Page 30 of My Twin Sister

I look around, trying to avoid making eye contact with her. There are two more women, both wearing the green aprons that signify their employee status. They stand close together, whispering and looking our way. They’re probably talking about me. I’ll be the topic of town gossip for a while.

I pay for my things, and we walk toward the exit. As we pass the women, I catch a piece of their conversation.

“Do you think he abused his daughters too? I mean he had to, right?”

I can feel the blood drain from my face. I glance over at Geny. From the look on her face, I can tell she heard them too. Neither of us mention it as we load the bags into my trunk.

We listen to the same playlist on the way home, and then play it on her Bluetooth speaker in the kitchen while we put the groceries away. The mood has lifted slightly since overhearing the nasty conversation at the grocery store. It’s almost the afternoon I’d hoped we have, except for the one blemish on the day. I push it out of my mind and try to let myself enjoy the touch of normalcy and lightness with my sister.

“Do you remember the talent show we did in sixth grade?” Geny asks.

I cover my face with my hands and groan. “Nooooo. I try my best to forget!”

Geny cackles and I swat at her, which just sends her into another fit of laughter. It pulls my mind even further from the comments in town.

“You injured yourself trying to do a Shakira dance,” Geny says between breaths.

“Shut up! You did a freaking magic show! And you were afraid of the rabbit!”

She looks at me with wide eyes and throws her hands up. “That rabbit was mean. And I don’t like the way their feet kick all fast.” She shivers.

I laugh. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m not. That bunny was evil.”

I collapse onto the couch, and Geny sits across from me in one of the armchairs.

“Do you remember when Ben Turner tried to kiss you and you cried?” I ask.

Her face screws up in disgust. “He was gross.”

“He was not! He was adorable.”

“I saw him picking his nose on the bus once,” she says.

“Oh, like you’ve never picked your nose.”

Her mouth falls open. “I haven’t!”

I sit up on the couch and lean toward her. “Genevieve! I shared a room with you. You definitely have!”

She gasps. “I literally have never! You’re lying!”

“I am not. I remember it clearly!”

“Well, your memory can’t exactly be trusted, can it?”

I open my mouth to respond before her words really hit my brain. Then I close it without saying anything.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “That was mean. I ruined the moment—”

I shake my head. “No. You’re right.”

“It was a stupid thing to say. I don’t know why I said it.”

I shrug. “Because it’s true.” I stand up. “Hey, I’m going to go shower. I have plans later tonight and I don’t want to be in a dried layer of sweat.”

“Grace . . .”