Twins (16 page)

Natasha stepped closer to Gaia, pleading with her eyes. “Gaia, we are family, you know. You and I… and Tatiana. We are all part of Katia's family. For
her.
For your mother. Be kind.”

Gaia stepped closer as well, making sure she had the full attention of Natasha and her totally transparent, fluttering, big brown bullshit eyes.
“No”
she said. “You don't talk to me about my mother. I don't know who you are, but you know what I do know? I
know
it's not who you say you are. And I want the two of you to stay out of my life, do you understand me? Because if you don't—”

“Gaia, come on.” Ed grabbed Gaia's shoulder and pulled her away from Natasha.

“What are you doing?” Gaia snapped.

“Come on,” Ed said, giggling uncomfortably to defuse the tension. “I mean, I don't even know what's going on here, but if this is just about showing her around school, I'm sure we can play nice here.
I'll
show you around,” Ed said, shrugging at Tatiana.

Natasha grinned graciously at Ed. Tatiana dropped
her eyes shyly to the floor before peeking up at him. Gaia watched Ed smile back at her and felt a volcanic rumbling beginning in her stomach.
Uh-uh. No way. Nooo way.

“That's okay, Ed,” she said, shoving Ed back a foot and pasting a deeply ironic smile over her simmering rage. “You know what? I'd be more than
happy
to show Tatiana the ropes.”
More like the gallows.

“There, see?” Ed joked to Tatiana. “She's really a sweetheart once you get to know her.”

“Oh, you bet I am,” Gaia said, firing off imaginary poison darts at Tatiana with her smile.

“Then you'll do it?” Natasha asked.

“Oh, yeah, I'll do it,” Gaia said, locking eyes with Tatiana. “Believe me, I will definitely do it.”

“HE WAS SO BEAUTIFUL. DID I
mention how beautiful he was?”

Heather hadn't shut her mouth about Mr. Beautiful for the past twenty minutes, the VS cafeteria burrito tasted like dog poo in a gym sock, and if Tatiana laughed at one more of Ed's jokes without even knowing what the hell he was saying… someone
was going to die. It might have to be Gaia herself, but
someone
was going to die.

“Yes.” Ed groaned. “I think you might have mentioned his beauty a few hundred times already.”

“Well, he was,” Heather said, leaning her face on her fist and twiddling two carrots on her plate. “He was like a Greek god.”

“Yeah, with a lap full of coffee,” Ed added.

“Exactly.” Heather sighed wistfully. “And he was so—”

“Nice,” Gaia interrupted, stabbing a fork through her so-called lunch. “He was so
nice.
We know.”

“Did I mention that already?” Heather asked mindlessly.

“I think we caught that,” Gaia muttered. Then she fell back into bitter silence, which had basically been her mode ever since they'd gotten to school. She divided her time between bitter silence and menacing stares at Tatiana, who was already shamelessly flirting with Ed. The only problem was, her silence kept forcing Ed to fill in the marathon pauses. He kept trying to keep the table talking, being the pathologically nice guy that he was. But every time he opened his mouth, he was talking to the same person. And it wasn't Gaia.

“So, Tatiana,” Ed said, pulling her eyes up from her lunch—three pieces of lettuce. “Why did you and your mom come to America?”

“I would like to know this also,” Tatiana said dourly, staring back down at her lettuce.

Another awkward pause.
Good,
Gaia thought.
I can't stand to listen to that wispy little voice again. I liked her so much more when she didn't talk.

“Would you care to elaborate?” Ed pressed amiably. Tatiana let out a small, high-pitched giggle.

Stop flirting, Tatiana. Stop flirting or I swear to God…

Tatiana considered the question for another moment. “I think we are here because my mother thinks that this is land of opportunity,” she said. “But I say, opportunity for what? To listen to Britney's Spear?”

Ed and Heather cracked up.

“What?” Tatiana asked defensively.

“It's
Britney Spears.”
Heather giggled, like she was telling Tatiana a secret. “Not Britney's Spear.”

“You see?” Tatiana said, flipping back her straight, flowing hair and throwing her elegant arms upward. “These are the things young people know in this country. They know of Britney's Spear and Christina Agamemnon, but do you know who is your secretary of agriculture?”

