All characters are at least 18 years old and over.
This has been edited since the first publication.
GEORGINA
I can't believe those two. In trouble again--smoking weed at school. Where did I go wrong? I got the call half an hour ago and dropped everything at the office to come deal with this mess, dragging myself back to face that horrible woman for the third time this month. Robert insisted on coming along to support me, never needing an invitation. He always knows when I need him. I watch his ruggedly handsome face as he drives us to the school. He has his father's eyes, the same strong jaw and large nose. Everything else he gets from me. Well, not everything. He flashes me a reassuring smile that everything will be alright. That's all I need. Simply to be sitting next to him is enough to calm my fragile nerves. What would I ever do without him?
"Are you ready, Mom?" his soothing low voice swims into my ears. It sends a shudder down the nape of my neck that trails all the way to my knees. It makes me feel weak and strong at the same time. He has that effect on me. I smooth the bottom of my dark blue dress with white polka dots. The flesh-coloured pantyhose adds a luxurious silkiness to my thick legs. They give me a double dose of confidence as I step out of the family car.
I wasn't always this confident. As a young girl, I hated my figure. I always struggled to find clothes that fit me properly. My breasts were even bigger than the adults when I was still just a teenager. Now as a woman of forty-eight, they're obscenely enormous. My ass is equally extreme in proportions.
When I first met Ethan almost twenty-five years ago, I was still grappling with low self-esteem and the overwhelming belief that I wasn't good enough for anyone. I mistook his attention for love, his persistence for devotion. And because I didn't think I deserved better, I married him.
At first, I told myself I should be grateful. He had chosen me. Out of all the people in the world, he had wanted me. But as the years passed, that gratitude turned into something heavier, something suffocating. I wasn't happy. I wasn't in love. I was trapped in a life I had built out of fear, not desire.
It wasn't until Robert grew up that I finally began to see myself differently. He made me believe in myself and showed me that I was beautiful. That I was valued.
I take my son's hand as we walk the hallways of his own ghost land. He too, had a difficult time at school. The twenty-three-year-old man by my side is a marvel in comparison to the troubled teen he had been when he attended West Temple High. Mrs. Grainger wasn't the principal back then. She was Robert's English teacher and she made his life a living hell. The act of him returning to his place of torment truly shows his dedication to me and it warms my heart. I don't deserve such a faithful son. He amazes me every single day. I couldn't ask for a better man by my side. He strides up to the office with an air of confidence that I know he is putting on for my benefit--or is it to prove something his former nemesis? He doesn't even bother knocking. He throws the door open and stands triumphantly to face her. God, I love his inner strength.
JACK
My legs ache as if they mimic the furious beating of my apprehensive heart. The steel chair presses uncomfortably against my back, a cold reminder of what's coming. I try to hear what's being said behind the closed door, but my ears only receive the dull hum of a stern voice. The words are indecipherable.
My best friend is in the next room with the school principal. She is my favorite person in the whole world -- my soulmate, under interrogation by the old hag principal. The scent of the joint we shared must have stretched for miles. How on earth did she find us so far from the main building? We always use the same hideout and have never been discovered until today. The long drip of sweat hanging on my hair finally gives up and falls onto my cheek.
What was happening in there? Were we about to be expelled? Mum would be furious. We're always getting into trouble. Jade, my partner in crime as always.
Suddenly the door creaks open. The hunched figure beckons me inside. We always call her old hag behind her back. Mrs. Grainger is the epitome of a witch that you would find in any folklore. Beige straws stick out of her head like a bird's nest that has just been dismantled. Cruel, sharp eyes that are almost purple. Crooked teeth as yellow as an egg yolk. Skin so coarse and wrinkled, it resembles sandpaper -- she is truly grotesque.
"Jack. Step inside," she snarls. "Jade, you stay right where you are. Since you two are as bad as each other, I may as well tell you both what's about to happen." What's about to happen? I glance sideways, desperately seeking Jade's eyes as I take a seat next to her. She doesn't seem to notice, or she's pretending that I'm not in the room about to receive the punishment that will likely send our mother over the edge. Then in a flash I'm reminded of our close bond. Her finger trails over my wrist and she gives my hand a quick squeeze before returning back to her lap. That's all I need to feel secure. If she ever abandons me, I'll be truly lost.
Then she straightens up her back and faces Mrs. Grainger directly.
"If you're going to expel us, the least you can do is wait for our mom to arrive," she pronounces defiantly. Mrs. Grainger eyes her warily and her shoulders begin to tighten as if she's about to launch herself at my brave sister. Then, her low slump resumes as she lets out a deep sigh of resignation.
"I'm not expelling you..." Jade and I share looks of bewilderment. She shoots me a quick smirk, which I return as we brace for the outcome. "However," she continues abruptly, killing our temporary celebrations, "One of you will be leaving West Temple High immediately."
