Gemini

by Sonya Mukherjee

  “Um . . .”

  Hailey, who had been holding herself so silent and still that it was almost like she wasn’t there (yeah, right, as if I’d know what that would feel like), now took the opportunity to kick me pretty hard in the side of my calf. And then, because she can feel what happens to my legs, she had the gall to cry out, “Ow!”

  Max looked confused.

  I laughed. “Um, yeah, okay. I’ll ask them.”

  “Great. I’ll make popcorn. Um, do you like popcorn?” He sounded worried. “Because I could also make something else.”

  And that was when I realized that all this time, feeling angry at Max for being afraid of me, I’d missed the fact that I was afraid of him. And all of a sudden, at least for just that moment, I wasn’t anymore.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I love popcorn.”

  I smiled at him, and lo and behold, that was all it took to make him smile back.

  12

  Hailey

  “So you guys have to help me,” I told Bridget and Juanita at lunch the next day, sitting out on the grass. I could feel the coldness of the ground right through our picnic blanket, and we were all huddled inside thick winter coats. “How can I convince Clara to go to a three-week art program in San Francisco this summer?”

  Since talking to Alek, my mind had been fizzing continuously with those same three Mentos-like thoughts: San Francisco. Art professors. Alek.

  Juanita laughed. “Could we start with an easier problem? Like how to stop climate change?”

  “I’m serious,” I said. “It’s just three weeks in the dorms. With artists! They’re all weird anyway. They love weird. We’ll be gods to them. How can I make her see it?”

  Clara nudged me. “Could you stop talking about me like I’m not here?”

  “I never talk about you like you’re not here,” I retorted. “I wouldn’t even know how to do that.”

  “Well, it might be good practice,” Bridget said. “Living in the dorms. Since you’ll be in the dorms at Sutter in the fall.”

  I cocked my head to one side, squinting at her. “No, that was never the plan. We’re going to live at home.”

  “Oh.” She frowned. “I thought we were all living in the dorms together.”

  “Our tuition is free through our dad,” Clara explained. “But not room and board. Plus, it’s easier for us to live at home, because we don’t drive. Or, you know, grocery shop or anything.”

  “But you don’t have to do those things in the dorms,” Bridget pointed out.

  “Well, I’m probably going to be living at home too,” Juanita said. “So that will be good. I can still drive you guys around in your minivan and everything, or maybe I can buy myself an old used car to get around to classes and work, and if it has the kind of backseat and leg room that you guys need, then I could even drive you around in that. Anyway, we can all hang out.”

  “Hey, I know,” Bridget put in. “We could all share a house. Juanita and I can drive and shop, and you guys can help with stuff at home, and we can get furniture from Ikea and make our own decorations, and have parties—oh, this will be so fun!”

  It actually did sound fun—a lot better than living at home. More expensive, but at least we’d be getting a taste of independence. Maybe there was some way we could swing it. It had to be more realistic than my crazy art school dreams.

  And maybe I could even try this ridiculous film school idea of Clara’s; maybe I could make that work. People had been sending me a few clips, and some thoughts were starting to percolate around them in my mind. It was still pretty shapeless, but the seeds were there, and I was starting to see how film might be a canvas after all. I hadn’t told Clara about any of this; I had watched all the clips with my headphones on, at times when she had her back to me and her mind focused on other things. I liked the idea of trying to surprise her.

  But then I looked at Juanita, and her face was frozen in this sort of half smile, and there was so much sadness in her eyes that I thought she might be trying not to cry. And then I felt like I might cry myself.

  “Not Juanita,” I said. “You’re leaving, okay? We’re going to figure this out. I don’t want to hear any more talk about you living at home next year.”

  She shook her head. “My dad did all these calculations. He just showed me last night, and he’s right. It makes more sense if I take community college classes two days a week for the next two years, and work for three or four days a week. Then I can save money and I won’t need so many loans.”

  “Where are you going to work?” I demanded. “Taco Bell?”

