Before Mom can say anything else, Principal Carr’s door opens and he steps out, all pinstriped suit and red tie and too much product in his graying hair. He and my dad shake hands like the manly men they are, and he offers Mom a gentlemanly nod. I roll my eyes so hard it hurts.
“Thank you for coming in, Mr. and Mrs. McHale,” he says. “Why don’t we all go into my office?”
“Of course,” Mom says, sweeping past him as he gestures her inside. Dad hesitates, waiting for me. I stand on wobbly legs, the adrenaline still in control like a drug. Dad inhales sharply, my outfit on full display now, but he says nothing.
Once my parents are settled in the two leather wingback chairs in front of the massive mahogany desk—?I’m perched on the edge of a plastic chair—?Principal Carr launches into a very sad and sympathetic-sounding account of what happened in the hallway. Except it’s full of holes and half-truths, leaving out Hannah and the vicious whispers snaking through the halls like a goddamned python. Instead it’s all Mara and inappropriate and violent and unprovoked.
“And if that wasn’t enough,” he says, “Mara is in grievous violation of our dress code today.”
“I can see that, Principal Carr,” Mom says, “and we will talk with her about that, but right now I’m more concerned about this Jaden boy.” She turns to me, her mouth a thin pink-lipsticked line. “I don’t even know what to say, Mara.”
“How about why?” I spit out.
“Watch your tone, young lady,” she says, eyes narrowing.
“You really don’t want to know why?”
“Of course I do. But I’m sorry if I’m a little irritated because I receive a phone call in the middle of a restoration informing me that my usually very well-behaved daughter has assaulted some poor boy.”
“He’s not some poor boy. He’s an asshole.”
“Okay,” Dad says. “Let’s all calm down.”
“And isn’t this what you wanted me to do?” I ask Mom, gesturing to my skirt. “Weren’t you so excited about me taking on the . . . what did you call it? ‘The institutional misogyny of the patriarchal system’?”
Her face flushes red. “That is not what I meant and you know it. This is too far. That skirt is inappropriate, and violence in any form and for any reason is unacceptable.”
My teeth clench, the words I need to say fighting against me to get out. I hate these words—?fear them, even—?but they’re strong and furious, shoving themselves from my mouth. “I think you’re talking to the wrong twin.”
Silence trails after my words. Principal Carr clears his throat, but no one looks at him. Mom stares at me, horror practically dripping from her pores. I relish that, too, while at the same time hating how quickly she’s turned into some stranger I don’t know, how I don’t fucking recognize anyone anymore.
Team Owen.
Principal Carr hems and haws for a few seconds and then starts in on the details of my two-day suspension—?one for the dress code violation and one for “behavior unbecoming of a lady.” That’s the actual phrase he uses and I want to spit it back in his face.
By the time my mother pulls me up from the chair by one arm, I’m so angry I can barely see straight. I’m speechless, boneless. Mom hauls me from the building while my father signs the office write-up.
We’re halfway home before I realize I never explained why and Mom never really asked.
After we get home, my dad has to head back to the furniture store, but my mom stays, probably to make sure I don’t try to escape. She declares herself too angry to look at me as she grabs a Diet Coke from the fridge.
“Change out of that costume and go think about what you did,” she says. “We’ll talk about it more later.” Then she disappears into her room, slamming the door as she goes, just in case I didn’t understand how pissed she is.
I feel like sticking my tongue out at her. Treat me like a child, and a child is what you’ll get.
Before he leaves, Dad just stares at me as if he doesn’t even know who I am. He probably doesn’t. We don’t know who any of us are. Years under the same roof and we’re all strangers, circling one another and living with happy illusions about star-infused twins and the parents who love them so much that they let them adventure in the sky.
I wander around the house for a while, my skin and blood still buzzing too much to stand still, but eventually I crash. I end up in my room, standing in front of the full-length mirror, staring at my thighs and the tight stretch of the T-shirt over my chest. My arms come up instinctively, wrapping around myself, not to hide, but to hold myself together. I should feel empowered, proud, even. The skin on the palm of my right hand still smarts a little from slapping Jaden, and a dull scratch scrapes the back of my throat from telling him off.
But I don’t feel empowered. I don’t feel proud. I feel drained and powerless, tired and sad.
I lie down on my bed and curl myself into the comforter, burrowing deep. My sound machine sits silent on my night table and I can’t even reach that far to snap it on. The quiet rings through me, bringing up memories.
A specific memory. The day a certain girl died and another was born.
Chapter Eighteen
THE FINAL BELL SINGS THROUGH THE AIR and the class erupts, hands clapping and mouths laughing, an entire summer stretching out before us like an endless ocean along a shore. From across the room, I catch Alex’s grin. The past three years in middle school have sucked for him, a constant barrage of pudgy jokes and squinty-eye slurs from jerks, and I know he’s been waiting for that last bell for a long time. I smile at him, swiping a hand across my forehead in a whew gesture. He laughs and nods, then ticks his head toward the hallway.
