What Holds Us Together

by Sandi Ward

  Lisa is older than me, but everyone knows her as my “twin.” My parents held her back to repeat third grade when it was clear she was a little overwhelmed by school—in more ways than one. Since we’re only eighteen months apart, it meant that Lisa ended up in my grade. Some teachers started referring to us as twins to explain why two sisters were in the same grade, and save Lisa some embarrassment. But it’s a small school, and everyone knows the truth.

  I wince. Lisa smells like smoke. It permeates all of her clothes. She’s wearing bright orange lipstick, a lacy top with a short skirt, and fishnet tights. It hurts my heart a little bit, because on the one hand, I think she looks ridiculous. It’s as if she’s on her way to audition for a cheesy music video. Who is she kidding?

  On the other hand, I’m jealous. Because maybe she really does look cool.

  I tell Lisa about our bus protest idea.

  “That sounds dumb and completely dorky. But what else is new.” She purses her lips. “Did Sam say he’d help you?”

  Dana is walking on the other side of me. “Do you want to help out and join us tomorrow?”

  “Maybe. I was just wondering if Sam is part of your little plan.”

  Dana frowns. “So you only care what Sam thinks? You only care if a boy is going to be there?”

  Lisa is, in fact, boy crazy. I know she is. She cut out photos of every boy on the football team from last year’s yearbook and taped them to the headboard of her bed. Including Sam’s photo.

  “Sam’s cute,” she gushes, clutching the strap of her purple backpack. “He has dark eyes.”

  “His eyes are brown,” I correct her. “Just brown.”

  “His eyes are dark and warm,” she repeats, as if she hasn’t heard a word I said. Her hands fly to her hair to adjust her bandana. “You know what I mean.”

  “Not really,” I say, feeling a little uncomfortable with the way she’s talking.

  Dana and I exchange a look, as we often do when Lisa is acting ridiculous. “Sam’s a baby,” Dana says. “He’s always pouting about something.”

  Lisa shakes her head. “You have him all wrong.” Letting go of me, she reaches in her pocket for her strawberry lip gloss and administers it right over her orange lipstick in one quick swipe. “He doesn’t talk too much to you girls because you’re annoying and immature. And he’s not pouting. He just has a perfect kissy mouth.”

  Dana scoffs and barks out a short laugh. “Oh, my God. You can have him. He’s not my type.”

  I don’t say anything. I don’t crush on Sam as hard as some girls do, but I wouldn’t exactly say he’s not my type either. As I mentioned, we’ve been on friendly terms lately. He even came over to the house a few weeks ago to see if I could give him the math homework problems he forgot to bring home. I’m not sure why, but it was a little embarrassing to have a boy in the house, even if it was just for ten minutes. My dad came out of the den and talked to him about football—ugh. Weird. Humiliating. Thanks, Dad. Meanwhile, Lisa heard Sam’s voice and ran from her bedroom to go say hi to him. Which I thought was a little inappropriate.

  Okay, so maybe I do have a little crush on Sam. He’s so nice. What’s not to like? I don’t need Lisa telling me how kissy his mouth is, and running downstairs to say hello to him when he comes to visit me. I don’t want to hear her opinion on him at all. She acts like she’s some big expert on boys.

  “You care about bus safety, don’t you?” Sometimes I wish Lisa would get a little more passionate about the things that I’m excited about. Nothing much fires her up. “You’ll join the sit-in, right? And not just because of Sam.”

  “I guess so. Whatever.”

  I can tell she doesn’t care one way or the other. Which pisses me off.

  We stop in front of my locker. We have to split up, because Dana and I have calculus, and Lisa’s in algebra. Our teacher lately has been introducing concepts from aeronautical engineering, and it makes everything a little more interesting. I sometimes daydream about being in a spaceship, floating around in space, with only my math skills to get me back to Earth—far away from all of the other humans, in my own peaceful bubble.

  “See you later,” I say as Lisa walks away. I feel let down. What kind of person doesn’t support her own sister? But I can’t think about it for too long as I get out my notebook and calculator and head to class.

  * * *

  The next morning, the sit-in starts off with an awkward moment, where Mr. O’Shea pulls up to the school, cranks open the door, and then barks at us to get going. Nobody moves.

