Page 44 of My Twin Sister

She takes a breath and another drink from her can before setting it down. “Well, shit. That sucks.” Tara gets to her feet. “I’ll be right back. Gotta use the little girls’ room.”

She walks away and everyone is quiet. Her angry inquisition came out of nowhere. It’s bad timing, because she’s in the house and everyone else is out here. This is probably my only shot to talk to her alone. So I get up too.

“I’ll be right back.” I jog to the house, feeling everyone’s eyes on me as I leave.

Goosebumps cover my skin under my clothes. I glance around the dark, the mysterious text still on my mind. But there’s no sign of anyone and then I’m inside, feeling a little less like I’m being watched. I don’t know the layout of the house, but after a second I hear a toilet flush. I wait in the kitchen.

Tara walks in and stops when she sees me.

“I really wasn’t trying to be a bitch,” she says.

“I know.”

“Sorry I came off strong. I don’t always notice I’m doing it until I’ve already done it.”

“It’s okay, Tara. I get it. I, um, there’s something else I wanted to ask you about.”

Her head tilts just slightly. “What’s up?”

I don’t want to beat around the bush, but coming straight out and just saying it feels wrong too.

“I found a picture,” I start. “An old one. It was from high school.”

She nods, waiting for me to continue.

“It was uh . . . from the closet. You know, the make-out closet.”

Her brows pull together but she still doesn’t say anything.

I sigh. “The picture was of you. But it was one of the pictures found on my dad’s work computer. I was just hoping you could tell me who took the picture.” I rush the words out quickly because I can see her starting to withdraw. When they’re out, she takes a step back like I’ve hit her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Which part?” I ask. We all know about the closet. We both know she’s been in it.

“Any of it. No one took a picture,” she says.

“Someone did. You were looking at the camera and smiling.”

Now she takes a step forward. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

“Excuse me?”

She takes another step and we’re face to face. I can smell the cider beer on her breath. “Watch. Your. Mouth. Grace. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It wasn’t my dad, was it? Who was it?”

“It was no one.”

“Why are you protecting them? It’s going to come out with the investigation that your picture was found. The cops will question you. Just tell me who took it.”

My head snaps back before I know what’s happened.

“Tara! What the fuck!” Geny shouts. She runs at her and shoves her back with two hands.

The pain hits and I hold a hand to my nose. My fingers come away with blood. Tara always could throw a punch.

“What the hell is going on?” Geny demands. She looks between the two of us.