Twin Mom Quotes

My eyelids flickered open again and focused on Daemon. He had his eyes closed as he leaned his head against the wall but I knew he was listening to everything. Dee talked about taking me home if my mom couldn’t leave. I was struck again by the twins. Daemon and Dee didn’t belong here, but I did. I could blend easily with the whitewashed walls and pale green curtains. I was as plain as the linoleum, but these two seemed to light the room with their flawless beauty and demanding presence. Ah, the medication was kicking in. I was poetic. And high. Bliss.

COOL·NESS [KOOL-NIS] -noun CATCHING your mom gazing at the crazy crowd like she finally gets it WATCHING your dad head-banging like he’s Finn’s twin brother LEARNING that your new friends Tash and Kallie are a thousand times more complicated than you realized, and loving them for it FEELING every one of your boyfriend’s pounding drumbeats, and thinking it’s the most romantic music ever written REALIZING you’re completely unique . . . even in a crowd

Mom has a massive sunflower for a soul so big there's hardly any room in her for organs. Jude and me have one soul between us that we have to share: a tree with its leaves on fire. And Dad has a plate of maggots for his.

Ty, I’ve thought so many times about what I would say to you if you reappeared suddenly. If I was walking along the street and you popped out of thin air, walking along beside me like you always used to, with your hands in your pockets and your head tilted back. Mom used to say you walked celestially, looking upat the sky as if you were scanning the clouds for angels. Do you remember that? In your world I am ashes, I am ancestors, my memories and hopes and dreams have gone to build the City of Bones. In your world, I am lucky, because I do not have to live in a world without you. But in this world, I am you. I am the twinless twin. So I can tell you this: When your twin leaves the earth you live on, it never turns the same way again: the weight of their soul is gone, and everything is off balance. The world rocks under your feet like an unquiet sea. I can’t tell you it gets easier. But it does get steadier; you learn how to live with the new rocking of the new earth, the way sailors gain sea legs. You learn. I promise. I know you’re not exactly the Ty I had in this world, my brilliant, beautiful brother. But I know from Julian that you are beautiful and brilliant too. I know that you are loved. I hope that you are happy. Please be happy. You deserve it so much. I want to ask if you remember the way we used to whisper words to each other in the dark: star, twin, glass. But I’ll never know your answer. So I’ll whisper to myself as I fold this letter up and slide it into the envelope, hoping against hope it will somehow reach you. I whisper your name, Ty. I whisper the most important thing: I love you. I love you. I love you. Livvy

Seriously, though, I know who my family is. Gid, Reed, and the twins are my brothers. Ella’s my sister. Callum’s my dad. Maria’s my mom. And you, you’re my heart.

And now that they have us here, under their control, they've dropped whatever act they had on earth. We're seeing them as they really are.' He dipped his glove into the water and watched as the water turned golden. The air suddenly smelled of citrus. 'Look! It's orange juice!' 'Josh, focus!' 'You sound just like Mom or Isis or whatever her name is.

Marlena and I were very different, but sometimes, when we were together, we could erase our separate histories just by talking, sharing a joke or a look. But in the kitchen with Mom, the kitchen that was always clean, where there was always something to eat, where the water flowed predictably from the tap and behind every cabinet door were dishes, only dishes, I saw how wrong I was to feel like Marlena and I had so much in common, and how lucky. Because here was the difference that mattered. My skinny mom with her Chardonnay smell and her forgetting to unplug the flat iron, with her corny jokes about broccoli farts and her teeth bared in anger and her cleaning gloves in the backseat of the car, my mom who refused to stop loving me, who made dumb mistakes and drank too much and was my twin in laughter, my mom who would never, ever, leave, who I trusted so profoundly that a world without her in it exceeded the limits of my imagination. That was the difference, and it was huge, and my never seeing it before is something that I still regret.

The Stain That Conner left on our lives will not vanish as easily. I don’t care about Mom and her birds. Their estimation of my brother doesn’t bother me at all. Neither do I worry about Dad and what his lobbyist buddies think. His political clout has not diminished. As twins go, Conner and I don’t share a deep affection, but we do have a nine-months-in-the-same-womb connection. Not to mention a crowd of mutual friends. God, I’ll never forget going to school the day after that ugly scene. The plan was to sever the gossip grapevine from the start with an obvious explanation— accident. Mom’s orders were clear. Conner’s reputation was to be protected at all costs. When I arrived, the rumors had already started, thanks to our neighbor, Bobby Duvall. Conner Sykes got hurt. Conner Sykes was shot. Conner Sykes is in the hospital. Is Conner Sykes, like, dead? I fielded every single question with the agreed fabrication. But eventually, I was forced to concede that, though his wounds would heal, he was not coming back to school right away. Conner Sykes wasn’t dead. But he wasn’t exactly “okay.

It wasn't my mom at all, it was her sister Margaret - they were twins, and when their faces were masked I could barely tell the difference. Margaret's voice was a little lighter, though, a little more...energetic. I figured it was because she'd never been married.

Maybe he’ll have an evil twin and we can live out one of my mom’s favorite telenovelas.” “Don’t they all have evil twins?” “We should have brought her

True dat. When I gots da Cronut itch? Mom-a-saurus pays our dog walker fiddy bones to get up crack-o’-dawn and represent on dat line to get one in my belly.

I was about to admit to the twins how much braver they were than me, when Gabe cut in quietly. “You never talk about your mom.” The twins watched me try to form a response. “It’s because I miss her. So every time I talk about her, I get sad.” As Gabe took my hand, Gracie stood, sending the last bits of funnel cake scattering onto the ground. “We’re your family now.

Here was what I wanted to happen when I walked through the door after my first real date and my first ever kiss. I wanted my mom to say, “Dear God, Meg, you’re glowing. Sit and tell me about this boy. He let you borrow his jacket? That’s so adorable.” Instead, I came off the high of that day by writing a letter to my dead brother and doing yoga between my twin beds, trying to forget my absent mother.

Then Toraf opens the passenger side door…Wait. That’s not Toraf. I’ve never seen this man before, yet he’s eerily familiar. His silhouette sitting next to Galen was definitely classic Syrena male, but the glare from the sun had hidden his face. I’d naturally just assumed that where there’s a Galen, there’s a Toraf. Now that his face is in full view though, I see that this man looks like a slightly older version of Galen. Slightly older as in slightly more jaded. Other than that, he could be his twin brother. It may be because he’s wearing some of Galen’s clothes, a wrinkled brown polo shirt and plaid shorts. But he shares other things, too, besides clothes. He’s handsome like Galen, with the same strong jaw and the same eyebrow shape and the way he’s wearing the same expression on his face that Galen is-that he’s found what he’s been looking for. Only, the stranger’s expression clearly divulges that he’s been looking for a lot longer than Galen has-and this man is not looking at me. And that’s when I know just exactly who he is. That’s when I believe the look in Galen’s eyes. That he didn’t lie to me, that he loves me. Because this man has to be Grom. Mom confirms it with a half cry, half growl. “No. No. It can’t be.” Even if she weren’t handcuffed to Rachel right now, I’m not sure she’d actually be able to move. Disbelief has a special way of paralyzing you. With every step the man takes toward Rachel’s car, he shakes his head more vigorously. It’s like he’s deliberately taking his time, drinking in the moment, or maybe he just can’t believe this moment is actually happening. Yep, disbelief is a cruel hag.