  Dana and I spread the word on the ride home yesterday, asking all the kids to stay seated when the bus arrived at school. We also made sure to sit in the front row, fearing that the underclassmen might get intimidated and scurry off the bus, leaving the seniors sitting in the back by ourselves.

  I buck up my courage and tell Mr. O’Shea that we need to talk to the principal. At first, he balks. But when he sees we’re serious, he shuffles off. A teacher comes on and scolds us. When I explain that this is a protest about bus safety, she rolls her eyes. Finally, the vice principal, Mr. Galanes, comes on and threatens us all with detention, which makes my heart start to pound. I’m sure kids are going to bolt. But when I look across the aisle at Sam, though, he’s not fazed. He just keeps his headphones on and stares absentmindedly out the window, Walkman in his hand.

  “We’re staying,” I announce calmly, so everyone can hear me. “We’d like to hear what you’re going to do to ensure our safety.”

  Mr. Galanes, who also happens to be an assistant football coach, grunts at Sam. “Hey. What is it you guys want, exactly?”

  Sam slides his headphones off and gestures toward me with a thumb. “Ask her. She’s in charge.”

  “Okay, Ms. Karlsson.” He narrows his eyes at me. “Name your demands. I don’t have all day.”

  “We want a new bus driver who agrees to go the speed limit, especially on steep hills and dirt roads.”

  Sam looks up. “How about better music? The music Mr. O’Shea plays is crap.”

  I gasp. “Nooooo. Sam, I love those pop songs. That music is the only thing that keeps me going in the morning.”

  “A better driver, that’s all we want,” Dana interrupts. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Mr. Galanes puts his hands on his hips. His tie is crooked and his belt buckle off-center. “All I can do is put in a request at the bus company and see if I can get your driver reassigned to a different route. He’ll end up driving too fast with some other kids.”

  I frown. “But that’s not right. That’s not good enough. Can’t you please just call the bus company and explain the situation? My mom has called them twice to complain, but nothing has changed.”

  He rolls his tongue in his cheek. “You’re ruining my Tuesday, Karlsson.”

  I shrug. That’s exactly the point.

  “I’ll be back.” He pulls the lever to open the door and then glances over at Sam. “Parsons, you realize that student activism died out in the seventies, right? It’s 1986. You’re not turning into some kind of a hippie freak, are you?”

  The ghost of a smile flickers over Sam’s face. “Uh, no, sir.”

  Mr. Galanes nods, satisfied, and steps off the bus.

  Lisa, who has been sitting behind us, jumps up and joins Dana and I in the front seat. “I’ve gotta go.”

  “Nooo!” Dana reaches across my lap to grab Lisa’s arm. “No, Lisa. Please. If you leave, other kids will start to bail. Why do you have to go?”

  “Because.” She drums her fingers on her knee, impatient. “I’ve already had lunch detention six times this year for being late to class or cutting out early. You want me to get in trouble for this? This is stupid.”

  I feel anger bubbling up in my chest. She’s leaving? “It’s not stupid. IT’S IMPORTANT.”

  I didn’t realize she’d had lunch detention six times already. Lisa never said anything to me. I had no idea. Do my parents know about this?

  That doesn
’t even make sense. We take the same bus to school, so how could Lisa possibly ever be late to class?

  Where does she go?

  “It’s okay,” Sam says. “She can leave.”

  I glance over at him. I didn’t realize Sam was listening to us. I watch him stand up. Oh, God—he’s not going to bail, too, is he?

  Sam faces the bus full of kids and clears his throat. “Guys, if you absolutely have to go to class, then go. You’ll only be fifteen minutes late. We’re staying, though. So if you want to stay with us, we’d appreciate it.” He gestures and nods at me. I nod back.

  Lisa looks pained after hearing Sam’s words. I think she hates to let him down even more than she cares about what I think. Sam is one of the popular kids, and Lisa wastes a lot of energy trying to impress people. I watch her weigh over in her mind what to do.

  “Thanks,” she finally says to Sam before grabbing her backpack and standing up. “You know, Sam, you don’t have to stay and do this.”

  He shrugs.

