“Night,” I say to them both, and leave them to it, whatever Iris is about to do.
When I get into bed, my muscles unlock, and I sink into the mattress. My eyelids are heavy, and they close as soon as I pull the quilt up to my chin.
My mind is working overtime. Does Dad love Rachel? How long will he be able to stay away from her? It’s not fair that we ask him to put his life on hold indefinitely. I want to wait a few months before I meet her, but I don’t know how long Iris is thinking. It didn’t sound like she wants him to date at all.
She was angry.
Her face, her tense posture, the sharp tone in her voice. It was as if she thinks Dad is dating to spite her or something. I squeeze my eyes tighter together.
I want to support Iris and make sure she’s comfortable here, but I don’t want that to be at the expense of Dad’s happiness.
How do we manage this? And what about Rachel? If she wants to be with my dad, she’s going to want to meet us. I hope she doesn’t think we don’t like her already just because we’re not ready to meet her.
My door creaks. It does that when you very first open it, only for the first inch.
I don’t know if it’s Dad or Iris, but I don’t want to talk, so I keep still.
With my eyes closed, my hearing is heightened. The pad of quiet footsteps and shallow breathing sounds like it’s right in my ear. It’s Iris.
I lay still but curl my hands into fists under my cover. What does she want?
My heart beats faster, and I have to slow my breathing, so I don’t give myself away.
Why is she watching me?
Another minute later, I hear her retreat and my door creaks again as she closes it. The sliver of light let in my room from outside disappears and I see nothing but darkness through my eyelids.
24
The next morning, I’m exhausted. I barely slept at all.
Getting out of bed, I grab my phone and Ty’s hoodie from the back of my chair. The house is silent and dark. I walk down the corridor and downstairs.
Creepy Iris isn’t down here, so she’s still sleeping rather than people watching. I don’t think I can face her before I’ve had a coffee. I’ll never get through school without a little caffeine.
I make a pot of coffee and think back to yesterday. It’s like she’s fixated on me—sliding in with my group of friends, watching my practice, needing to be in the same classes.
Was she like this with her old friends? It doesn’t seem like her. Iris was always a leader. She even has Ellie waiting for her and calling her first.
I sip my coffee. I think it’s time I check her social media. Maybe I’ll find her old bestie. Kate? Cara? I’m sure her name started with a K or a C.
Unlocking my cell, I pull up Instagram. Back when I had time to spend hours on my phone, I noticed how much Iris posts on there compared to Facebook. That’s the best place to start.
Iris’s profile pops up, and I scroll through the people she’s following. There are a lot of celebrities, a lot of people from school, none who I recognize from visiting Mom’s. I don’t really remember all her friends, but I think I could recognize faces.
Wait. I scroll through her friends list with a frown. Most of these are people I know. Relatives and distant relatives we both added at family weddings, though we knew it was unlikely we’d see them again. A few friends of the family.
Where are her friends?
I scroll faster, my eyes quickly scanning the name and picture of each one as my heart beats harder.
Then my mouth drops and the hairs on my forearms rise as I realize.
She’s unfollowed all her friends from her old school.
I personally know everyone on her list. The only people she has kept are family.
She has erased her past and the life she and Mom built with the click of a button.
Why doesn’t she want to stay friends with the people she spent years with?
I get needing to have a fresh start. Sometimes, when my anxiety is running wild, I would love to run away to someplace new. But you can’t outrun who you are. There is only so long that Iris can put off grieving for Mom and missing her old home and friends.
I go to her Facebook profile. She hasn’t posted much at all. A lot of people have posted on her page. Lots of sympathy over our mom’s death.
She hasn’t replied to any of them.
I scroll back up. There must be someone from her old school who she was close to. I click on her photos but most of them are gone. All that is left is a picture of her and Dad she has as her profile picture from years ago, a couple random photos of shoes she’d bought, and a lot of selfies.
Where are the pictures of us? I remember being tagged. I remember reading her friends’ comments about how crazy it is that we look so alike and laughing.
Identical twins looking alike. Crazy stuff there.
I’m not a part of her old life, her old circle of friends. I’m family. Why am I gone too? She’s left me on her friends list, at least.
Did she delete me because of her friends’ comments on our pictures or did she not want me?
So she has been on here to remove people and pictures. Not recently, though—she hasn’t deleted the posts from her classmates.
Ugh, I don’t know what I’m doing. What am I even looking for?
Social media isn’t going to give me any answers. I flick the TV on. I could really use a distraction, so an early-morning Gilmore Girls marathon sounds perfect.
At least my relationship with my sister isn’t as messy as Lorelai’s is with her mom.
I’m on the second episode and my second coffee when I hear light footsteps thudding downstairs.
My body tenses and I look over. Iris wears a frown as she approaches.
“What are you doing, Ivy?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” I reply. “Coffee is still hot if you want one.”
She tilts her head. “How long have you been down here?”