Krishna would continue. He would teach Mom that grasping and aversion are twins: They are mirror images of each other. They both involve a rejection of how it is in this moment. The grasping mind says, “I long for that

She scoots over so we're shoulder to shoulder. This is us. Our pose. The smush. It's even how we are in the ultrasound photo they took of us inside Mom and how I had us in the picture Fry ripped up yesterday. Unlike most everyone else on earth, from the very first cells of us, we were together, we came here together. This is why no one hardly notices that Jude does most of the talking for the both of us, why we can only play piano with all four hands on the keyboard and not all alone, why we can never do Rochambeau because not once in thirteen years have we chose differently. It's always: two rocks, two papers, two scissors. When I don't draw us like this, I draw us as half-people.

and drew her strength directly from our magickal Oklahoma earth. “U-we-tsi-a-ge-ya, it seems I need help at the lavender booth. I simply cannot believe how busy we are.” Grandma had barely spoken when a nun hurried up. “Zoey, Sister Mary Angela could use your help filling out cat adoption forms.” “I’ll help you, Grandma Redbird,” Shaylin said. “I love the smell of lavender.” “Oh, honey, that would be so sweet of you. First, could you run to my car and get into the trunk. There is another box of lavender soaps and sachets tucked back there. Looks like I’m going to sell out completely,” Grandma said happily. “Sure thing.” Shaylin caught the keys Grandma tossed to her and hurried toward the main exit of the school grounds which led to the parking lot, as well as the tree-lined road that joined Utica Street. “And I’ll call my momma. She said just let her know if we get too busy over here. She and the PTA moms will be back here in a sec,” said Stevie Rae. “Grandma, do you mind if I give Street Cats a hand? I’ve been dying to check out their new litter of kittens.” “Go on, u-we-tsi-a-ge-ya. I think Sister Mary Angela has been missing your company.” “Thanks, Grandma.” I smiled at her. Then I turned to Stevie Rae. “Okay, if your mom’s group is coming back, I’m gonna go help the nuns.” “Yeah, no problem.” Stevie Rae, shielding her eyes and peering through the crowd, added, “I see her now, and she’s got Mrs. Rowland and Mrs. Wilson with her.” “Don’t worry. We can handle this,” Shaunee said. “’Kay,” I said, grinning at both of them. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I left the cookie booth and noticed Aphrodite, clutching her big purple Queenies cup, was right on my heels. “I thought you didn’t want a lecture from the nuns.” “Better than a lecture from PTA moms.” She shuddered. “Plus, I like cats more than people.” I shrugged. “Okay, whatever.” We’d only gotten partway to the Street Cats tent when Aphrodite slowed way down. “Seriously. Effing. Pathetic.” She was muttering around her straw, narrowing her eyes, and glaring. I followed her gaze and joined her frown. “Yeah, no matter how many times I see them together, I still don’t get it.” Aphrodite and I had stopped to watch Shaunee’s ex-Twin BFF, Erin, hang all over Dallas. “I really thought she was better than that.” “Apparently not,” Aphrodite said. “Eeew,” I said, looking away from their way too public display of locked lips. “I’m telling you, there’s not enough booze in Tulsa to make watching those two suck face okay.” She made a gagging sound, which changed to a snort and a laugh. “Check out the wimple, twelve o’clock.” Sure enough, there was a nun I vaguely recognized as Sister Emily (one of the more uptight of the nuns) descending on the too-busy-with-their-tongues-to-notice couple. “She looks serious,” I said. “You know, a nun may very well be the direct opposite of an aphrodisiac. This should be entertaining. Let’s watch.” “Zoey! Over here!” I looked from the train wreck about to happen to see Sister Mary Angela waving me over to her.

Hey!” “What is it, Eggers?” Dad walks out of the kitchen in his windbreaker and running shorts and looks up the stairs. “Do I have to walk around with Church and Sully for Halloween this year?” Dad frowns. “Church and Sully are doing Halloween this year? Are they too old for that yet?” He asks it honestly, because he really doesn’t remember. He knows they’re in the same grade, and that they’re under fourteen because they play on all U-14 sports teams, but anything beyond that is details. Sully is fourteen, Church is thirteen; born elevenmonths apart exactly, and most people think they’re twins. “They’re kind of too old for it, yeah,” I say. “Oh. Well, ask your mom.” “Is she home right now?” “No, she took Davy for her quick 10K with her marathon students.” “What? Davy can’t run a 10K!” He holds his hands up in surrender. “They’re jogging, and the slow students always take care of him anyway. He’s fine.

I thought of Atargatis, the First, frightening and beautiful. The mermaid goddess who lived on in the soul of every woman who'd ever fallen in love with the ocean. I thought of Sebastian, my little mermaid queen, how happy he was the day of the parade, just getting the chance to express himself, to be himself. I thought of Vanessa, the story about how she and her girlfriends became feminist killjoys to get a women's literature core in their school, the way she'd accepted me this summer without question, gently pushed me out of my self-imposed shell. Of her mother, Mrs. James, how she'd grabbed that bullhorn at the parade and paved the way for Sebastian's joy. I thought of Lemon, so wise, so comfortable in her own skin, full of enough love to raise a daughter as a single mom and still have room for me, for her friends, for everyone whose lives she touched with her art. I thought of Kirby, her fierce loyalty, her patience and grace, her energy, what a good friend and sister she'd become, even when I'd tried to shut her out. I thought of all the new things I wanted to share with her now, all the things I hoped she'd share with me. I thought of my mother, a woman I'd never known, but one whose ultimate sacrifice gave me life. I thought of Granna, stepping in to raise her six granddaughters when my mom died, never once making us feel like a burden or a curse. She'd managed the cocoa estate with her son, personally saw to the comforts of every resort guest, and still had time to tell us bedtime stories, always reminding us how much she treasured us. I thought of my sisters. Juliette, Martine, and Hazel, their adventures to faraway lands, new experiences. Gabrielle with her island-hopping, her ultimate choice to follow her heart home. And Natalie, my twin. My mirror image, my dream sharer. I knew I hadn't been fair to her this summer—she'd saved my life, done the best she could. And I wanted to thank her for that, because as long as it had taken me to realize it, I was thankful. Thankful for her. Thankful to be alive. To breathe.