  Lisa hesitates, taking one last look back at me, and then hurries off.

  Slowly, one by one, half the kids get up and exit the bus. A bunch of them stop and tell Sam it was a good idea, even though they have to go. As if it was all Sam’s idea! But I don’t mind him getting the credit. No one would be staying at all if he weren’t here. Sam smiles and talks to each one. I’m impressed. Seriously, he can be friendly when he wants to be.

  I look around. There are only about a dozen students left. Ugh.

  But I’m happy to say Peter is still here, sitting right behind Sam. When he sees me looking at him, he closes his science textbook.

  “Peter, do you need to go to class? I feel bad if you’re missing something.” I say this despite the fact that I want him to stay, of course.

  He raises an eyebrow. “I’m not going anywhere. Don’t worry.”

  “Okay, good.”

  I feel like I should say something else, but I’m not sure what. He and I stare at each other a moment too long. It’s almost like a game of chicken, to see who is going to break eye contact first. His mouth slowly begins to break into a smile. I can’t take it anymore and turn back quick.

  I sigh and then bounce over to sit with Sam. “Well, this protest is going nowhere fast. But thanks for hanging in there with us.” I fold my arms in a huff. “I can’t believe Lisa left! She’s so lame. To make it sound exciting, I told her we could chant slogans and spray-paint peace signs on the school. But clearly this is too boring for her.”

  He smirks. “If you gave Lisa a can of spray paint, I doubt a peace sign would be her first choice.”

  I laugh. “You’re right.”

  “But, look. You’re trying. I give you credit for that.” Sam looks tired, his face pale.

  “What’s the matter? You look like you didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  He rubs a thumb over his mouth. “My dad’s in the hospital. He had surgery. He has cancer.”

  Wow. That’s alarming. “Oh, my gosh, Sam. Really? Your dad seems too young for that.” I don’t actually know anyone with cancer. I guess I’m lucky, since everyone in my family is healthy.

  “Anyone can get cancer.”

  “So why are you here, then? Shouldn’t you be at home?”

  He blinks, and for a moment he’s somewhere else, far away. “Nah, there’s nothing I can do. My mom’s at the hospital with him, and she told me to go to school. The doctor said he’ll be okay.”

  I can only hope that’s true, for Sam’s sake. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  The bus is getting humid, as it sits baking in the autumn sun. I start to feel like I’m overdressed and wonder if I should pull off my mittens. But I’m also heating up a bit from the way Sam is looking at me, his face close to mine as we’re side by side on the bus seat. I suddenly decide that I was right to assume that Sam isn’t being snobby when he’s staring out the window. Rather, he’s been preoccupied. He seems sad, actually. And when he gazes at me, I have to admit Lisa was right about something.

  His eyes are dark and warm. Yup. Check that box.

  I lean up against him, putting my head down on his shoulder. “Sam.” Sometimes I don’t know what to say to people.

  He rests his head on top of mine. “Annie,” he sighs. He always says Annie like that, as if he wants to say something more but can only get out my name.

  However, today he does say more. He speaks quietly, so only I can hear it.

  “I can’t believe I’m missing calculus. You’re really irritating.” But the way he says it, it sounds like he means the opposite.

  I laugh again, this time a sharp outburst that bubbles up from my lungs. Dana looks over, like, what? But I just smile. I shut my eyes and stay where I am, my head leaning on Sam’s shoulder.

  Maybe it’s just my imagination, but I think I feel Sam tip his face toward mine just a bit, and I swear his mouth is just an inch from my temple and I can feel his breath on my skin, and it’s almost like he might kiss me on the forehead. But of course, he doesn’t. It’s just a weird thought that I have, probably wishful thinking. The idea of a boy kissing me is something I think about a lot, but if it happened in real life, I’m sure it would be too much for me to handle. I’d probably explode and evaporate into thin air.

  After ten more minutes, where I almost fall asleep because it’s getting hot on the bus and I’m cuddled comfortably up against Sam, the door squeaks open. The VP comes jogging up the two steps to address us. I sit up straight.