“Since about five-thirty. Why?”
“Why did you wake up?” she presses.
Because I couldn’t sleep after you spent a whole minute watching me.
I don’t go with that, though. I’m a chicken and I don’t want to cause a fuss. She would go on the defensive, and Dad would tell me I’m being unreasonable and need to cut her some more slack. So I go with “I’m not sure, just one of those nights.”
She sits down. “You seem to have a lot of those nights.”
“I’ve never slept well. You know that.”
“Yeah, the parents used to talk about the good sleeper and the bad one.”
I nod. “I’m the bad one.”
“Do you need a refill?” she asks, glancing at my mug.
“No, thanks, already on my second cup.”
“Okay, be back in a minute. I love Gilmore Girls.”
I look over my shoulder as she bounds into the kitchen. I’m envious of her energy.
We manage to watch an entire episode before we need to leave for school. In the parking lot we bump into Ellie and Logan.
“Morning,” Ellie says, letting go of Logan and linking arms with Iris.
“Morning, Ellie,” Iris replies.
Logan and I kind of fall into step with each other as Ellie and Iris move to the side.
I give him a tight smile. “Logan.”
Wringing my hands, I force my eyes ahead. It’s always awkward seeing him again after what happened last year. The party, his drunk lips. Nope. I didn’t even want him to kiss me and now I have to keep our secret.
He nods. “Hey, Ivy. How’s swimming?”
“Fine. Football? Ty says you’re scoring more. That’s good.”
He scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, it’s awesome.”
This feels really uncomfortable. I
wish the steps to school would move closer.
Logan slaps his forehead. “Just remembered that I need to check in with Coach this morning,” he says. “See you later.”
I look away quickly.
He leans over and pecks Ellie on the lips before jogging off ahead of us.
“Got the smell of death out of your locker yet?” Ellie asks.
Now, if she was asking that to make general conversation, she wouldn’t have asked like such a bitch. Nor would she have a smirk on her glossy lips. She blinks her hazel eyes.
“Yes, thanks.”
“Terrible how it got in and died.”
My eyes narrow. It might be terrible, but it might not be an accident. No, Ellie would never touch a mouse. No way. She refused to dissect the frog in class and won’t play any sport outside in case her manicure gets ruined.
Iris nudges her arm. “You two would get along if you spent any time together.”
Ellie folds her arms over her chest.
I smile, but I’m sure my expression is saying much more. Ellie and I don’t get along.
“I’m going to head in and find Ty,” I tell Iris and Ellie.
I rush through the large double doors. Ty’s not usually at school before me unless he needs to come in early for something football related, but I’m still looking for him in case. He’s not by his locker. Mine is a little farther away, but I can see it and there’s no Ty in front of it.
Damn it. I could really do with him being here. I need to know we’re okay. I’m tired and he will make things better. He’s so good at that, even without trying.
Walking up to his locker, I lean back against it and wait.
Sophie and Haley walk toward me, but I see Sophie looking at her phone and suddenly they turn around. I look over Haley’s shoulder. Iris and Ellie are heading toward them.
They talk for a second and I watch, wondering what they’re laughing about.
My heart drops as they all walk off. They definitely saw me, but they acted like I’m not here. Sophie and Haley don’t even like Ellie. They’ve spent hours gossiping over how she thinks she’s better than everyone else. Why do they suddenly want to be friends with her?
What kind of influence does Iris have?
25
Iris is already sitting at her desk when I get to Geography. I slide in next to her and open my book.
Mrs. Lynden starts class, and Iris silently listens. I flick my eyes to my sister. She usually chats through most classes and causes me to lose focus.
Shaking my head, I turn my attention back to my book and try to follow what we’re being taught. Which is geography, so it might as well be a foreign language.
Iris taps her fingertips on the desk, one slightly after the other and all so lightly I can barely hear it.
So she doesn’t want to talk to me, but she also doesn’t want to let me focus. Excellent.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to block out the constant tapping. It sounds like a mouse scuttling across the floor. I dig my fingers into the wooden desktop and take a deep breath.
My heart skips.
She needs to stop.
I want to slam my hand down on hers.
Focus on reading. I know what page we’re on in the textbook, but I’m not following, so I start at the top.
Why doesn’t it make sense?
Tap, tap, tap.
My eye twitches.
Focus on the book.
I press my lips together.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Iris smiling.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
She’s doing this on purpose.
Tap, tap, tap.
“Iris, stop!” I snap, shouting so loud my body jolts at the volume.
Gasping, I turn my head to my sister. She’s staring back at me wide-eyed. As is the rest of the class.
“Ivy, is there a problem?” Mrs. Lynden asks.
Burning with humiliation, I lower my gaze. “No, sorry.”
“Iris?”
“I have no idea what’s going on. I don’t know why she shouted at me.” Iris looks back at me. “Are you feeling okay?”