Oskar Schell: My father died at 9-11. After he died I wouldn't go into his room for a year because it was too hard and it made me want to cry. But one day, I put on heavy boots and went in his room anyway. I miss doing taekwondo with him because it always made me laugh. When I went into his closet, where his clothes and stuff were, I reached up to get his old camera. It spun around and dropped about a hundred stairs, and I broke a blue vase! Inside was a key in an envelope with black written on it and I knew that dad left something somewhere for me that the key opened and I had to find. So I take it to Walt, the locksmith. I give it to Stan, the doorman, who tells me keys can open anything. He gave me the phone book for all the five boroughs. I count there are 472 people with the last name black. There are 216 addresses. Some of the blacks live together, obviously. I calculated that if I go to 2 every Saturday plus holidays, minus my hamlet school plays, my minerals, coins, and comic convention, it's going to take me 3 years to go through all of them. But that's what I'm going to do! Go to every single person named black and find out what the key fits and see what dad needed me to find. I made the very best possible plan but using the last four digits of each phone number, I divide the people by zones. I had to tell my mother another lie, because she wouldn't understand how I need to go out and find what the key fits and help me make sense of things that don't even make sense like him being killed in the building by people that didn't even know him at all! And I see some people who don't speak English, who are hiding, one black said that she spoke to God. If she spoke to god how come she didn't tell him not to kill her son or not to let people fly planes into buildings and maybe she spoke to a different god than them! And I met a man who was a woman who a man who was a woman all at the same time and he didn't want to get hurt because he/she was scared that she/he was so different. And I still wonder if she/he ever beat up himself, but what does it matter? Thomas Schell: What would this place be if everyone had the same haircut? Oskar Schell: And I see Mr. Black who hasn't heard a sound in 24 years which I can understand because I miss dad's voice that much. Like when he would say, "are you up yet?" or... Thomas Schell: Let's go do something. Oskar Schell: And I see the twin brothers who paint together and there's a shed that has to be clue, but it's just a shed! Another black drew the same drawing of the same person over and over and over again! Forest black, the doorman, was a school teacher in Russia but now says his brain is dying! Seamus black who has a coin collection, but doesn't have enough money to eat everyday! You see olive black was a gate guard but didn't have the key to it which makes him feel like he's looking at a brick wall. And I feel like I'm looking at a brick wall because I tried the key in 148 different places, but the key didn't fit. And open anything it hasn't that dad needed me to find so I know that without him everything is going to be alright. Thomas Schell: Let's leave it there then. Oskar Schell: And I still feel scared every time I go into a strange place. I'm so scared I have to hold myself around my waist or I think I'll just break all apart! But I never forget what I heard him tell mom about the sixth borough. That if things were easy to find... Thomas Schell: ...they wouldn't be worth finding. Oskar Schell: And I'm so scared every time I leave home. Every time I hear a door open. And I don't know a single thing that I didn't know when I started! It's these times I miss my dad more than ever even if this whole thing is to stop missing him at all! It hurts too much. Sometimes I'm afraid I'll do something very bad.

My first impression of him was that he was free spirited, clever, funny. That proved to be completely inaccurate. We left the party together and walked around for hours, lied to each other about our happy lives, ate pizza at midnight, took the Staten Island Ferry back and forth and watched the sun rise. I gave him my phone number at the dorm. By the time he finally called me, two weeks later, I’d become obsessed with him. He kept me on a long, tight leash for months—expensive meals, the occasional opera or ballet. He took my virginity at a ski lodge in Vermont on Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t a pleasurable experience, but I trusted he knew more about sex than I did, so when he rolled off and said, “That was amazing,” I believed him. He was thirty-three, worked for Fuji Bank at the World Trade Center, wore tailored suits, sent cars to pick me up at my dorm, then the sorority house sophomore year, wined and dined me, and asked for head with no shame in the back of cabs he charged to the company account. I took this as proof of his masculine value. My “sisters” all agreed; he was “suave.” And I was impressed by how much he liked talking about his emotions, something I’d never seen a man do. “My mom’s a pothead now, and that’s why I have this deep sadness.” He took frequent trips to Tokyo for work and to San Francisco to visit his twin sister. I suspected she discouraged him from dating me.

It's a shame your mother didn't opt for something more extravagant," Akiko says, examining her nails. "When you get married, please make sure there are at least some guests to see our dresses. This is a waste of Oscar de la Renta," Noriko adds, glancing down meaningfully. "Thank you," I say sincerely. "For all you did for us. For my mom. For me." I regard them intently, liquid gathering in my eyes. "It's not a big deal," Akiko says with a sniff, clearly uncomfortable. Human emotions. So messy. "Um," Noriko says to Akiko. "I think she's going to try to hug us." Before they can object, I wrap them up in my arms, embracing them both. Akiko pats my back awkwardly, and Noriko is stiff. "I love you," I say, releasing them. "And I know you love me, too.

Alexis and I got dressed in changing rooms next to each other and were chatting through the openings at the top of the dividers. “Wait till you see my new suit!” she said. “It’s so cute!” “Me too! My mom brought it home as a surprise!” We came out and took one look at each other and started laughing our heads off. We had on the exact same bathing suit! They were tankinis, navy blue with white piping and a cool yellow lightning bolt down either side. Alexis is kind of muscular from soccer, and I’m kind of thin (I play the flute, and that doesn’t exactly build muscles!) so the suit fit us way differently. We couldn’t stop giggling though. We looked like total dork twins! I knew right then this summer was going to be silly, superfun, and totally awesome.

