When the text from Mrs. Chang first flashed up on my phone, I was half tempted to reply with a polite fib about other plans, and maybe a hint that her girls were far too old to need a babysitter any more. But I did need the money, and I didn't have anything else to do, and I had babysat them before, so I knew what to expect.
Of course that was more than five years ago, and I'd gone off to college, bombed out of senior year, spent six months in a depressive spiral in my parents' guest bedroom, and begun the painstaking process of putting a now completely unrecognizable life back together since then. I was twenty-four now, and feeling extremely old and wise, which meant the twins would be eighteen. Legal adults! But I knew how strict the Changs were, and from what neighborhood gossip said, the girls were still almost as sheltered, naive and diffident as they had been at thirteen, when they were already remarkable for a meekness and shyness that seemed more like elementary school than middle school. They would give me no trouble -- and, I reflected, I might even be able to encourage them to stand up for themselves a little.
But it still felt eerie, and maybe even a little creepy, to be walking up the Changs' driveway as though nothing had changed. I had put on a lot of weight since they had seen me last -- the freshman fifteen had turned into a couple of hundred at the worst of my depression, and I was still trying to learn to treat my new body kindly instead of just spending every minute of the day wanting to die about it -- and I knew my puffier face, with its large creases under the eyes, was not the face they were expecting.
But I was surprised by how gently the elder Changs received me. They were still their tiny whip-thin selves, of course: no taller than four foot nine, and only a few more wrinkles in Mr. Chang's face and a couple of iron-gray wisps at Mrs. Chang's temples indicated any passage of time. They said how good it was to see me, how grateful they were for my being able to help them out at such short notice, and asked politely after my family before glancing at their watches and making for the door.
The girls, called for as their parents opened the door, came running down the stairs and stopped abruptly at its foot in the same posture I remembered them always being in: unwilling to look me in the eye, side by side, heads lowered. They seemed to have hardly grown any taller either: of course shortness ran in the family, but not even high-fructose American nutrition seemed capable of pushing a Chang over the five-foot mark.
"Now you girls be good for Briana," admonished Mrs. Chang severely. "I don't want to hear about any funny business." The girls' short black hair tossed back and forth, their faces hidden in its curtains, as they shook their heads in submissive agreement. She threw a glance at me. "We will be back at ten, You know where everything is."
"Sure," I said, a little breathlessly. "Have fun." The door closed, and I eyed the twins with some concern. They seemed to have grown even more quietly eccentric since I had last seen them. They stood awkwardly, looking down. I tried to wave at them, but getting no response, sighed.
"Are you girls okay?"
They glanced up in surprise at that, made uninterpretable faces, and then burst into giggles, hanging their heads again and clasping each other for support. I felt myself losing patience, which surprised me: surely this was supposed to be an easy evening. I crossed over to stand directly in front of them, and put out my hand. They stared at it in surprise.
"Hi," I said very distinctly. I knew that I still had a trace of a Salvadoran accent if I rushed. "I'm Briana Chavez. I don't know if you remember me."
The one on the left began to giggle again, but the one on the right stared up into my face, and nudged her sharply, then put out her slim little hand and shook my pudgy one.
"I'm Lily," she said. She nudged her sister again, who suppressed another giggle, and put her hand out.
"I'm Violet."
"It's good to meet you again. Are you seniors now?"
They both nodded. Lily appeared to gather her courage.
"We're graduating in December," she said, and her eyes panicked a little bit as she realized she might have to explain why.
"Oh, you earned enough AP credits to graduate early," I said, and her face brightened in gratitude. "Congratulations. I knew you girls were always very smart."
They nodded, and shifted uncomfortably. I realized that they were thinking about my own academic failure, which had to have been widespread neighborhood gossip for the last two years.
"Why don't we sit down?" I said, gesturing towards the living room. "It will be more comfortable."
They nodded, and almost rushed towards the couch. They were wearing the white button-up shirts and thigh-length skirts of a school uniform, although their legs and feet were bare. I was in a sweatshirt and jeans, but only wore socks on my feet, having left my sneakers by the front door, as was customary when entering the Changs'.
The living room was just as I remembered, organized along strict feng shui principles, with the couch and chairs angled inward, facing each other instead of straight towards the television, I sat down in an armchair and pretended to not hear it creak underneath me.
"So, Violet and Lily, are you enjoying your classes?" I began patiently. I remembered the work I had had to put in drawing them out in conversation when they were twelve and thirteen, and they seemed to have gained no further social graces since then.
Violet shrugged, but Lily nodded.
"I'm taking Biology," she said, then stopped, and turned crimson. Violet made a smothered gasp, and pushed her, and the two of them began giggling among themselves once more. I cocked my head.
"Why is that funny?" I asked, a little more sharply than I meant to, but this schoolgirl self-consciousness was getting on my nerves. They both froze, and looked at me in a scared kind of way.
"It's not," whispered Violet.
"We're sorry," said Lily, shaking her head.
"No, no," I said, now suddenly determined not to let them hide behind their diffidence. "You thought it was funny for a reason. It's all right. You're not going to get in trouble. I'm not going to tell your parents. You're eighteen and have a right to your own thoughts and... and jokes." I felt myself slightly out of breath, surprised by my own earnestness. "So what is funny about Biology?"
The girls looked at each other for a long moment, and then at me.
"You won't be mad?" said Lily.
"I promise."
"Biology is what we call...." she gestured vaguely towards her lap, and then grimaced, seeing I was still as lost as before.
"What you call what?" I asked.
Violet stood up suddenly, and pulled her skirt up above her knees, and then kept pulling, bunching the fabric up around her hips until not only the swell of her thighs came into view but also, instead of the white cotton panties I was expecting, a dark, hairy mons.
Blushingly, Lily pointed at the mat of black hair between Violet's thighs.
