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We’re completely alone.
“I . . . I hate her, too.”
Missy’s eyes, brown like chocolate, slip over my face, studying me. The face that mirrors her own, while looking nothing like it at the same time.
Yin and yang.
“For what she does to you,” I whisper.
It feels like uttering a death threat against the king in Tudor England.
“And you.”
Guilt washes through me. I’ve suffered Mom’s punishments, but . . . never anything as bad as Missy.
“Yeah, me too. You get the worst of it, though.”
She rolls her eyes, looking back at the clouds.
“It’s because I’m different.”
“You’re too much alike,” I correct, matter-of-fact. “Both intelligent. Both driven and brave.”
She side-eyes me. “It’s because I don’t listen to her. You do. That makes you brave in my book. Smart. Doing stuff you don’t want to so you don’t have to live through whatever she dishes out. Hell, half the punishments you endure are because you take the fall for me.”
I shake my head. “I’m just scared. Not brave.”
Missy shakes her head. Sometimes, I wish I could be as brave as Missy. Stand up for myself and what I know is right. I wish I wasn’t afraid of the dark. My own shadow. The sound of our mother’s voice when she’s angry.
“Why don’t you come back to college with me? You can reapply. Pick a different major. Something you’ll actually like.”
“College isn’t for me.”
“But . . . what are you going to do?”
She shrugs, a small smile creeping onto her face. “Disappear.” She sucks in a deep breath, letting it slip out slowly. “Maybe I’ll turn into a bird and fly far, far away from sunny California. Maybe go somewhere frigid cold where no one would ever think to look.”
“Please don’t,” I murmur. “At least not without saying goodbye, first.”
She’s quiet for a moment listening to the birds chirp and watching as the clouds darken overhead. I listen to the sounds of the neighborhood around us, someone mowing their grass down the road. The cars driving past, just outside the wall.
Our prison wall.
“You’re so dramatic,” Missy chuckles, brushing the moment off. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“You sure?” I’m not sure I believe her. Missy doesn’t make idle threats.
But . . . she lays her hand on top of mine and gives my fingers a soft squeeze.
“Of course. We’re twins, remember?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
She may think she’s enigmatic, but I know her and I know when she’s lying. She’s going to leave someday and I’ll have to make the choice to either go with her or stay and do as I’m told.
I close my eyes, letting the cool breeze quell the pressure behind my eyes. I refuse to cry because Missy wouldn’t cry.
Distantly, thunder rumbles on the horizon and when I force my eyes open and look up at the sky, the clouds are dark . . . angry.
