Runaway Twin (17 page)

Starr called at four to say she was at Sarah's house and had been invited to stay for dinner.

“No,” her dad told her. “You need to come home. Sunny is leaving tonight and she wants to see you before she goes.”

I could tell Starr argued with him, but for once she did not get her way. “I'll pick you up in ten minutes,” Mr. Anderson said. He hung up, got in his car, and drove off.

When Starr arrived, she gave me a scathing look and said, “So, here I am. What do you want to talk about?”

“I need to see you alone,” I said. “Let's go up to your room.”

She led the way. She sat on her bed and glared at me.

I reached in my pocket and took out the copy of the poem, the one I'd printed at the library that included the author's name and the date the poem had been published. I handed it to her and watched as she read it.

Her face turned pale. “Where did you get this?” she whispered.

“As soon as I read ‘Lilacs in Summer,' I knew you hadn't written it,” I told her. “I'd seen it before. I wasn't sure where I'd read it, but I knew you weren't the author. I didn't want to use the computer here because I didn't know how long it would take me to find the poem and I didn't want to be interrupted, so I went to the library. I Googled the title and it popped up instantly.”

Her hands were shaking so much, the paper rattled. She laid it on the bed.

“Are you going to show this to my parents?” she asked.

“No.”

“Oh, I get it. This is blackmail. You keep quiet about the poem and, in return, I pretend it's okay with me for you to live here.”

“I ought to be insulted,” I said, “but instead I feel sorry for you.”

“You feel sorry for me? That's a joke! You're the kid nobody wants.”

“Not anymore. Rita wants me, and your parents want to consider adopting me.”

“You're lying!”

“Ask them.”

“They wouldn't adopt you unless I agreed to it, and I'll never do that.”

“It doesn't matter,” I said. “I wouldn't agree to it, either.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I don't want your parents to adopt me. I like them a lot, but I want to live with Rita and Snickers.”

“You're crazy. You'd choose a foster home and a fleabag mutt over the chance to live here?” She waved one hand around. “What about the clothes and the big allowance?”

“Not important. Rita and I are going to take tennis lessons, and there's a trail where I can walk Snickers. I'm happy there.”

Starr was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “You really aren't going to tell my parents about the poem?”

“No, but I think you should tell them.”

She shook her head. “I can't. You don't know what it's like to have parents who think you're perfect. All my life they've expected me to be better than I am, to accomplish more than I'm capable of. No matter what I do, they always want more.”

This is a problem?
I thought. Nobody ever expected me to succeed at anything. Then I corrected myself: until Rita. Rita believes in me.

“They seem very proud of you,” I said.

“They're proud of who they want me to be, not who I am.” Tears dribbled down Starr's cheeks. “You were right when you guessed that I was afraid of you,” she said. “I didn't want you to stay because I was afraid you'd be smarter than I am and do better in school and in sports. I couldn't stand the thought of competing with a twin and coming out second.”

“You're taking a terrible chance by sending that poem and the affidavit to the regional contest,” I said. “What if one of the judges recognizes the poem? You'll be publicly humiliated. Think what that would do to your parents. It would be a lot easier if you admitted what you did now instead of getting caught later.”

“I'll withdraw the poem,” she said. “I'll tell the judges I sent it by mistake. That way, Mom and Dad won't have to know. They'll just think I didn't win.”

I looked at my sister. Even now that her plagiarism had been found out, she wasn't willing to take responsibility for what she had done.
Twinkie, Twinkie, little Starr. How I wonder who you are.
I didn't know the girl who sat in front of me. I no longer wanted to know her.

“Thanks for not telling on me,” she said.

“Good-bye, Starr,” I said.

R
ita was waiting at the baggage claim, as we had agreed. I spotted her as I rode down the escalator.

She opened her arms and I rushed to hug her. Then she held me at arm's length and said, “What did you do to your hair?”

“As soon as I shampoo it twenty-two more times, it'll be back to my natural color.”

The drive home took nearly two hours, and we never stopped talking. Rita told me she had notified the police about the bag of money I'd found.

“Did they know who it belongs to?” I asked. “Do I have to give it back?” I hadn't thought about telling the police.

“Nobody had reported the loss and the amount didn't match any robbery, so it's yours to keep.”

“Good, because I spent most of it getting to Starr's house.”

“I'm in a peck of trouble with Hiss,” Rita said.

“You told them I was gone?”

“Well, of course I did. I had to try to find you.”

“Are they going to let me stay with you?”

“Yes. When they found out that you had voluntarily called and asked to come back, they agreed that we could try again. We're on probation for six months, though. If you leave again, they'll . . .”

“I'm not leaving again,” I said. “Where would I go?”

“Who knows? Maybe you are one of triplets and there's a brother somewhere that I don't know about and one day you'll take off, looking for him.”

“I don't blame you for being mad at me.”

“I'm not mad at you, but I'm disappointed that you didn't feel you could tell me the truth. I would have helped you find your sister. I would have taken you to meet her.”

“I know. I wish I'd done that, and I'm glad you're willing to give me another chance.”

“I figured if I let you come home, I'd get Snickers, too,” Rita said. “Ever since I arranged to work from home, I've wanted to have a dog.”

“You're going to love him,” I said.

“I'm sure I will.”

“I thought my search for Starr would have a perfect, fairy-tale ending and we'd live happily ever after.”

“You pursued your dream,” Rita said. “It didn't turn out the way you had hoped, but now you can go on to other dreams.”

“Is it too late for us to do the tennis lessons?”

“No. We can still do them.”

“I'm going to write about my trip to find Starr,” I told Rita, “and turn it in this fall for extra credit.”

“That's a fabulous idea,” Rita said.

“I thought about it on the plane,” I said. “It might be too long for an essay. I might have to write a whole book.”

Rita looked shocked.

“I already know the title and how it starts,” I said. “I'm going to begin by saying my life was transformed by a craving for Twinkies.”

“Twinkies?” Rita looked repulsed. “What do Twinkies have to do with searching for your sister?”

“You'll see when you read my book. I'm going to call it
Runaway Twin.
”

“Good title,” said Rita. “I can't wait to read it.”

When we got to Rita's house, she said, “I have a welcome-home present for you.” She handed me a bagel bracelet. “I used yellow yarn,” she said. “For Sunny.”

The bracelet was covered with buttons shaped like rainbows and little suns. I slipped the bracelet on my wrist. “Thanks, Rita,” I said. “Thanks for everything.”

“We'd better get to bed,” Rita said. “I told your pal, Charley, that we'll be there tomorrow evening.”

I walked into my room. My room. I looked around at the desk and the bed with its purple spread, and the Lava lamp. Then I noticed a new addition to my decor: a large dog bed with a cedar-filled pad sat next to my desk.

I'm home,
I thought.
At last, I'm really home.

 

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Trapped

Abduction!

Spy Cat

The Stranger Next Door

Don't Tell Anyone

I'm Not Who You Think I Am

Searching for Candlestick Park

Earthquake Terror

Danger at the Fair

The Richest Kids in Town

Night of Fear

Horror at the Haunted House

Terror at the Zoo

Sisters Long Ago

Cages

Nightmare Mountain