My heart leaps into my throat. One of us? We've never been separated in our whole lives. We are one and the same. The thought of existing in any space of being without Jade seems like a fate worse than death. I know she feels the same way. It's written all over her pale, lightly freckled face. Her auburn hair covers her eyes as she slumps deep into her chair, yet I know her features so well, I can interpret any sign of happiness, despair, fear, pain... I can read her emotions from a simple twitch on her cheek or from the rhythm of her breathing. Finally, I work up the courage to speak.
"Mrs. Grainger. You can't do that. I'm sorry for what we did. I know it was wrong. But we've always been together. From birth. Twins can't be separated like that. We're not like other siblings. You need to understa..." She waves her gnarled hand in my face. She has a special power over the students. Maybe she really is a witch. I never believed any superstitious mumbo jumbo before, but Jade always has. I'm starting to see why.
"Frankly, I don't even care which one of you is expelled. All I know is that the two of you are a bad influence on each other, furthermore on a lot of the students at this school. Yes. Let's wait until you mother arrives. I'm going to give her the honour of choosing which one of you bears the punishment." The corners of her mouth tilt into something resembling a smile, though her eyes remain cruel and without remorse. It's almost comical. If I had to pick an actor to play the biggest cliché of a villain, she would be my choice. As if Mrs. Grainger has performed some sort of a summoning spell, the door opens and in steps the woman in charge of our fate and she's not alone.
ROBERT
Of all the things I'd rather not have to do, this takes the cake. I never thought I'd see Mrs. Grainger again in my life, yet here I am, standing behind her office door. The familiar scent of old books and the harsh fluorescent lighting take me back--back to when I was an unruly teen at this very school. The room feels as sterile, as unwelcoming, as it ever did. Nothing's changed, except me. Or so I tell myself. Of course, I'm only here because of Mom. The things I do for her... No amount of money or pleading could have dragged me here for anyone else. I can already feel the weight of the conversation we're about to have, and I'm not sure I'm ready for it. But here I am, with the woman I trust most by my side. Together, we can face any challenge--no matter how uncomfortable--with courage and tenacity. We walk together, hand in hand and I glance over at her. She looks incredibly nervous. Don't worry, Mom. I'm here with you. God, she's so beautiful. Her dark brown bob frames her face perfectly, accentuating her undeniable cuteness. Sparkling cyan eyes, both striking and mysterious, peek out from beneath the thick rims of her glasses. As we draw closer, her grip tightens, and she gazes up at me with those wide, doe-like eyes--soft, searching, and full of something I can't quite name. I press a gentle kiss to her forehead, and a visible ease washes over her. She smiles, a quiet reassurance in her expression, and we move forward together
Fuck it! Something inside me snaps, and before I can think, I burst the door open with such force that I can feel Mom's incredible eyes on me--gazing at me with a mixture of fear and warmth.
"Well, well," the decrepit old beast spits in my direction. I can actually see her saliva fly through the air and watch as it trails towards the cheap old carpet. I'm almost surprised it doesn't burn through the floor. I remember when we used to call her the Queen Cobra. One time, she heard me and a couple of buddies joking about it and we all got detention for a month, it was worth it just to see her vile face contort and wince. "Robert Jenkins, the boy who cried cobra," she continues, spraying her fluids all over her desk. "You're all grown up now I see. I hope you've finally managed to control that temper of yours," she chuckles to herself in amusement.
"My son doesn't have to listen to your snide remarks anymore, Mrs. Grainger. I suggest you keep to the matter at hand," Mom says in her sweet, high-pitched voice. It's less than intimating, yet it's layered with a tone of warning anyone would be foolish to ignore. The old cobra turns her head disdainfully at my mother, not unlike a snake and adjust her position before speaking. She clears her raspy throat, perhaps to settle the venom that's rising in her anger.
"Mrs. Jenkins..."
"Just call me Georgina."
"Very well," she says disinterestedly. "This isn't the first time these two have broken the rules. They never attend religious studies..."
"That's all a bunch of made-up crap," Jack chimes in. Mrs. Grainger pretends not to notice his interruption, though I can see the irritation on her face. Her left eye pulsates when she gets angry. We used to try our best to get that same reaction from her when I was in her class. Whoever was able to get her to twitch was the king for the day. She rearranges her glasses carefully, no doubt stalling for time while she decides what she's going to say, and trying her best to make it as painful and unpleasant as possible. That's just the way she is. A miserable old bitch.
"They skip classes. They're disrespectful of their teachers and even some of the other students. Now they're hanging out behind the football field singing Puff the Magic Dragon."
Jade breaks down, laughing hysterically. Jack soon follows. I don't think they understand the reference, but they find it hilarious all the same. I almost burst out myself, but I'm trying so hard to keep things professional. Mom shoots them both a stern glance and they regress back to their usual mischievous smirks. I shake my head in disbelief. It's uncanny just how similar they are sometimes. The only thing separating them is their gender.