Come on,” I hooked my arm through Aphrodite’s and started to pull her to the Street Cats tent. “You haven’t been good enough to watch.” Before Aphrodite could argue, we were at the Street Cats booth, facing a beaming Sister Mary Angela. “Oh, good, Zoey and Aphrodite. I need the both of you.” The nun made a gracious gesture to the young family standing beside one of the kitten cages. “This is the Cronley family. They have decided to adopt both of the calico kittens. It’s so lovely that the two of them have found their forever homes together—they are unusually close, even for littermates.” “That’s great,” I said. “I’ll start on their paperwork.” “I’ll help you. Two cats—two sets of paperwork,” Aphrodite said. “We came with a note from our veterinarian,” the mom said. “I just knew we’d find our kitten tonight.” “Even though we didn’t expect to find two of them,” her husband added. He squeezed his wife’s shoulder and smiled down at her with obvious affection. “Well, we didn’t expect the twins, either,” his wife said, glancing over at the two girls who were still looking in the kitten cage and giggling at the fluffy calicos that would be joining their family. “That surprise turned out great, which is why I think the two kittens will be perfect as well,” said the dad. Like seeing Lenobia and Travis together—this family made my heart feel good. I had started to move to the makeshift desk with Aphrodite when one of the little girls asked, “Hey mommy, what are those black things?” Something in the child’s voice had me pausing, changing direction, and heading to the kitten cage. When I got there I instantly knew why. Within the cage the two calico kittens were hissing and batting at several large, black spiders. “Oh, yuck!” the mom said. “Looks like your school might have a spider problem.” “I know a good exterminator if you need a recommendation,” the dad said. “We’re gonna need a shit ton more than a good exterminator,” Aphrodite whispered as we stared into the kitten cage. “Yeah, uh, well, we don’t usually have bug issues here,” I babbled as disgust shivered up my back. “Eesh, Daddy! There are lots more of them.” The little blond girl was pointing at the back of the cage. It was so completely covered with spiders that it seemed to be alive with their seething movements. “Oh, my goodness!” Sister Mary Angela looked pale as she stared at the spiders that appeared to be multiplying. “Those things weren’t there moments ago.” “Sister, why don’t you take this nice family into the tent and get their paperwork started,” I said quickly, meeting the nun’s sharp gaze with my own steady one. “And send Damien out here to me. I can use his help to take care of this silly spider problem.” “Yes, yes, of course.” The nun didn’t hesitate. “Get Shaunee, Shaylin, and Stevie Rae,” I told Aphrodite, keeping my voice low. “You’re going to cast a circle in front of all of these

I thought we were meeting by the field house,” I call out as I make my way over. He doesn’t even turn around. “Nah, I’m pretty sure I said the parking lot.” “You definitely said the field house,” I argue. Why can’t he ever just admit that he’s wrong? “Geez, field house, parking lot. What difference does it make?” Mason asks. “Give it a rest, why don’t you.” I shoot him a glare. “Oh, hey, Mason. Remember when your hair was long and everyone thought you were a girl?” Ryder chuckles as he releases a perfect spiral in Mason’s direction. “She’s got you there.” “Hey, whose side are you on, anyway?” Mason catches the ball and cradles it against his chest, then launches it toward Ben. I just stand there watching as they continue to toss it back and forth between the three of them. Haven’t they had enough football for one day? I pull out my cell to check the time. “We should probably get going.” “I guess,” Ryder says with an exaggerated sigh, like I’m putting him out or something. Which is particularly annoying since he’s the one who insisted on going with me. Ben jogs up beside me, the football tucked beneath his arm. “Where are you two off to? Whoa, you’re sweaty.” I fold my arms across my damp chest. “Hey, southern girls don’t sweat. We glow.” Ben snorts at that. “Says who?” “Says Ryder’s mom,” I say with a grin. It’s one of Laura Grace’s favorite sayings--one that always makes Ryder wince. “The hardware store,” Ryder answers, snatching the ball back from Ben. “Gotta pick up some things for the storm--sandbags and stuff like that. Y’all want to come?” “Nah, I think I’ll pass.” Mason wrinkles his nose. “Pretty sure I don’t want to be cooped up in the truck with Jemma glowing like she is right now.” “Everybody thought you and Morgan were identical twin girls,” I say with a smirk. “Remember, Mason? Isn’t that just so cute?” “I’ll go,” Ben chimes in. “If you’re getting sandbags, you’ll need some help carrying them out to the truck.” “Thanks, Ben. See, someone’s a gentleman.” “Don’t look now, Ryder, but your one-woman fan club is over there.” Mason tips his head toward the school building in the distance. “I think she’s scented you out. Quick. You better run.” I glance over my shoulder to find Rosie standing on the sidewalk by the building’s double doors, looking around hopefully. “Hey!” Mason calls out, waving both arms above his head. “He’s over here.” Ryder’s cheeks turn beet-red. He just stares at the ground, his jaw working furiously. “C’mon, man,” Ben says, throwing an elbow into Mason’s side. “Don’t be a dick.” He grabs the football and heads toward Ryder’s Durango. “We better get going. The hardware store probably closes at six.” Silently, Ryder and I hurry after him and hop inside the truck--Ben up front, me in the backseat. We don’t look back to see if Rosie’s following.

We end up at an outdoor paintball course in Jersey. A woodsy, rural kind of place that’s probably brimming with mosquitos and Lyme disease. When I find out Logan has never played paintball before, I sign us both up. There’s really no other option. And our timing is perfect—they’re just about to start a new battle. The worker gathers all the players in a field and divides us into two teams, handing out thin blue and yellow vests to distinguish friend from foe. Since Logan and I are the oldest players, we both become the team captains. The wide-eyed little faces of Logan’s squad follow him as he marches back and forth in front of them, lecturing like a hot, modern-day Winston Churchill. “We’ll fight them from the hills, we’ll fight them in the trees. We’ll hunker down in the river and take them out, sniper-style. Save your ammo—fire only when you see the whites of their eyes. Use your heads.” I turn to my own ragtag crew. “Use your hearts. We’ll give them everything we’ve got—leave it all on the field. You know what wins battles? Desire! Guts! Today, we’ll all be frigging Rudy!” A blond boy whispers to his friend, “Who’s Rudy?” The kid shrugs. And another raises his hand. “Can we start now? It’s my birthday and I really want to have cake.” “It’s my birthday too.” I give him a high-five. “Twinning!” I raise my gun. “And yes, birthday cake will be our spoils of war! Here’s how it’s gonna go.” I point to the giant on the other side of the field. “You see him, the big guy? We converge on him first. Work together to take him down. Cut off the head,” I slice my finger across my neck like I’m beheading myself, “and the old dog dies.” A skinny kid in glasses makes a grossed-out face. “Why would you kill a dog? Why would you cut its head off?” And a little girl in braids squeaks, “Mommy! Mommy, I don’t want to play anymore.” “No,” I try, “that’s not what I—” But she’s already running into her mom’s arms. The woman picks her up—glaring at me like I’m a demon—and carries her away. “Darn.” Then a soft voice whispers right against my ear. “They’re already going AWOL on you, lass? You’re fucked.” I turn to face the bold, tough Wessconian . . . and he’s so close, I can feel the heat from his hard body, see the small sprigs of stubble on that perfect, gorgeous jaw. My brain stutters, but I find the resolve to tease him. “Dear God, Logan, are you smiling? Careful—you might pull a muscle in your face.” And then Logan does something that melts my insides and turns my knees to quivery goo. He laughs. And it’s beautiful. It’s a crime he doesn’t do it more often. Or maybe a blessing. Because Logan St. James is a sexy, stunning man on any given day. But when he laughs? He’s heart-stopping. He swaggers confidently back to his side and I sneer at his retreating form. The uniformed paintball worker blows a whistle and explains the rules. We get seven minutes to hide first. I cock my paintball shotgun with one hand—like Charlize Theron in Fury fucking Road—and lead my team into the wilderness. “Come on, children. Let’s go be heroes.” It was a massacre. We never stood a chance. In the end, we tried to rush them—overpower them—but we just ended up running into a hail of balls, getting our hearts and guts splattered with blue paint. But we tried—I think Rudy and Charlize would be proud