Ed and Heather went dead silent.

Ann M. Veneman. Does she think we're all idiots?
Gaia could have said something, but she was opting not to speak.

“You see?” Tatiana said, her tone oozing with self-congratulation. “I rest in my case.”

From dead silence to uproarious laughter again.
It's really not that funny,
Gaia was dying to tell them. Even Tatiana began to smile.

“What?” Tatiana said, giggling. “Should I not be resting in my case?” Soon she, too, was laughing. But she was never laughing with Heather. This was plain to see. Always with Ed. Only with Ed. Every single exchange at the table was addressed only to him.

The only person at the table not laughing was Gaia. She was too busy seething.

Stop… flirting… Tatiana.

Was she being paranoid? Was Ed just being “nice guy Ed,” trying to bring Tatiana out, and Gaia had it all wrong? He was, after all, the only person who had been nice to Gaia her first day at this godforsaken school….

No. No way. Gaia wasn't a paranoid person. She never had been. She never cared enough about what anyone else was thinking to be paranoid. She had legitimate reasons to be suspicious of Tatiana. Perhaps Ed could get her to
elaborate
on her little black book of notes she'd been taking on Gaia or the clever little ways she tended to hide from Gaia's view back in the girlie bedroom from hell?

“Come on, we have some good things to offer,” Ed argued jokingly. “What about culture? Museums, opera, ballet… I bet you're a dancer, right? You look like a ballet dancer.”

Gaia stared at Tatiana's ethereal, stick-thin body wrapped in formfitting Calvin Klein. Then she examined her own thick, muscular wrists. And then she looked back at Ed. “
I bet you're a dancer?” Where'd you
learn that one, Ed?
The Frat Boy's Guide to Eastern European Flirting?

“I did do some dancing,” Tatiana admitted coyly. “Among other things…”

Stop looking at him that way.

“Other things like what?” Ed asked.

Enough, Ed.
Gaia could feel herself nearing eruption again.

“Oh, this is not important,” Tatiana said, so obviously begging him to inquire further.

“No, come on,” Ed said. “What else do you do?”

That'll do, Ed.

“No, you don't want to hear about this.” Tatiana giggled.

“No, I
really
do,” Ed insisted. “I'm
really
interested.”

Tatiana tilted her head at Ed and smiled intimately. “You are so sweet—”

“Enough!”
Gaia howled, throwing her fork down almost hard enough to crack the plate in half. She shot out of her chair.

Their mouths all dropped wide open. Along with the rest of the cafeteria kids'. Ed looked utterly dumbfounded. Heather actually looked scared. And Tatiana… Oh, who the hell cared how Tatiana looked? Gaia didn't care. She knew what was going on, and she wasn't going to put up with another second of it.

“Gaia…?” Ed asked. “What the hell is—”

“Don't give me that
what's-wrong-with-you
act,
Ed!” She gave him a murderous glance. “Do you think I'm blind?” Gaia turned to Tatiana and leaned within striking distance. “And you—whatever you're trying to do, it won't work. I'm going to find out who you are. You and your mother. I'm going to find out the truth, and then we'll see how goddamn paranoid I am!”

Gaia slammed her chair against the table, rattling everyone's tray, then bolted through the rusty double doors of the cafeteria, nearly ripping them off the hinges. The entire third-floor hallway seemed to be rocking from side to side like an old-fashioned steamship. Maybe that was why everyone kept bumping into her, pummeling her like she was the wide receiver and they were all going for the tackle. She felt like she was covered in bruises by the time she made it to the stairs. Finally she popped through the school's front doors, where she could get some air.

But it didn't matter where she turned. Out here was no different than in there. They were still staring. Every one of them. What the hell was everybody staring at?

Gaia
isn't Gaia-that's for sure. I can't even begin to understand it-her bizarro transformation. As far as I can tell, there could really only be one possible explanation.

Drugs. Gaia Moore is on drugs. Except… she's not. Gaia Moore doesn't do drugs. I'm quite sure of it. So what other explanation can there be?

