by M. A. Hinkle
“Aren’t you friends with twins? You should know all the stuff about being each other’s BFF is bullshit. We’re brothers, so we argue the way brothers do. It’s life.”
Felix shook his head—not denying, but telling me I’d missed his point. “They’re triplets, actually, and don’t call them twins or they’ll be rude. Their third brother doesn’t go to school here, and he’s kind of…not nice. So yeah, I know siblings don’t always get along, but I still don’t enjoy watching it.”
I kept staring at him. I was lost, beyond even the point where I could insult him. Thankfully, the bell rang before I could say something that sent him skittering off in fear.
He skittered off in fear anyway, but at least I hadn’t done it on purpose.
Still. I had to take a minute. Apparently, in addition to quoting Shakespeare for fun, random kids would lecture you about brotherly duties. Despite not having a brother.
I wasn’t even mad. I was just…floored.
I FOUND MORGAN waiting by my locker. He had his eyes down, so I didn’t say anything to him. I got my stuff, and we walked out together without talking.
Once we went up to our room, I turned to him. “Okay, so what the heck happened back there? What did I do? I thought…I thought I was being okay.”
I didn’t care for being vulnerable, even around Morgan. He’d never take advantage of it, but if I got into the habit, someone else would.
Morgan took in a breath: in through the nose, out through the mouth. Then he said, slowly and carefully, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Excuse me? Then why did you haul ass out of there?” It was perhaps more heated than the question required. I was trying not to be dismayed about him ignoring me, but. You know. It sucked.
“It was my fault, not yours.” Morgan started taking his hair down. He wore it in a neat braid most of the time. “I panicked, and I had to get out. The truth is—”
He took in another breath and let it out. I was used to it, but I still had to fight the urge to get up and pace while I waited for judgment. “The truth is, I fit in there. My calculus teacher is funny. I had a nice time sitting with those kids at lunch. And then Felix came up, and I was sure you were going to yell at him. When you didn’t, it freaked me out, so I had to leave before I galled you into it.”
Now that threw me. “Huh?”
Morgan twisted his fingers together, though he held my eyes. “You act the way you do because of me, Gar.” I started to object, but he frowned—only a little, but more than usual. “Let me finish.”
I nodded, although I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hear it.
“People see the two of us, and they see the good twin and the bad twin. But they don’t have to. You could shape up and be responsible, but…you do it to make me seem better by comparison. If I didn’t have you around, people would realize small talk makes me want to vomit even thinking about it.” He swallowed hard. I wasn’t sure if it was from the stress of the subject matter or because he was thinking about puking. Probably a little of both.
I really wanted to talk, but it would be a mistake, so I made a fist and dug my nails into the meat of my palm.
Morgan swallowed again and managed to continue. “If you do stupid things, I look better, and you feel good about yourself. But I hate how you think driving yourself over a cliff helps me.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.” But the moment the words were out of my mouth, I knew they were false. It made more sense than my own stupid reasoning.
“You see? And I don’t want it to happen anymore. This place is a chance for me to start over. I think I’ll finally be able to connect with people. We all have common interests, and they don’t stare at me when I don’t feel up to talking. I’m not any weirder than anyone else there, you see?”
I nodded because it was safer than talking.
He leaned toward me. “But there’s more. I think…I think maybe this school is a way for you to start over too—really start over. No more giving people static because you can, and no more pretending I’m the important one because I don’t blow things up to see what happens. I think…if you give yourself a chance, you can figure out who you are, not who you aren’t.”
I wrinkled my nose. Being a dick was easier than admitting—well, I wasn’t keen on the idea. I wasn’t sure what my edges were shaped like when I wasn’t clicked in beside him.
“I’ll try,” I said at last, pushing my hands up into my hair so I wouldn’t have to meet his eyes.
“That’s all I can ask for,” said Morgan.
THE SECOND DAY was different. There were still spontaneous musical numbers, but no one tried to get me to join in. And everywhere I went, I heard people whispering, repeating the ridiculous answers I’d given the other day. So, either people here were as credulous as day-old ducklings—plausible, considering Felix—or my camouflage was working. The reason didn’t matter. I sat outside for lunch without a single person trying to rope me into a performance of “Build Me Up, Buttercup,” so I called it a win.
I expected Morgan to have something to say about this during study hall, but he seemed too tired to talk, even to me. Second days were always rougher for him; he was already worn out from the first.
I took out Julius Caesar, the better to glare at it. When I still had two parents, we’d seen a production, so I knew the gist, but literary analysis was not my strong point. I didn’t have patience for stuff that didn’t say what it meant, even a 500-year-old pillar of culture or whatever.
I was working up a really good glare when someone approached. “Uh—can I sit here again? All the other tables are full.” It was Felix. No mistaking his squeaky voice.
Morgan looked up because he couldn’t help being polite, but he didn’t manage to say anything.
I kept glaring at Brutus because if I glared at the kid, he might turn and run, and I was trying to quit it. “It’s a free country, as much as it can be when you’re in high school and expected to be an adult despite how your brain is still developing.” Felix didn’t move. “If you don’t sit down, you’re going to draw attention to us, and if you do, Morgan may die of an aneurysm.” I was joking. Mostly.