  Mr. Galanes straightens his jacket. “Look, Annika. They’ll talk to your driver about the speed limit and have a supervisor ride along for the rest of the week. That’s all I can do. I tried.” He clears his throat, then speaks a little louder. “For whoever is left on the bus right now: I’ll see all of you in lunch detention today.”

  Everyone groans.

  “Okay, Mr. Galanes.” It’s not exactly a big win, but we got at least one concession. One little something we can brag about. I turn to Dana. “Sound good?”

  She hesitates just a moment and then nods, satisfied. “Yeah, let’s go.”

  I stand up and look at Sam. “Thanks.”

  “Sure.” He stares back, and it’s hard for me to know what he’s thinking.

  “I hope you’re not sorry you got detention for such a small victory. Maybe you should’ve gone to class.”

  “Nah, I would never abandon you, Karlsson. You’re way too cute.”

  I feel my face get hot, and hurry off the bus. No one ever said anything like that to me before.

  It’s only when we’re in the hallway that Dana says, “I cannot believe your sister didn’t stay.”

  She’s right. Lisa wasn’t there for me. “I know.”

  I don’t know why it seems like Lisa and I are growing apart, but clearly, we are. I thought sisters were supposed to be close—and stay close. Read each other’s minds. Know each other’s thoughts. Feel what’s in each other’s hearts. So . . . why aren’t we like that?

  Is something wrong with us?

  * * *

  By second period there’s some kind of strange energy going on around the school, and the hallways are buzzing with kids moving and talking. Dana and I follow the crowd to the gym and gasp when we enter.

  Someone has spray-painted BUS SAFETY SAVES LIVES in blue on the cement brick wall, behind one of the basketball nets. Dana and I burst out laughing because we’re both absolutely shocked.

  “Who in the world would do that?” Dana has to pat her chest as she chokes on her own laughter. She doubles over and puts her hands on her knees.

  “I don’t know!” I’m stupefied. I think it’s hilarious. Hilariously stupid. I mean, the bus sit-in worked, and now it’s over, so what’s the point of . . . ?

  Oh. And suddenly, I know who did it.

  That’s when I see Mrs. Evans, the gym teacher, talking to Sam. She’s shaking her head, hands on her hips. She’s shorter and squatter than Sam is, with big, round glasses, and she looks genuinely hurt
and disappointed as she gazes up at him.

  I’m confused. When Sam notices me watching him, he comes jogging over.

  “Hey,” he says, “I told her it was me, so you won’t get in trouble. Worst-case scenario, I can’t play in the game on Friday night. But I’m exhausted anyway. I don’t mind missing one game.”

  “Worst-case scenario . . . ?” I’m dumbfounded. “Sam, you know it wasn’t me who spray-painted this, right? It was probably Lisa.” I look around to confirm that my sister is nowhere in sight. “No, it was definitely Lisa.”

  He freezes, mouth partly open. “Really?” For the first time, worry flickers over his face, but then his mouth sets in a grim line. “Whatever. It’s fine. At least she was trying to help us out, right? You wanted her to help, and she did. It’s actually kind of badass. She did this first period? She could’ve been caught so easily.” He looks back to admire my sister’s work on the wall.

  I smack his arm. “But I was kidding! I would never spray paint the school. I didn’t want anyone to do that.”

  Two police officers walk into the gym. They approach Mrs. Evans, and she points them in the direction of Sam.

  I can see the fear now in Sam’s face as he realizes that missing a football game might not actually be the worst of it. I reach out and grab his elbow, and when he turns toward me I throw both arms around him. “Sam,” I beg. “Please don’t get in trouble for this. Just tell them Lisa did it. Or at least admit it wasn’t you. I’ll feel horrible if anything bad happens to you.”

  When I pull away, the worry has melted from Sam’s face. His smile is totally sweet and mushy. I don’t know how else to describe it. “No way, Karlsson,” he says, crinkling up his nose. “I’m not ratting out your sister. No chance. Too late now. You wanted a protest, and you got one. Be happy.”

  I try to smile. He stands up straighter as the two police officers approach. Be happy? I’m mortified.

  “Take it easy,” he goes on, looking me over. “Nothing bad is gonna happen to me. Seriously. It was worth it just to see you get so worked up. You never hugged me like that before.”