I worry about you too,” I said softly as I caressed her head resting against my chest. “You look tired.” Lark didn’t speak for a minute. When she finally looked at me, I saw a lot of different emotions swirling in those bright green eyes. “I feel like shit. I’m tired and dizzy. I can’t eat ninety percent of the food I used to eat. I feel awful, but I’m afraid to complain.” “Why?” “Maddy just had her baby and she was so tough about the whole thing. I’m surprised she didn’t give birth in the middle of the grocery store then go back to picking up things for dinner. Next to her, I’m a weakling. Also, Farah is going to be all brave and awesome too. I don’t want to be the whiner.” “First of all, Maddy’s got that natural breeder look about her. Some chicks are like that and you can’t let the exception be your rule. Besides, you’re having twins. You have more baby cooking to do than she did, so screw comparisons.” “I just don’t want people to think less of me.” “By people, do you mean Aaron?” “We barely met and got married and now I’m getting fat and I’m tired all the time. I don’t want him to lose interest.” “Oh, Lark, you’re so fucking stupid sometimes.” “Yeah, I know,” she said, grinning. “We have that in common.” “So true.” “Mom said that I’m like her and she had a guy like Aaron and she suffocated him and he ditched her. I know Mom sucks, but what if she’s right and I wear down Aaron and he stops loving me?” “Any man who would want Mom must be shit. Aaron isn’t shit.” “I know, but I get scared of messing up everything I have.” Kissing her forehead, I stood up and walked to the bedroom door. “Hey, Mister Clean, get over here.” Laughing, Lark followed me into the hallway where Aaron appeared, clearly loving his new nickname. “Listen up, Yul Brynner,” I said, sending Lark into giggles. “My sister is cooking up two kids that you stuck inside her. She needs more damn love than you’re giving. If you don’t do a better job of babying her, I’m going to have to replace you. Hmm, I just saw this guy Jake that I knew from high school. He’s ripped and works at the gym. The gym, Aaron.” My brother-in-law stared unaffected until I finished then he gazed down at his wife. Lark must have known what was coming because she started giggling. “My sweet muse,” he murmured and she laughed harder, “do you need more love than I’m giving?” Aaron swept Lark into his arms and cradled her like a kid. “Poor thing. I’ll just need to pay more attention.” As he kissed all over her, Lark stopped giggling and began moaning affirmations. “Good thing you obeyed because I think Jake might be gay.” After giving me a wink, Aaron gestured for me to go away. I was the one to obey this time. Leaving them to cuddle and more in the bedroom, I watched television and finished the popcorn. Professor joined me, but Pollack was wary. I think it was because I was always barking at her. In my defense, she started it.

With four kids under the age of nine, two of them twins, she lives by the motto: All of my kids are still breathing. Award, please.

My mom almost had a nervous breakdown when I told her that I’d gotten someone pregnant and with twins at that but she accepted it.

I'm pretty sure my mom would have remembered giving birth to twins and then losing one somewhere along the way. When

We’ll go with her,” Olivia said, squeezing Sophie’s hand. “Of course we will.” “Oh, no you won’t.” Baird walked into the room, frowning and Sophie wondered if Sylvan had called him. Liv opened her mouth to protest but he shook his head. “You’re expecting Lilenta. You can’t go.” “Baird is right,” Sylvan said quietly. “Your can’t go through folded space while you’re pregnant. The effects on the fetus are…bad. Very bad.” He shook his head. “Well then, I’ll go,” Sophia said. “Sylvan and I have only been together three and a half weeks so—” “Three and a half weeks in which we’ve been making love every spare minute, Talana,” Sylvan reminded her in a low voice. “How can you be sure you’re not with child as well?” “I could take a test,” Sophie said weakly but he shook his head. “It wouldn’t be conclusive—not at this stage. But if you wish to take the risk…” It was on the tip of her tongue to say that of course she would take the risk but Sophie looked in his eyes and saw the sadness there. Though he hadn’t spoken of it, she knew he yearned for what Baird and Liv had, knew how he wanted a son of his own. And her period was late. It might be a false alarm and she kind of hoped it was—she wasn’t sure if she was ready to be a mom just yet. But if it wasn’t… “Sophia,” Baird said softly, looking at her. “Kat risked her life to save you. I don’t think she’d want you to lose a child just to go with her.” Sophie bit her lip. “But to send her all by herself, alone and unprotected to an entirely different planet—” “She won’t be alone,” Lock said in a low voice. “And she won’t be unprotected.” Deep’s black eyes flashed. “Kat may hate me,” he said, speaking to Liv and Sophie both. “But I swear to you now, I will protect her with my life. Lock and I will die before we see her come to harm.” “Deep speaks for us both,” Lock said quietly. “The lady Kat will come to no harm while she is in our care. This we both swear, on our honor as Kindred warriors.” Sophie looked at the two huge males, one kneeling beside Kat and the other standing protectively over her. And suddenly she knew she could trust them. “Liv,” she said softly, turning to her twin. “They mean it—they really do.” Liv sighed. “I know,” she whispered, wiping away a tear.

