Through droopy eyes, I saw her silhouette slink toward the jack-and-jill bathroom. Once inside, I heard the other door creek open. Oh my God, she had snuck into Travis's room!
Why was I surprised? Cursing myself for being so stupid, I pounded the mattress with my fists, a mixture of humiliation and rage welling up inside of me. Of course, popular Mindy Thompson had only befriended me to get a sleepover invite to get close to my twin brother – Mr. Basketball, Mr. Football, Mr. Everything – Travis Scott. I should have known better.
And now I have to pee … great. As I sat on my throne of despair, I heard that damned Mindy, her little cries of ‘Yes’ coming faster and faster. I finished peeing, but didn’t get up right away when I heard the bedspring squeaking. Curiosity got the best of me and I leaned to the side with my ear towards his bedroom door, straining to hear more. Suddenly the squeaking stopped and I almost fell off my throne upon hearing Mindy let out a squeal that was quite loud, then abruptly silenced by what I imagined was a pillow, or dear brother's hand.
Bitterness flooded my insides as I surmised he must be really good in bed, otherwise they wouldn't keep coming back wanting more. I angrily tore off a few squares of TP and wiped myself, but it felt different. I was still wet, and not with water. I reached up and touched a nipple and received an electric jolt from my breast that shot right to my clit. Jesus, what am I doing?
I put my hand to the toilet handle but stopped myself. If I flush, they will know I am in here, and probably listening. Shit!
I sat there for a couple minutes trying to figure out what to do when I heard it – Mindy giggling, and Travis laughing quietly. The bed was quiet, so they obviously weren’t doing it; they were just talking. And giggling. And sharing, which was worse to me than the fucking.
That used to be me. I was the one who made Travis laugh. A wave of overwhelming sadness swept over me. When was the last time we laughed together? How come I can’t even remember that?
I stood up and flushed the toilet, because fuck them!
The next day, Mindy left and I never spoke to her again. And my next hair color was alien green. I couldn't compete with Travis, so I decided to become too different to compare.
"Christ!" He shook his head rapidly back and forth as I walked out the front door. "Why?" he continued, with eyeballs bugging.
"Why what?"
"Why did you add that pukey color to your hair?"
"What difference does it make?"
"What you choose to do doesn't just affect you, you know! Christ!"
"I don't see how my hair color affects you."
"You dress all bag-lady-like, color your hair weird colors, act all dark and depressed all the time at school and don't think that affects me. Christ, you're selfish!"
Trying to act indifferent to his tirade, I strode past him and slid into the passenger side of the car we shared, a joint sixteenth birthday present from Mom and Dad last month. It may as well have been given solely to him though, as I never went anywhere in it except to school and back. We didn't talk on the car ride to school, but that's the thing about us being twins – we didn't need words. One look at him and I knew what he was thinking.
Later that night, upon hearing Dad's booming voice, I crept down the stairs to find out what the fuss was about. I heard him directing his anger at Travis, which was unusual. The golden boy rarely got into trouble.
"Just listen, Dad!"
"Nothing that boy said is worth you risking your spot on the team, Travis! Walk away from it!"
Mom interjected with her voice quivering. "Are you hurt? Did you hurt him?"
"No! I just shoved him against the locker to shut him up and a crowd gathered and Mr. Jenkins blew it all out of proportion. I didn't even hit him!"
"I wanna know what he said."
There was silence for a few moments, then Travis answered with a lowered voice. "It was about Tara. He was making fun of Tara."
Tears stung my eyes and I rushed back upstairs, not wanting to hear any more. I wasn't even sure why I was crying. It's not like I didn't know guys made fun of me. But, hearing Travis defended me … well … it hit me funny.
When he slammed his bedroom door shut, I knew he and Dad were done talking. I walked into our shared bathroom, then knocked on the door to his room.
“What?”
I slowly opened the door and walked over and plopped down at his desk. He lay on his back, spinning a football in his hands repeatedly.