  She looked down. “There are worse things in the world.”

  “But I just don’t see the point. Yeah, college means loans, but it also means a higher salary, so you can pay them back. I feel like they’re trying to bury you alive.”

  “No. They’re just trying to be sensible.” She gave her body an almost imperceptible shake, as if she were literally shaking the whole thing off. “Anyway, what’s the deal with this art program? You really want to go to San Francisco this summer?”

  “I really do.” I’d spent a couple of hours looking at the program’s website the night before. You picked two media and basically did art all day, six days a week, including some lectures and exhibitions. Some of their faculty had done this really mind-blowing work. I wanted it the way a little kid wants the candy at the supermarket checkout—with every molecule of my soul.

  “The problem,” I said, “is that Clara’s too freaked out.”

  Clara sighed helplessly. “It’s San Francisco. It’s a dorm. It’s nonstop art. There are so many things wrong with this. Too many things.”

  I grabbed her hand and twisted toward her, straining to see her whole face. But I couldn’t, because she wouldn’t look back at me.

  “Just go to the interview,” I said. “Just let me apply. Come to the campus with me. That’s all I’m asking for.”

  “That doesn’t even make sense,” she said, finally looking up to meet my eyes. “Why would you apply if you’re not serious about going?”

  “Just to see the place. Just to know. You have to give me this.”

  She drew away, folding her hands in her lap. “No,” she said. “I don’t have to.”

  I was conscious of Juanita and Bridget pointedly looking away from us as they munched on their sandwiches and celery sticks. No help at all, these two.

  “Anyway,” Clara said, “you’ll never be able to convince Mom. And how will we even get there? She’d probably have to drive us, and she’ll never agree to that.”

  “Oh, I can handle her.”

  “Really? How?”

  I shrugged. “I’ll tell her I’m not serious about going to the program. I’ll tell her the interview’s just an excuse to visit San Francisco and try something new. It’s just a lark.”

  “So you’re basically going to lie to her about it, the same way you’re lying to me.”

  I grinned. “Exactly.”

  Clara shook her head.

  I’d heard of conjoined twins who took turns making decisions, or doing the things they wanted. Like, on Mondays we do whatever you say, and on Tuesdays I get you back. Clara and I had never had a system like that. Usually we could just work things out, often with very little discussion. It was one of our magical qualities; just like we could walk, stop, and turn corners without talking about it, we could decide on most activities and priorities almost as easily. Two strong bodies, two strong brains, and more often than not, one will.

  But every now and then we had to negotiate.

  “What do you want?” I said. “In exchange for going to the interview.”

  “It has to be in San Francisco? I mean, don’t they have an option where the interviewer can come to us here or something?”

  I didn’t know the answer to that, but it didn’t matter. That wouldn’t give me what I wanted at all.

  “I could write your English paper for you,” I offered. “Or we could schedule an extra five trips to the
observatory. You can pick what we have for dinner every time Mom gives us a choice for the next, I don’t know, the next year if you want.”

  Clara took a bite of her pesto chicken wrap and chewed it slowly. I was not exactly breathing, because I was afraid she would come up with something way worse than what I’d offered. Something like, Don’t go to the dance with Alek.

  Finally she put down the wrap. “No,” she said, “I don’t want any of those things.”

  “Come on, Clara, you have to work with me here. There has to be something—”

  “I want to trade Halloween costumes.”

  I frowned. “What? Really? You want to be the Wicked Witch of the West?”

  “Yes. I’m tired of always having the good-guy costume and letting you be the villain.”

  “But everyone will be confused,” Bridget protested. “Hailey is always, always the bad guy. You’ll be ruining your awesome tradition.”

  “That’s okay,” Juanita said. “It’s about time they shook things up.”

  In our previous sixteen years of Halloweens, Clara had never objected to being the good guy before. And I had no idea why she wanted this now.