What’s up, Sam?” “What birthday?” he panted. “What?” “What birthday, Anna?” It took a while for her to absorb his fear. It took a while for the reason for his fear to dawn on her. “Fifteen,” Anna said in a whisper. “What’s the matter?” Emma asked, sensing her twin’s mood. “It doesn’t mean anything.” “It doesn’t,” Anna whispered. “You’re probably right,” Sam said. “Oh, my God,” Anna said. “Are we going to disappear?” “When were you born?” Sam asked. “What time of day?” The twins exchanged scared looks. “We don’t know.” “You know what, no one has blinked out since that first day, so it’s probably—” Emma disappeared. Anna screamed. The other older kids took notice, the littles, too. “Oh, my God!” Anna cried. “Emma. Emma. Oh, God!” She grabbed Sam’s hands and he held her tight. The prees, some of them, caught the fear. Mother Mary came over. “What’s going on? You’re scaring the kids. Where’s Emma?” Anna just kept saying, “Oh, my God,” and calling her sister’s name. “Where’s Emma?” Mary demanded again. “What’s going on?” Sam didn’t want to explain. Anna was hurting him with the pressure of her fingers digging into the backs of his hands. Anna’s eyes were huge, staring holes in him. “How far apart were you born?” Sam asked. Anna just stared in blank horror. Sam lowered his voice to an urgent whisper. “How far apart were you born, Anna?” “Six minutes,” she whispered. “Hold my hands, Sam,” she said. “Don’t let me go, Sam,” she said. “I won’t, Anna, I won’t let you go,” Sam said. “What’s going to happen, Sam?” “I don’t know, Anna.” “Will we go to where our mom and dad are?” “I don’t know, Anna." “Am I going to die?” “No, Anna. You’re not going to die.” “Don’t let go of me, Sam.” Mary was there now, a baby on her hip. John was there. The prees, some of them, watched with serious, worried looks on their faces. “I don’t want to die,” Anna repeated. “I…I don’t know what it’s like.” “It’s okay, Anna.” Anna smiled. “That was a nice date. When we went out.” “It was.” For a split second it was like Anna blurred. Too fast to be real. She blurred, and Sam could almost swear that she had smiled at him. And his fingers squeezed on nothing. For a terribly long time no one moved or said anything. The littles didn’t cry out. The older kids just stared. Sam’s fingertips still remembered the feel of Anna’s hands. He stared at the place where her face had been. He could still see her pleading eyes. Unable to stop himself, he reached a hand into the space she had occupied. Reaching for a face that was no longer there. Someone sobbed. Someone cried out, other voices then, the prees started crying. Sam felt sick. When his teacher had disappeared he hadn’t been expecting it. This time he had seen it coming, like a monster in a slow-motion nightmare. This time he had seen it coming, like standing rooted on the railroad tracks, unable to jump aside.

From Jason Parker—I came back after nine years because I couldn’t outrun the pain. Prom night. A car wreck. My twin brother gone. Our music gone with him. Except not. I’ve got platinum behind me, and what does it mean? Nothing without the folks I love. Less than nothing without Lila Sullivan. She’s always been the one, the only one for me. Bless Bart Quinn for lending me Sea View House. My daughter was conceived there a long time ago. But I didn’t know anything about her all those years. Folks might call Katie The Daughter He Never Knew, and they’d be right. But I know her now. As for her mom and me…? Sea View House came through for us again. Our wedding took place right there. I believe in the magic. I believe in happily ever after. If that’s not love, what is?

Women are a treasure. A gift. What do you do with treasure?” “Hoard it?” I’d asked, being a snarky fifteen-year-old. Mom had smacked me on the arm, but she was smiling. “No, Smaug. You protect it. You guard it. You always remember its value.

When we were little,” I said, louder, “people used to mistake the two of us for twins. At least, that’s what my mom tells me. Ask me, I never saw it. For one thing, I’m obviously a lot better-looking than he is. But enough about that, I don’t want him crying on his special day.

We’ll never make it three months. Do you have any of the details worked out?” “Well,” she said. “Sure. Some.” He leaned toward her and smiled pleasantly. “Care to share?” “What would you like to know?” “Well, there’s nothing to suggest we have a high-risk pregnancy, but it’s pretty common for the mothers of twins to go on bed rest for a while to delay labor while they grow and get stronger. And when babies come, it’s often early and fast. And taking care of them as newborns is pretty demanding. Also, you have a financial situation that’s giving you some stress. And—” “Okay, okay,” she said. “Sheesh. I’m not too worried about bed rest, I’m in good health and I have Vanni and Mel. John Stone is watching real close for early and fast. My mom will come as soon as they arrive and—” “So will mine,” he said, and she actually grabbed her belly. “What?” “Oh yeah. We can hold her off for a week, maybe, but these are her grandchildren and she’s never missed a grandchild’s debut.” “Have you told her?” she asked, aghast. “Not yet,” he said, twirling a little spaghetti around his fork. “But I have to do that. It’s going to be hard enough to explain not telling her sooner and making sure she had a chance to meet you. They’re not just our children, Ab. They have grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins…et cetera…on my side of this family as well as yours.” “Oh God,” she said, dropping her fork. “I don’t feel so good.” He just laughed lightly. “Relax. Nothing to worry about. They’re fantastic people and you’ll be real happy to have them in your life, I guarantee it.” “But won’t they think… I mean, we’re not married and—” He shrugged, got up and fetched himself a beer from the old refrigerator, using the underside of his heavy class ring to pop the top. “I’m sure they’ve heard of things like this before. A man and woman, not married, having children. But telling my family is just one item on this list. Abby, the list is long. We have so many things to work through before you go into labor. And not all that much time to do it.” She

She lives here now, Mom. With me. And it won’t be long before you can meet her, but there’s one more thing. During that short time we knew each other in Grants Pass, we had a little…ah, a little…blessing, that’s what it was. We had a blessing. Well, actually a couple of blessings. On the way. Soon.” Dead silence answered him. “It came as a shock to poor Abby at first, and I admit—I was pretty surprised, but we’re very happy about it. Happy and excited.” Silence. It stretched out. “Mom? Twins. We know one is a boy, but the other one is hiding.” Again, a vacuum. Then he heard his mother shriek, “Edward! Come here! Cameron got some girl pregnant!” “Mom! Just have a little sip of that wine!” “I think it’s going to take something a little stronger! Twins? You got some girl pregnant with twins?” He couldn’t help it—he laughed. “Mom,” he said. “She’s not some girl—she’s not a girl. Her name is Abby and she’s thirty-one.” “Cameron, how in the world—” “Now, Mother, I’m not going to explain. You’ll just have to trust me, I’ve never been careless and neither has Abby. So—here’s the deal. She’s probably going to go early, though the babies are due the second of July. Anytime, Mom. Abby wants to have her mother come as soon as they’re delivered, so I hope you can be a little patient. Twins is a pretty big—” “Cameron! Are you married?” “Not yet, Mom. Even though we’re in this together, completely, we just haven’t had time to get married. That will come—we’ll take care of the details. No point in rushing it now. Besides, we’re not going to be fooling anybody, including the great-grandmothers and great-aunt Jean, by rushing into it right now. They’re nearly here.” “Dear God in heaven,” his mother said. And in the background he could hear his father, Ed, saying, “What? What? What?” “I’ll call you the moment they’re born. Tomorrow, when I’m at the clinic, I’ll get Mel to take a picture of me and Abby and e-mail it to you. By then you will have calmed down.” “But, Cameron,” she said, “you haven’t given me time to knit anything!” He laughed again. “Well, get started. Abby’s really ready to unload. She just has to make it a couple more weeks to be completely safe.” “Oh, dear God in heaven,” she muttered.

Instant Access “When my twins were born, I moved abruptly from being a professional career woman to a full-time, stay-at-home mom. The role shift opened a new door of commonality which surprised and delighted me. I was instantly welcomed into a special “Motherhood Club,” where before I never would have related. It felt as if I was suddenly bonded with mothers worldwide. It's important to remember—nothing stays the same, nor do we.