But Felix sat, glancing around as if to make sure we weren’t being watched. People were going to think we were blackmailing him.
I pointedly picked up Julius Caesar and held it in front of my face. Felix put his bag on the table and took out his physics book, though he didn’t open it. I turned a page dramatically, hoping he’d get the hint.
He didn’t, of course. “H—have you picked a solo yet?” Felix asked.
Surprisingly, Morgan pushed one of the pieces of music toward Felix.
“Oh!” He turned the music around, and his face lit up. “You picked the Debussy piece. This’ll be great.”
Morgan twisted his fingers together without speaking.
“Morgan, this is the part where a person asks if he’s participating in the solo ensemble too.” I set down Julius Caesar because apparently we were having a conversation, and I wasn’t getting anything out of Shakespeare, even with footnotes. “But he won’t, so I’ll ask.”
Felix still watched Morgan hopefully, but he’d figure it out soon enough. “Me? No. I play flute in orchestra, so I’ll be in the group wind piece, but it’s not my thing. I guess I could sing, only I can’t do solos. I get embarrassed. Anyway, it’d take time away from my band.”
“You’re in a band.” Could he have been any more of a cliché? He wasn’t wearing the typical emo trash uniform, except for skinny jeans, but he had pen-and-ink tattoos drawn all over his hands, and he probably knew how to put on eyeliner and everything.
Well, I also knew how to do eyeliner. But I’d done drag performances a few times. I didn’t know what his excuse was.
Felix turned to me now, compelled by the rules of politeness as much as Morgan. “Uh—yeah. The LGBT Whatevers. You saw us the other day, remember?”
I had, but I hadn’t thought anything of it. Before lunch, I had
encountered an entire barbershop quartet, complete with fake mustaches, striped waistcoats, and boating hats.
Felix looked back at Morgan. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the crush or because Morgan was less intimidating. Probably both. “Without Sarah, though. She’s got the voice of an angel, but she won’t sing.”
He talked really, really quickly. A chipmunk record put on an even faster setting. When he glanced at me, I narrowed my eyes. “Are you going to be in the ensemble at all…?” he asked.
“I don’t have any special talents. He’s the genius in the family.”
“Oh.”
Sensing an opening to end the conversation, I picked Julius Caesar back up. Felix got the idea and labeled his page, but then stared as though it might tap dance away and take his woes with it.
For his part, Morgan took out his calculus homework. He numbered the paper, perfect and neat, and wrote out the problems. Unlike me, he never had to erase the numbers and rewrite them because he hadn’t left enough space. Morgan had tiny handwriting. His dream job could be writing the warning text at the bottom of antidepressant commercials.
Felix’s eyes flicked up to Morgan’s work. “Wow, you’re really good at math.”
Morgan shrugged. It was easier for him to communicate while nominally doing something else.
“Um.” But Felix gazed at his paper, even though he hadn’t written anything yet.
I glared at my book. “Am I seriously the only person at this table who knows how to talk? Because it’ll get old fast.”
Felix swallowed. “Uh—well, the thing is…”
I turned a page. Maybe starting a new scene would help me concentrate.
…Except I lost my mind when people didn’t finish their sentences. It came from living with Morgan. I had to string him up on the rack to find out what he wanted for supper.
So I snapped my book shut. “Look. Life is short and what-the-fuck-ever. I have no idea what’s going on underneath those silken curls of yours, but there had better be a brain in your head if you’re going to sit with us. So spit it out. Morgan is more scared of you than you are of him. If you approach quietly, you might be able to get a selfie. If you startle him, you’ll set him off, and he’ll charge the table. It won’t be pretty. There’ll be property damage involved, and I’ll have to get out the tranq darts. Even worse, I’ll have to reset the incident counter. We were on such a nice streak.”
Felix fidgeted. “Uh…are you any good at physics? Because I was out of school for a couple of weeks, and my teacher tried to catch me up, but I still don’t understand any of this stuff.”
Morgan stopped writing integrals, though he still couldn’t make eye contact. Never mind Felix was about as intimidating as a deflated balloon animal. Morgan’s pen remained poised over paper, as though he were thinking over the problem, but really, he was trying and failing to answer.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
“Gareth,” Morgan said, eyes still fixed on the table.
“He speaks! This is a momentous occasion. Mark it down on your stone calendars and prepare the ritual sacrifice, for verily, the apocalypse is at hand.”
Morgan closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. “If you aren’t going to be helpful, then you can leave.”
I prepared to make another crack about his inability to talk to the least imposing person on the face of the planet. Then I stared at him. “Did you seriously—”
Morgan lifted his eyes.
Yep. He meant it.
I considered arguing. But, A) it wouldn’t get me anywhere, and B)…I was kind of impressed. Not like I’d show it, though. “Fine, consider me left. But note you did not listen to my grave prophesy. When Rome burns, it’ll be your fault.”
Felix was staring at me. Probably the Roman history joke. I prided myself on deep cuts.
Unlike Morgan, I’d get in trouble if I tried to leave the library without permission, so I retreated into the stacks and made a nest near the lonely books no one ever checks out.
