Identical (16 page)

Oh. Been expecting that call.

Hurry and change. You don’t

want to be late for school.

Not quite scraping the curb.

The window lowers, and I wait,

expecting a hot wave of anger.

Instead his eyes sweep over

my body, assessing. He catches

something he doesn’t like.

Much better, except for your

hair. Take them out.

Take what out? Oh, the braids.

I do as instructed. Wait again.

That will do. Now get in. Why

didn’t you wait for me?

“You were still on the phone.

I thought I could catch the bus.”

I settle into the plush warmed

leather, unworthy of its comfort.

You know I hate disobedience.

I hope it won’t happen again.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I was just

trying to save you the trouble….”

His head snaps in my direction,

and his hand flashes toward me.

It takes all my willpower not

to flinch, not to bloat his anger.

His fingers catch my cheeks,

pinch until my mouth opens.

I’ll decide what is or isn’t trouble.

You just follow orders. Understand?

Drool dripping from my open

mouth, all I can do is nod.

His hand falls away from my face,

and stress falls away from his.

That’s my girl. You’re the one

person in the world I can count on.

He pulls carefully away

from the curb, turn signal

doing its obligatory thing.

To the casual observer,

I know,

we are quite a picture.

Judge Gardella, dashing

in tailored navy blue,

and his teenage daughter,

pretty

in pink angora. But what’s

underneath that sweater

is the antithesis of normality,

however that word

is defined.

And hey, when it comes

to abnormal, I can only

be one-upped

by

the man driving the car. What

would the neighbors think if they

could look through our windows,

beyond the closed curtains, and see

what’s inside?

Exactly that when Shelby

taps my shoulder.
Look.

Outside, clearly framed

by the window glass,

my best and dearest friend

Madison sidles up to Ian.

A deep shade of anger

blossoms beneath my skin.

Screwing around with Mick—

and so me—is one thing.

Messing with Ian is something

else, something unforgivable.

I can’t believe I’m standing

up for Kaeleigh, but I so am.

I raise my hand. “Excuse me,

Mrs. Finch, but I feel sick.

May I go to the rest room?”

Clearly unwilling to invite

diarrhea or vomit, she waves

me out the door.

To play stand-in for Kaeleigh, but

she wouldn’t have the nerve to do

what needs to be done anyway.

Sorry, twin o’ mine, but it’s true.

I watch from a short distance

for a minute or two, trying to size

up the situation, head to toe. Or

maybe boob to chest is more apt.

Not a millimeter separates Ian’s

T-shirt from Madison’s blouse.

In his defense, I will say Ian looks

immensely uncomfortable.

As I start toward them, he sees

me, and his demeanor shifts

from complacency to sheer panic.

Oh darlin’, you just wait.

At the terrified look in his eyes,

Madison turns to face me. Smiles.

Oh, girl. That is so not the way

to deal with this. I’m ready to rock.

But since I’m supposed to be

Kaeleigh, I’ll notch it back

to something more like passive.

At least for the moment.

The tenor of the scene changes

yet again. Madison remains

possessive, of course. It’s Ian

whose body language alters.

I had expected contriteness.

Instead he seems unmovable,

despite the certain emotion

betrayed by his eyes: hurt.

Okay, what did that bitch tell

him? All thoughts of Kaeleigh

tossed aside, I move faster toward

the two of them. With

obvious intent. Madison’s smile

falls from her face and I know

she has read the message in

my eyes: Get the fuck

away from him! She does, too.

But not far. She’s a total player,

and all in all, a worthy opponent.

Oh, hey. Hope you don’t mind

my borrowing Ian’s ear. I was

just asking him to vote for me

for junior class president.

OMG! She’s got to be joking.

“Oh, really? Brave of you to

run…” I leave the obvious

message hanging. Think better

about letting her off so easy.

“I’m sure Ian is smart enough

to vote for the best candidate,

though.” Then I move between

them, turn to face Ian’s sad eyes.

“May I talk to you for a minute?”

His response is unexpected.

He levels me with his dark

gaze.
Not right now. I’m late

for an appointment with my

guidance counselor. Later.

And off he stalks, leaving

Madison and I standing here

together. We both stare

after him, nothing left to say

to each other. We both know

exactly what the other thinks.

Such a good move. Then again,

maybe it was. Hopefully I at least

managed some sort of damage

control. Then again, maybe not.

I wonder what she said to Ian.

Well, it still isn’t really my business.

And right now my mind is wrapped

around Mick, who’s supposed to pick

me up during third block. Spanish.

Uh-huh, I’m ditching. Oh, well.

I stand on the side of the gym,

where hopefully no teachers will

notice me, waiting to do one

more wrong thing. Okay, several

wrong things, all at once.

I can’t help but think about Ian,

and I can’t help but wonder

what I can do to shut Madison’s

big mouth once and for all.

It’s a quandary, needing a fix.

Maybe getting my head will

fix it. I sometimes believe I think

best when I’m the most loaded.

Probably just wishful thinking.

But hey, here comes my ride.

My escape is successful.

Once again

Mick greets me with an

uncomplicated
Hey.

Once again

he points the Avalanche

away from town, heads

into the countryside.

Once again

he leaves it to me to roll

and light a fatty. Has it only

been a few days since I last

indulged this not-so-bad habit?

Once again

we engage in easy sex,

hardly a word exchanged

between us. We are so not

about conversation, and only

body-to-body communication.

Once again

we clean up the obvious,

straighten our clothing, pop

a few breath mints, and start

back toward school. Only

this time, Mick’s erratic driving

draws unwanted attention.

With a most eloquent

Holy fucking shit.

It is then I notice the flashing

red and blue lights coming

up fast behind us. Holy

fucking shit is right.

Down go the windows,

nothing obvious about that,

but the damn truck smells like

a den of promiscuous skunks.

Mick doesn’t have a choice

except to pull over.