Well, I know you don’t want to talk about it anymore, but I signed you up for that computer match thingy.” Why is it that so many people over the age of sixty refer to everything on the Internet as some sort of “computer thing”? Helen was trying to contain her laughter. “Laura, do you mean Match.com?” My father was groaning audibly now. “Yes, that’s it. Charles helped me put up her profile.” “Oh my god, Mother. Are you kidding me?” Helen jumped out of her seat and started running toward the computer in my dad’s home office, which was right off the dining room. “Get out of there, Helen,” my dad yelled, but she ignored him. I chased after her, but she stuck her arm out, blocking me from the monitor. “No, I have to see it!” she shouted. “Stop it, girls,” my mother chided. “Move, bitch.” We were very mature for our age. “This is the best day of my life. Your mommy made a Match profile for you!” “Actually, Chuck made it,” my mother yelled from across the hall. Oh shit. Helen typed my name in quickly. My prom picture from nine years ago popped up on the screen. My brother had cropped Steve Dilbeck out of the photo the best he could, but you could still see Steve’s arms wrapped around my purple chiffon–clad waist. “You’re joking. You’re fucking joking.” “Language, Charlotte!” my dad yelled. “Mom,” I cried, “he used my prom photo! What is wrong with him?” I still had braces at eighteen. I had to wear them for seven years because my orthodontist said I had the worst teeth he had ever seen. You know how sharks have rows of teeth? Yeah, that was me. I blame my mother and the extended breastfeeding for that one, too. My brother, Chuck the Fuck, used to tease me, saying it was leftovers of the dead Siamese twin I had absorbed in utero. My brother’s an ass, so it’s pretty awesome that he set up this handy dating profile for me. In case you hadn’t noticed, our names are Charlotte and Charles. Just more parental torture. Would it be dramatic to call that child abuse? Underneath my prom photo, I read the profile details while Helen laughed so hard she couldn’t breath. My name is Charlotte and I am an average twenty-seven year-old. If you looked up the word mediocre in the dictionary you would see a picture of me—more recent than this nine-year-old photo, of course, because at least back then I hadn’t inked my face like an imbecile. Did I forget to mention that I have a tiny star tattooed under my left eye? Yes, I’d been drunk at the time. It was a momentary lapse of judgment. It would actually be cute if it was a little bigger, but it’s so small that most people think it’s a piece of food or a freckle. I cover it up with makeup. I like junk food and watching reality TV. My best friend and I like to drink Champagne because it makes us feel sophisticated, then we like to have a farting contest afterward. I’ve had twelve boyfriends in the last five years so I’m looking for a lifer. It’s not a coincidence that I used the same term as the one for prisoners ineligible for parole. “Chuck the Fuck,” Helen squeaked through giggles. I turned and glared at her. “He still doesn’t know that you watched him jerk off like a pedophile when he was fourteen.” “He’s only three years younger than us.” “Four. And I will tell him. I’ll unleash Chuck the Fuck on you if you don’t quit.” My breasts are small and my butt is big and I have a moderately hairy upper lip. I also don’t floss, clean my retainer, or use mouthwash with any regularity. “God, my brother is so obsessed with oral hygiene!” “That’s what stood out to you? He said you have a mustache.” Helen grinned. “Girls, get out of there and come clear the table,” my dad yelled. “What do you think the password is?” “Try ‘Fatbutt,’ ” I said. “Yep, that worked. Okay, I’ll change your profile while you clear the table.

Mom always said that you couldn’t feel your own fever, but for once, her advice was wrong. I clearly had a fever.

So are you two officially dating? Out in public and everything?” “We announced it by showing up to school today holding hands.” “I bet that went over like a fart in church.” Mom laughed.

Later, Mom found the pictures of Mimi. We compared pictures of Mimi at twelve to pictures of me at twelve. We could have been twins. That night, I slept with one of the pictures of Mimi under my pillow.

Casey,” Ali’s dad said. “Thank you, I will!” I said, eagerly reaching for another. Ali smiled. “This is nice.” “It is nice,” her Dad repeated. “Mom would have loved having you over,” Ali said to me. “She loved when we took seconds,” Ali’s dad said. “Yes, she did!” Ali agreed. I watched for Ali’s reaction to the comments about her mom. She appeared to be okay for the moment. Maybe my sudden arrival at her bedroom door really had helped her to open up. It was so good to see her smiling face again. And perhaps I could encourage her to share more happy stories about her mother. That might even bring me closer to both her and her dad. If that helped them to feel better about staying, then I would be overjoyed.

our mom

Sometimes family isn’t made up of who you’re born to or who you share a name with. Sometimes it’s made up of a strange man you accidentally dial up and cuss out, or waitresses at a seaside restaurant, or seven-year-old twins who tell you you’re awesome and super pretty. Family are the people who support you and love you no matter what. Who care about your happiness and who don’t pass judgment. Who heal you. Who accept you and the life you’re living. That’s what family is, Mom.

Sure, Mom,” he responded with a childish pout, making me smile. “Think of me as the annoying older sister, Jake. I promise to be that kind of pain in your ass. Now, go!

An agonized scream ripped out of my throat, but it wasn't just from the pain in my hand. It was for my mom... because the man who'd stalked her, raped her, was her own twin brother.

You are the reason he died.” “That’s not fair.” “Do you know what’s not fair?” Mom asks. “That the wrong twin died.” The air is completely knocked out of my lungs as I feel the room, the world melt into nothing around me.

You think you’ll make it in the world, working as a deputy in a Podunk county? You don’t appreciate how cruel and unforgiving the world is.” Uncle Truman and Aunt Louise took Thomas in as always. Truman was Mom’s brother, and he’d worked as a prison guard in Auburn, New York, though the man’s sleepy eyes and easy going demeanor made him a better fit for a librarian job. “Don’t take it to heart,” Uncle Truman had told him, sitting beside Thomas on the twin mattress as Aunt Louise carried an armful of sheets and blankets from the house. “They love you.” “They have a funny way of showing it.” Truman sighed and patted Thomas’s knee as though he was still in grade school. “Your father

My mother would be proud of how hard I'm working to be the gentleman she always impressed upon me to be. I can still remember one conversation in particular, just before she died, when she said, "Women are a treasure. A gift. What do you do with treasure?" "Hoard it?" I'd asked, being a snarky fifteen-year-old. Mom smacked me on the arm, but she was smiling. "No Smaug. You protect it. You guard it. You always remember its value." I don't know if Zoey got similar talks but for girls. Maybe Mom taught her to value herself or to watch out for greedy dragons trying to hoard woman. Abby is a treasure, and she grows more valuable in y eyes every moment I'm with her.

