“And you think that’s me?”
“And Annabel.”
Annabel…
“She was the other quiet one,” he muses.
Oh. There was a black-haired girl he called Anna. I vaguely remember her from one of my classes—Global Studies, not English. I think she suggested we read Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale. Someone mentioned how morbid that was, and Anna didn’t say a word. I should have told her I was excited to read it.
He gestures toward the doors, so I follow him out of the library. “I’ve always been interested in literature. I love reading it, talking about it, everything. You remind me of me.”
My brows raise as we walk side by side toward the spiral staircase that leads toward the front doors of the school. “Because we like books?”
He lets me go down the staircase first because of the narrow structure. “Because we like them more than reality. It’s easier to lose yourself in fiction, right?”
We stop at the end of the stairs. There’s noise coming from the high school gym down the hall—practice for some sport maybe. It helps lessen the awkwardness of standing here next to my English teacher while he waits for my response.
He smiles at me. “We all have something we want to escape from. That doesn’t mean some of us aren’t still in tune with reality even when it’s…”
“Shitty,” I murmur. My eyes widen over what I said, shooting up at his amused features. I’ve never sworn in front of a teacher. “I’m sorry, Mr. Nichols—”
He laughs. “School is over, Emery. I can’t hold you accountable for what you say. I also can’t say I agree with you.” Readjusting the strap of his bag, he tips his head and begins walking away. “Can’t say I disagree with you either.”
Waving goodbye, he tells me he’ll see me tomorrow and then leaves. I stand there for a minute before genuinely smiling. Gripping my bag and slipping it on my back, I turn to head to the side exit.
Kaiden told me he wouldn’t wait for me. I didn’t want to complain, so I just nodded. There’s a late bus that boards by the loading dock off the middle school wing at five. I can wait another thirty minutes.
After fifteen, I go outside and sit on the brick half wall. My legs dangle over and the sun hits my face mixed with a gentle breeze. There’s a book in my backpack I want to read, and I’m about to pull it out when a car pulls up.
Not just any car.
“Want to go to the sycamore?”
Kaiden.
I wet my lips. I should tell him no…
“Sure.”
I tell Kaiden about the song—our song. Mama’s, Logan’s, and mine. He stares at me blankly as I admit how many times I listen to it a day. It plays in my head on repeat, a tune that never ge
ts old.
He tells me it’s stupid. But his eyes tell an entirely different story. In the depths of their jaded tone, there’s an understanding.
What’s your song, Kaiden?
“She wasn’t just my sister.” My voice is quiet as I pick blades of grass out of the ground and examine them in my hand. “She was my twin, my other half.”
My better half, I don’t add.
Where she was outgoing and confident, I was an introvert and self-conscious. She loved to be part of everything while I watched from the sidelines. The only things we did together since we were little were cheer and dance, and that was only because she begged me to. I liked it … until I couldn’t do it anymore. Not just because I wasn’t physically able to, but because everything I did reminded me of her.
“Lo was better than me in every way.”
“Doubt that,” he murmurs.
I look over at him. He’s watching me, his gaze intent on studying my distant features. I want to believe that opening up to him will somehow make him reciprocate. He’s angry, I just don’t know at who.