  I pictured walking into Amber’s annual Halloween party dressed as Glinda the Good Witch, all sparkly and smiley and so sweet that she could rot your teeth. What if Alek came to the party? Having him see me that way—wouldn’t he assume that I’d chosen that costume on purpose? Alek was so serious and full of darkness; his art, it seemed to me, was all about destroying ridiculous images of cheerful, sunny perfection. It was all about being disgusted with the perfectly pruned flower gardens of the world. I couldn’t let him think that a character like Glinda was what I admired, or what I aspired to. He would never take me seriously after that.

  And then, also, what if he couldn’t tell it was me, and not Clara, under that glittery blond wig? What if no one could? Clara would still be on the right, like always, but our costumes would be confusing, our hair covered up, and our faces indistinguishable—especially with the extra makeup. What if it turned out that nobody actually knew who was who?

  On the other hand, what if I said no, and because of that I never got the chance to go to San Francisco at all? Ever, for the rest of my life?

  “Hailey,” Juanita said, “why are you even hesitating? This is an amazing deal for you.”

  I shuddered. “Yeah, okay. I’ll do it.”

  13

  Clara

  True to his word, Max served three flavors of fresh popcorn on his deck, which was every bit as wide, comfortable, and splinter-free as he’d advertised. The house was up on a hill, and the trees and brush were cleared around it, leaving an expansive view of a clear, moonless, almost pornographically star-studded night sky. The one thing he hadn’t said a word about was that Gavin and Josh were going to be there.

  Gavin. And Josh. From the basketball team. Josh, who two years earlier had dumped Juanita for the despicable Lindsey Baker. And Gavin, who just eight months earlier, while dating Lindsey, had drunkenly confessed his love to Juanita in front of several classmates. It wasn’t Juanita’s fault, but people seemed to blame her anyway—even now, months later, when Gavin and Josh were dating Lindsey’s two best friends, and for some reason no one seemed to have a problem with that.

  Juanita was carrying two beach bags full of blankets and sweaters for the three of us—Sherpa-like, without complaint, as usual—and the minute she saw the guys, the straps slipped off her shoulder and a couple of blankets tumbled out.

  She bent to stuff the blankets back down, hiding her face. Of course, she saw these guys at school every day. But outside of school, she’d been avoiding them for months.

  “Hey, guys,” she said to me and Hailey, not looking at Josh and Gavin, “I’m going to set our stuff down.” She walked away, to where the chairs sat at the other end of the deck.

  Josh and Gavin were unfazed. “Hey, Juanita. Hey there, Hailey and Clara,” Gavin said, while Josh nodded and raised a hand in greeting.

  As Juanita settled our bags among the deck chairs under the porch lights, a woman emerged from the house. “Hello, hello!” she cried. “I’m Max’s mom, Julie. You must be those wonderful twins he was telling me so much about.” She peered at each of us. “You’re Clara, right? The astronomy enthusiast. And you’re Hailey, and despite having the name of the world’s most famous comet, you’re an artist rather than an astronomer.” Her smile was almost as huge and glittering as her son’s. “I’m just so excited to meet you. I’ve heard so much. You both sound like amazing individuals.”

  Amazing individuals? Was I supposed to believe Max had said anything vaguely resembling that? The thought gave me an eerie, creepy-crawly feeling under my skin.

  She held out her hand, and when I shook it, she gripped my arm with her left hand and gazed deeply into my eyes. She gave me the squirm-worthy feeling that she was trying very hard to peer inside my brain. After giving Hailey the same treatment, she said, “This is so lovely. The two of you have incredible strength. I can feel it.”

  “Aww, Mom, cut it out.” Leaning in toward us, Max said in a loud stage whisper, “I promise, I won’t let her read your chakras or investigate your past lives.”

  His mom waved this away. “Girls, please introduce me to your other friends.”

  She looked expectantly at Gavin and Josh, so we introduced them.

  Juanita came back, and I noticed that Max’s mom didn’t grasp her arm like she had done with us, or call her an amazing individual with incredible strength.