I’D FINALLY GOTTEN past act one, scene two when the final bell rang. I decided to wait for the rest of the kids to leave before getting up because I didn’t want to encounter any other weird groups of kids doing weird things. I was hitting my limit, and it was only day two. It didn’t bode well for my future at this school.
I was getting to my feet when Morgan came to find me. He didn’t offer to help me up.
“Is this going to be a thing?” I stretched my arms over my head, affecting disinterest. “You lecturing me about all the ills I’ve committed during the day. ’Cause it’s gonna be a pain. You’re better off choosing the worst offenders and making me a greatest hits list at the end of the week. I do well with bullet points and colored flashcards.”
“You weren’t bad this time, and we both know it.” Morgan had a library voice to make any librarian weep. “I wanted to make sure you hadn’t left school grounds while I wasn’t paying attention.”
I gestured around myself. “Despite what you might think, I’m doing my best to avoid getting expelled this time. I decided to get all cozy with the dust bunnies. Make myself a little kingdom. I am ruler of all I see. And possibly allergic to something, but every new territory comes with its challenges.”
“The apocalypse will actually happen when you talk seriously for once in your life.” Morgan hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “I’m staying after school today to try out my solo piece. Did you want to listen?”
I did feel flattered when he let me listen to his pieces before he was satisfied with them. I could tell the difference once he’d gotten it right because it made people cry. Despite rumors of the decline of American music appreciation, everyone still got teary-eyed over a good sonata. Including me. But if word got out, I’d be forced to start killing people, Liam Neeson–style.
“Yeah, cool. Better than walking home.” I pressed one hand over my chest. “I appreciate your constant attempts to touch my cold and dead heart with the beauty of your music. Someday it will wake real emotions inside me, and the spell will be broken forever. Then all the forest animals will do a little dance they’ve choreographed for just the occasion. It’ll be beautiful.”
Morgan turned away, though not without a parting shot. “Sometimes I wonder why we don’t have brown eyes because you are so full of it.”
I gasped. “Witty repartee? From you, dearest brother? What on earth happened while you were alone with that young man?”
“He’s nice. So are his friends. You should give him a chance.”
“Since when have I ever been interested in nice?”
Morgan just shook his head.
The school had an entire wing dedicated to soundproofed practice rooms, not to mention the orchestra pit and the stage. Even though no one could hear you from the outside, and the little window at the top was only there so someone could peek in and make sure you weren’t dead, he still picked the one farthest away from any occupied rooms.
“Are you coming in?” he asked, hesitating by the door.
“I want to look around. I wasn’t paying attention when they gave us the tour.” Really, I wanted to walk off the weird, but if I told Morgan, he’d give me his disapproving glare.
“Of course you weren’t. Knock if you want to come in, so I know who it is.” He said this as though he wouldn’t faint dead away if it was someone else.
I didn’t call him on it. I was curious. I hadn’t realized this part of the school was so big. Artists of all stripes were welcome here—the opposite end had a kiln and a darkroom and other eldritch items I knew nothing about—but music was their big thing.
The orchestra practice room was at the far end of the hall, connected to the performance stage by a hidden door. I peeked inside, but it was the same as our old school, only with more awards on the walls. I was curious about the stage, so I ducked inside. When I opened the door to backstage, I froze, hearing voices from the stage itself.
Then they started singing. It
was the trio from the first day, performing a song I didn’t know. Sure, this school was small, but how did I keep bumping into him?
Instead of fleeing back to Morgan’s practice room, I wandered up and down the hallway from the band room to the concert lobby. The walls were lined with portraits of alumni who had gone on to be great artists and musicians and whatever. I studied them, trying to figure out why I was still hanging around. I wasn’t sick of listening to Morgan play—I couldn’t be.
No…I felt guilty. I wasn’t used to Morgan calling me out. If he felt the need, I had crossed a line. Which meant being nice, even to weird kids with squeaky voices.
I leaned against the wall across from a picture of a saxophonist, equidistant between the side stage entrance and the band room doors. Therefore, I could pretend I was interested in the school’s history if anyone approached me. Although no one would, given my neutral expression resembled Anakin walking into the Jedi Temple at the end of Revenge of the Sith.
Yeesh. If I was thinking of nerd comparisons, I was downright nervous.
The trio came out not long after. They made a striking set from a distance: the twins (triplets?) were both almost six feet, so Felix was hobbit-sized between them. Zach was wearing a nametag with his actual name crossed out and Black Lightning written below it. Alex’s said John Stewart. (The real Green Lantern, not Hal Jordan. We hate Hal Jordan.)
“I wish Sarah wasn’t being all mysterious about her new lover. We really need her here,” said Alex.
“She doesn’t even sing,” said Zach. “Anyway, she’s obviously dating someone in the closet, or they’d be starting a nonprofit together.”
Felix folded his arms. “I think we should stop worrying about it and let her do what she wants. She’ll come back to us when she’s ready.”
“We’re a band, not a dating service. Exactly what can we accomplish without a drummer?” said Alex.
I almost let them walk by. They were too involved in their argument to notice me.