“In case you didn’t notice, sweet sister, I didn’t say ‘come in’.”
“I heard you say someone was making fun of me, that’s why you got in trouble.”
“Yeah, well … don’t worry about it.” He stopped spinning the ball. He still hadn't looked at me. “I did tell you, though, that green hair is bullshit and it affects more than just you.” He started spinning the ball again.
“How much trouble are you in?”
“I gotta do ten hours of Spirit Service next month. Ten. Fucking. Hours.”
I went over and took the football from him. Now he looks at me. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? It isn’t permanent; I’ll wash it out tonight. But …” And I paused awkwardly, not knowing what to say. I took a breath and found my voice. “Thank you. It … means a lot.” I handed him back his ball, which he promptly started spinning again.
I headed back to the bathroom so I could get to my room, ending the awkward situation. But he spoke just as I opened the door.
“Forget about it. And don’t wash your hair. You should, you know, do you. Like, be whoever you want. Besides,” he said as he stopped spinning his ball and looked over at me. “You look kinda hot.”
I turned my back to him before he could see the smile cross my face, then walked out the door.
~ooOoo~
It was Friday night and our parents were going away for the weekend to celebrate their anniversary. Dad lifted the suitcases and headed towards the door while Mom rattled off her list of what-not-to-dos for the zillionth time, ending with, "No friends over, Travis!" Then thoughtfully added, "Or you either, Tara!"
I managed to stifle my amused laugh, as everyone knew I had no friends to invite. Mom, bless her fair-minded soul, had always tried so hard to keep everything "Even Steven" between me and Travis, despite our obvious differences.
Travis headed for the family room as soon as the door shut, but I stared out the window, watched them drive away, and felt a sudden, forgotten rush of excitement. Memories of a few years back flooded my mind, remembering how Travis and I loved it when they went out for the night and we had the house to ourselves. We'd order pizza and binge horror movies (that Mom hated us watching). My eyes fogged with tears as I ached for that closeness we once shared.
Those memories kept me from retreating upstairs to my room and I wandered into the family room, standing in the doorway until he noticed me.
"Well, look who it is making a rare appearance from her dark lair of solitude. I didn't figure I'd see you again until Sunday."
I ignored his sarcasm and silently moved towards him then shoved his big feet off the couch so I could sit down. He eyed me with furrowed brows, no doubt surprised by my approach.
You could cut the awkward silence with a lightsaber, so I decided to speak. "The original Star Wars trilogy is on Channel 10."
He sat upright, turned towards me, and narrowed his eyes. "So what, I thought you hated those?"
"Not really. I just told Dad that because I was tired of hearing him go on and on about how much better movies were when he was growing up." I glanced at Travis and we both laughed, silently agreeing Dad annoyed us in that same way.
Awkward silence passed again. So uncomfortable. I never used to be uncomfortable around him.
"Sis?" He thankfully broke the silence first.
"Yeah?" We locked eyes and I saw my sadness reflected back in his eyes.
"What happened to us? We used to be inseparable, spoke our own language and all that."
"You found sports."
"Is that when it started? I mean Mom grew worried about us and started pushing us to branch out separately and stuff, so I did."
"I know. You branched out and I didn't know how without you by my side." Funny how easily those words came pouring out my mouth. Words I'd kept locked inside for the last several years.
"I was … we were nine when she made me go out for Pop Warner football. I didn’t want to. But I ended up being good at it.”
“You ended up being amazing, you goof.”
“How would you know? You never go to my games now.”
“I’ve been to most of them, I just … well, I hide in the upper corners of the stands.”
He smiled at me and it gave me the courage to approach an embarrassing subject with him.
"So, you like it?"
"Like what?"
"You know … sex with all those bimbos."
He laughed out loud. "Wow, way to change the subject, sis!" He playfully kicked me with one of his big feet I'd shoved off the couch. "Well, of course, I like sex." His smile faded, "But not so much the bimbos if I'm honest."