to their room, both beds were still made, just like they’d left them before school.
Ray hurried back downstairs, and to answer the question he saw on his mom’s face, he said, “Jay must be out in our hiding place.”
With the grown-ups following, Ray led the way to the garage and called out, “Hey, Jay—everyone’s here. And everyone knows now. You can come out.”
Nothing.
Ray said, “Maybe he fell asleep in there.” He didn’t really believe that, but he moved the box hiding the entry anyway and crawled in. As he did, Mr. Grayson lifted off a couple of the top boxes, and Ray looked up to see all four grown-ups peering down into the cardboard cave. And for half a second, Ray thought he saw a smile on his dad’s face, just a tiny one. But he looked around at the frowning faces, shrugged, and said, “Not here.”
His mom said, “Well, where is he, Ray? This isn’t funny anymore. Where did he go?” Her voice was tight and shrill.
Again Ray had to shrug. “I don’t know, Mom. Honest. He was still pretty mad this morning. From our fight last night. But I know Jay wouldn’t do anything stupid. Or dangerous.”
And the moment he’d said that, Ray wished he hadn’t. Because the look of pure fear on his mom’s face was like nothing he had ever seen before. And everyone else stiffened, almost stopped breathing.
There was a moment of complete silence in the garage, as though time itself had stopped and wouldn’t dare take one tick forward.
And in that silence, a cell phone rang, a loud, bouncy Latin beat. Mrs. Lonsdale’s face went from pale to slightly red, and she said, “That’s my phone. Excuse me.” And she stepped out the garage door onto the driveway.
Ray started climbing over the boxes, and his mom stretched out her hand to steady him.
As he stepped down, he said, “I mean, maybe Jay took a bus to the zoo. Or to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. We’ve been talking about that. Or he might just be at the park or something.” But as he talked, Ray realized that he was just making it more and more obvious that Jay could be anywhere.
And as he stood there on the floor next to his mom, she pulled him close in a sudden, fierce hug that caught Ray completely off guard.
As Mrs. Grayson held her son so tightly that he could barely breathe, the principal put her head back in the door of the garage and said, “Jay’s all right—he’s been found.”
CHAPTER 23
GONE
Ray had been right about Jay, about how mad he was.
Jay had been so angry that he’d hardly been able to swallow his orange juice at breakfast. He had left the house when Ray did, and on the way out he hadn’t smiled once, or even said goodbye to his mom or dad. And as Ray headed off for school, Jay had snuck around to the garage, as usual.
But today Jay hated waiting in the cardboard hideout, and he sat in the dark on t
he rickety lawn chair in a fuming rage, furious at everyone.
Jay was angry at Ray for telling Melissa, and then not telling him that she knew. The two of them had had a good laugh about him pretending to be like Ray. They had let him make a complete fool of himself.
And he was ready to punch Melissa in the nose for blabbing the secret to all her friends. So they could make fun of him together.
And he was mad at his mom and dad for giving him and Ray names that were almost the same. Because that wasn’t a help. Ever.
Jay was angry at the whole stinking universe for setting things up so that he had to have a twin brother at all. It was so unfair, to always be compared with someone else—and it would probably be that way for the rest of his life.
But mostly, Jay was angry at himself. Because he was to blame for this mess, all of it. It had been his idea, and he was the one who had pushed Ray into taking turns going to school in the first place.
And now it had blown up in his face. Completely.
This so-called experiment that was supposed to make Ray and him feel free from each other, free from the endless comparisons? Total failure. They were supposed to have been free to just be themselves. Yeah, right, Jay sneered to himself as he sat stewing in the hideout. Like that could ever happen.
The experiment had failed miserably. Instead of feeling free, they were both locked into a prison of lies. Instead of getting to be themselves, they kept having to pretend to be more and more like each other.
And that could never work. Jay saw that now. It was stupid to have thought that they could even pretend to be the same person. They were two totally different people, always had been, always would be—no matter how it might look to others. Jay was fed up with everything—his brother, his parents, school—and girls? With Melissa laughing and jabbering to all her friends, he could forget about Julie Parkman. Or any other girl in this town.