As if she’s trying to make out that I’m the one with the problem. “I’m fine,” I say, swallowing.
“If you need to go to the nurse, please do,” Mrs. Lynden tells me.
“I’m fine,” I repeat, sinking in my seat as my classmates whisper about me.
I shouted out in the middle of class while the teacher was talking. Iris was looking ahead. The taps on the table so slight and quiet that no one else noticed.
They must think I’m crazy.
“You haven’t been sleeping,” Iris says. “Maybe you should go to the nurse or go home.”
Mrs. Lynden walks down the aisle and stops by my desk. “Ivy,” she says softly, lowering her voice so the whole classroom can’t hear. “Would you like to be excused?”
No, I don’t want to be excused. I want my sister to stop messing with me.
I rub my eyes and say, “I’m fine.”
“Well, I trust there will be no more outbursts, then.”
Looking down at my book, I nod. Iris got the better of me there, but I won’t let it happen again.
Class obviously passes slowly. Iris doesn’t mention anything as we walk to English. Not that I expected her to—that would be admitting she’s done something wrong.
But I can’t walk into English and have her do the same thing. I can’t snap again.
“Hey,” I say, grabbing her wrist as we get closer to the door. “What was that back there?”
She pulls her arm out of my grasp and frowns. “What was what?”
“The tapping. It’s usually constant chatter, now you’re tapping.”
“Huh?”
Scoffing, I say, “Don’t play dumb. You were tapping on the desk and that’s why I shouted. You made me look like a total idiot.”
“I didn’t even know I was doing it. Why would that make you all crazy, anyway? Honestly, Ivy, I can’t believe you’re blaming me for this when you’re the one who freaked out in class.”
My lips part. Is she for real? “You knew what you were doing.”
She holds her palms up. “Okay, you’re being ridiculous, and I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”
When I’m like this? Is she for real?
I watch her walk into class with her head in the air.
Bitch.
“Ivy, what happened?”
I look to my side as Ty jogs toward me.
“Ty, what are you doing here?”
“I got a text saying you screamed at Iris in class.”
Rolling my eyes, I mumble, “Great. First, I didn’t scream. Second, she was constantly tapping her fingers on the desk, so I snapped at her.”
His head tilts to the side, looking at me with concern brimming in his forest-green eyes. “Babe…”
“Don’t. I shouldn’t have done that. But I’m struggling in Geography enough as it is.”
He frowns at me. “You’re getting As in Geography.”
“Yes, but I’m struggling.” Looking up to the ceiling, I take a long breath. “Ty, I don’t know what’s going on with her.”
“Iris?”
“Yeah. But listen, we’re both late. I’ll talk to you at lunch, okay?”
She’s so back and forth. Now she’s getting to my friends first thing in the morning when they would usually look for me.
And where is her old friend? Why hasn’t she got in touch?
He grabs my hand. “Uh-uh, not happening. Something is going on with you and we’re not going anywhere until I’m convinced that you’re okay.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Oh really?”
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
“T
y, come on. Iris will definitely tell if I cut class.”
He shrugs. “I think the teachers will understand given the circumstances.”
Yeah, they will, but I don’t want to use Mom’s death as an excuse. I don’t want understanding because I lost someone I love. That doesn’t feel right to me.
He looks around the hallway. It’s completely clear, but it won’t be in a minute, because Iris will tell the teacher I’m out here. He takes my hand. “Come on.”
I let him lead me away because although I don’t want to crumble and let Mom’s death affect school, it clearly is. Before she died, I had more patience. I would have been able to ignore Iris back there. Now I’m unsure if my lack of patience is due to grief or my sister being super frustrating.
We leave the school building and go to his car. He’s parked far enough away that we won’t be seen. If we go back when the bell rings, we should be able to blend in with the crowd.
Not that it’ll matter because our teachers will know we’re absent from this class and they’ll ask questions.
I’m too tired to care.
I lie back against the passenger seat and close my eyes.
“Any time you want to start talking, babe…”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“I’m worried about you,” he confesses. “Losing it in class is…”
“Yeah, I know.” Out of character. Embarrassing. “And everyone is talking about it. Do you think Mrs. Lynden will call my dad?”
“Probably not. Unless you do it again.” He winks at me. “I’m sure Mrs. Lynden has forgotten it already.”
God, I hope so.
“She was watching me sleep.”
His head rolls to the side, facing me. “What?”
“I’ve heard her by my door. I pretend to be asleep.”
A frown pulls his eyebrows together. “You’re sure she’s watching you sleep?”
“Well, I hear her breathing outside my door. Clearly I don’t see her because I’m pretending to be asleep.”
He says nothing for the longest time. Silence stretches into minutes. I sink lower in the seat. He thinks I’m insane. I sound like it, so why wouldn’t he think that? Maybe I should have picked a better time to tell him, not straight after a classroom meltdown.
The Twin Page 13