And you want to know what's really scary? I shouldn't say this. I shouldn't even think it. But… I'm not altogether sure I don't like the transformation. I mean, sure, no one wants to be bitched out by a totally paranoid psychopath in the middle of the school cafeteria. But on the other side of that very ugly coin… Gaia was
jealous.
Demented, yes. Insane, no question. But still dementedly and insanely jealous.

Now, I'm sorry. I know this is probably not “psychologically correct” or whatever the term
might be, but am I the only one who thinks that jealousy is an indication of love? Okay, at least major
like?
Well, okay, infatuation, obsession, puppy-loving stalker crush, that kind of thing? I mean, her jealousy was totally paranoid and based in no reality whatsoever. I was just working my ass off to make conversation. But still, there's a legitimate compliment in there somewhere, I think.

The thing is… New Gaia will be incredibly affectionate and then ice-cold. She'll be near tears and seemingly near death, and then she'll sleep like a baby. She'll be weirdly terrified. I've never seen her scared in my life. And then she'll be completely playful, and then romantic, and then paranoid, and then enraged. And she'll be all these things in one twelve-hour period. New Gaia is really nothing like Gaia at all. New Gaia is like this… this…
totally normal girl.

She's human.

I don't know, I just think, whatever has happened to her… If this is the new Gaia, and if I can deal with her insane psychotic emotional explosions of rage… then I think I might love her even more now than I did before.

Have
you ever read
The Catcher in the Rye!
What am I saying—of course you've read
The Catcher in the Rye.
Who hasn't read
The Catcher in the Rye?
Okay, here's my point: Could Holden Caulfield have been any more
right?
I don't care if he was coming to you from the mental ward; the guy was still dead-on.

Phonies. What a bunch of phonies people are. I don't know why I've never seen it as much as I do now. Since that injection. Something about that serum has just opened my eyes.

I sat there watching Tatiana work her whole little faux Princess Kournikova routine, and it just made me sick. All her coy giggles and those cleverly placed little malapropisms. She knew what she was doing every step of the way. Plotting and scheming. Preying on Ed's inherent kindness. Trying to divert his attention from me. Trying to rope him in, pitiful step by pitiful step.

I thought Heather was the master manipulator, but this girl's shtick makes Heather look like Snow White.

And do you know who she learned it from? Her mother, of course. Who else? That's where all these girls get their phony training. It's passed from generation to generation. Maybe that's why I'm so honest. I stopped training when I was twelve. Maybe if I'd had a mother for the last five years, I'd be a ruthless manipulator just like Tatiana and her mom.

No, I don't think so. Not with my mom.

And do you know what I noticed after I walked out of school? It's everywhere you turn. Everywhere. The second anyone opens their mouth, they're trying to get something from you, trying to pull one over on you.

School was out of the question, so I spent the rest of the day at Grand Central Station, conducting an anthropological
study. And let me tell you, the problem was running rampant. Every human transaction was just a manipulation. A smile meant someone needed something. A laugh meant someone wanted something in return. Crying meant someone craved attention. The whole place was just a swarm of schemers.

One thing I know for sure—I don't want to be a part of any of it. That's why I have to get out of that apartment now. I'm packing what's left of my stuff, and I'm getting out of there tonight. Before those two schemers hold some kind of demonic séance over my bed and try to convert me while I'm sleeping. And believe me, they'd do it, too.

I'm on to you, ladies.

rewind

He found himself wishing that he had a spray bottle filled with water and some rubber gloves. That always seemed to be what the experts used when the cat went crazy.

“WOULD YOU LIKE ANOTHER COOKIE, ED?”

Ed wasn't sure what Gaia's problem could possibly be with her new foster mom. Or Tatiana, for that matter. They seemed like two of the friendliest, most generous people he'd met in a long time. And the digs weren't too shabby, either. The living room was about twice the size of Ed's, with freshly polished wood floors, brand-new white couches, long, flowing white curtains, and wide-open windows that looked down on posh East Seventy-second Street. What was Gaia doing, cramming herself into Ed's hospital bed when she could be stretching out on the Upper East Side?