Maybe tangled will be a spectacular rump. maybe i will adore it: it could happen. But one thing is for sure: tangled will not be rapunzel. And thats too bad , because rapunzel is an specially layered and relevant fairytale, less about the love between a man and a woman than the misguided attempts of a mother trying to protect her daughter from (what she perceives ) as the worlds evils. The tale, you may recall, begins with a mother-to-bes yearning for the taste of rapunzel, a salad green she spies growing in the garden of the sorceress who happens to live next door. The womans craving becomes so intense , she tells her husband that if he doesn't fetch her some, she and their unborn baby will die. So he steals into the baby's yard, wraps his hands around a plant, and, just as he pulls... she appears in a fury. The two eventually strike a bargain: the mans wife can have as much of the plant as she wants- if she turns over her baby to the witch upon its birth. `i will take care for it like a mother,` the sorceress croons (as if that makes it all right). Then again , who would you rather have as a mom: the woman who would do anything for you or the one who would swap you in a New York minute for a bowl of lettuce? Rapunzel grows up, her hair grows down, and when she is twelve-note that age-Old Mother Gothel , as she calls the witch. leads her into the woods, locking her in a high tower which offers no escape and no entry except by scaling the girls flowing tresses. One day, a prince passes by and , on overhearing Rapunzel singing, falls immediately in love (that makes Rapunzel the inverse of Ariel- she is loved sight unseen because of her voice) . He shinnies up her hair to say hello and , depending on the version you read, they have a chaste little chat or get busy conceiving twins. Either way, when their tryst is discovered, Old Mother Gothel cries, `you wicked child! i thought i had separated you from the world, and yet you deceived me!` There you have it : the Grimm`s warning to parents , centuries before psychologists would come along with their studies and measurements, against undue restriction . Interestingly the prince cant save Rapuzel from her foster mothers wrath. When he sees the witch at the top of the now-severed braids, he jumps back in surprise and is blinded by the bramble that breaks his fall. He wanders the countryside for an unspecified time, living on roots and berries, until he accidentally stumbles upon his love. She weeps into his sightless eyes, restoring his vision , and - voila!- they rescue each other . `Rapunzel` then, wins the prize for the most egalitarian romance, but that its not its only distinction: it is the only well-known tale in which the villain is neither maimed nor killed. No red-hot shoes are welded to the witch`s feet . Her eyes are not pecked out. Her limbs are not lashed to four horses who speed off in different directions. She is not burned at the stake. Why such leniency? perhaps because she is not, in the end, really evil- she simply loves too much. What mother has not, from time to time, felt the urge to protect her daughter by locking her in a tower? Who among us doesn't have a tiny bit of trouble letting our children go? if the hazel branch is the mother i aspire to be, then Old Mother Gothel is my cautionary tale: she reminds us that our role is not to keep the world at bay but to prepare our daughters so they can thrive within it. That involves staying close but not crowding them, standing firm in one`s values while remaining flexible. The path to womanhood is strewn with enchantment , but it also rifle with thickets and thorns and a big bad culture that threatens to consume them even as they consume it. The good news is the choices we make for our toodles can influence how they navigate it as teens. I`m not saying that we can, or will, do everything `right,` only that there is power-magic-in awareness.

mom

And then your bags will be packed, and mom and dad will drop you off at your college of choice (Or not), and your first night in the dorm room you might realize that you're not at sleep-away camp this time, and this doesn't feel like your queen sized bed at all and you sure wish you'd brought your Lovey or that Winnie the Pooh night-light, but hey, "It ain't no thang," so you just have to adjust to that twin bed and maybe one or two strangers commonly referred to as your roommates who now live in this miniature room with you called home, but if you feel a bit nervous or scared or even lonely on this- your very first night at college- do what E.T. did: PHONE HOME!

saw a “blond guy”—as he was so vividly described—if it’s him. But how hard can he be to spot, right? He’s her twin, he’ll look like her. “I can’t wait to go on this vacation! Me, Mom, my aunt, my mall-loving cousins and Miami Beach!” She chattered endlessly, which is why she’s dubbed Chatterbox Lilly. And, as often happens, I phased out. I wish Mom took me on a three week “educational” vacation and kept me out of school! But I barely see my mom. She’s a cultural anthropologist—she travels all the time. So I’m stuck home with Dad, a novelist. He spends all day in his office and gives me the be-home-by-ten-each-night lecture every morning. Speaking of which, I figured I really should go. Her brother’s plane was even later than we were, and I couldn’t wait any longer. I sighed uncomfortably, just as she laughed. “What?” I asked. “You know, I don’t even know what to say to him! We’re not even that close! It’s weird.” “Recap. Why is he moving in with you all of the sudden?” And why was I not informed he exists before he had to? She popped a bubble noisily. “He said he needs a change of scenery! Personally, my idea of change of scenery is someplace where I can’t freeze to death getting from the front door to the car!

A vision of my mom’s beautiful face came to mind and I held onto the idea that she was always with me, and she would help me get through. I knew that she’d always be with me.

I leaned my head against the glass of the car window. If only Mom were still alive, then I could stay at home and not be shipped off elsewhere

Once Akash set me up with invisibility and taught me some basic killing skills, I deleted StealthViper999—who, I had to admit, was neither stealthy nor viper-like—and created a new avatar, who I called InvisibleDeath. For obvious reasons. At this point, it was Friday afternoon, and most weekends, Reese spends every waking minute (when he’s not at a soccer game) on MetaWorld. So I was all amped up to get my revenge ASAP. But that particular Friday, Reese got a 57 on his math test. Even by my brother’s incredibly low standards, it was such a bad grade that Ms. Santiago made him take the test home to get it signed by a parent. REESE I don’t know what the big deal was. A 57’s still “Very Good.” CLAUDIA I should explain about the Culvert Prep grading system. A few years ago, a bunch of parents complained that letter grades were hurting their kids’ self-esteem. So now, instead of A, B, C, D, and F, our grading scale is “Amazing,” “Spectacular,” “Excellent,” “Very Good,” and “Okay.” Which is totally stupid. Because nothing changed except the names, so if you get a “Very Good” on your report card, your parents have to come in for a special conference with your teacher. And if you get more than one “Okay,” they basically tell you to start looking for another school. Also, I know which parents did the complaining—and I don’t want to be catty or name names, but I can tell you the one thing their kids ABSOLUTELY DO NOT NEED is more self-esteem. Anyway, when Reese brought home his 57 that Friday, Mom and Dad reacted in their usual way, which

So I went to the kitchen to get a toaster pastry. Because when I am feeling down, a toaster pastry usually helps. Reese and Mom were sitting at the kitchen table.