  “And are all of you astronomy enthusiasts?” she asked.

  “Not really,” said Josh cheerfully, “but we heard there’s gonna be some shooting stars, and Clara’s the expert, so I figured she could tell us which stars are shooting at us.”

  “Um, ah, hmmm,” I bantered wittily. I was only 85 percent sure he was joking. It was hard to believe Juanita had once been smitten with this guy. But she had been. Very.

  “Well, I’ll just be inside if anyone needs anything,” Max’s mom said.

  As everyone thanked her, Max stepped closer to me and Hailey and said, “Sorry about my mom. She’s weird with everyone.”

  I didn’t believe him—she’d been a lot weirder with me and Hailey than with anyone else—but I smiled anyway and lied right back. “I thought she was nice.”

  “If you want to come and sit down,” Max said, “any spot is good. We could push any two of the chairs—actually, no, wait. Here’s the best spot, right here.”

  He pushed two of the reclining poolside chairs together, angling them to look right up at the spot where most of tonight’s meteors would appear—between the Orion and Gemini constellations.

  Unfortunately, Hailey and I were going to have to maneuver ourselves into the chairs while the three guys looked on. Actually sitting in them would not be a problem, but the process of getting into them would involve a lot of butt-scooting unprettiness.

  I caught Juanita’s eye. She looked down at the chairs, then back up at me and Hailey, and she seemed to register the problem, because she suddenly started asking questions about which chair she should choose, and whether she could move it, or did Max think it would be too heavy for her? All three boys sprang into action, turning their backs to us as they fought to help Juanita move a single lightweight deck chair.

  Sophomore year, when Juanita had been dating Josh, she had spent some time hanging out with him and his friends. As I watched Josh carry her chair, I thought about how she could have chosen to stick with that crowd if she’d wanted to. She could have been homecoming queen.

  Max would end up in that group too, I supposed. And if he did turn out to be as nice as he was cute, wasn’t it Juanita who ought to date him? If he was worthy, there was no point in her holding back just because of my unrealistic fantasy life.

  While they were distracted, Hailey and I sat down, with Hailey fully on one chair and me sort of dangling at its edge. Then we hurriedly wiggled and scrunched ourselves across. Finally we both
rested our weight away from each other, because if we rested it more at the center, where the chairs and our bodies met, there might be some danger of the chairs separating, and us falling through the center seam. Trust me, we’ve seen it all.

  Meanwhile, the rest of them started working out who would sit where; they didn’t talk about it, but I could see the hesitations, the back-and-forth moves, the hanging back, until finally it ended with us lined up thusly: Josh, Max, me, Hailey, Juanita, Gavin.

  Josh grabbed a popcorn bowl from the table next to him, took a handful, and passed it down. “So,” he said amiably, “I always get this mixed up. What is it that’s going to land in Max’s yard in a fiery ball of destruction? A meteor? Or a meteorite?”

  “Meteor!” I shouted, pointing, because one of them had just shot across the sky. Everyone looked up, but too late.

  “First meteor sighting of the night,” Max said. “A point for Clara.”

  “Oooh, do we get a point for every one we spot?” I asked. “What do I get when I win?”

  “Don’t get too confident,” Max admonished me. “I’ve never been beaten yet.”

  “That’s because you’ve never played against me,” I told him, surprised and a little pleased by my own boldness. “Come on, what’s the prize? Better make it a good one.”

  Gavin laughed. “All these years in school together, and I never knew the twins had such a competitive side. I feel like I’ve been missing out.”

  The twins? Did he not know which one I was?

  “Okay,” Max said, “I’ll tell you what, Clara. You and I are going mano a mano here, since we’re the only ones who actually care. You’re up for that, right?”

  He cocked an eyebrow at me, and I nodded.

  “All right then, here’s the deal. The loser has to show the winner something new in the sky, up at the observatory. Could be something they’ve never seen before, or a different take on it, some fact they didn’t know. Deal?”