Abby's Twin

  “It won’t fit you, Abby. It was made for me.”

  I touched the brace. “It has to be pretty close,” I insisted.

  “Stop it, already!” Anna snapped.

  Stunned, I pulled away my hand. “All right!”

  With tears brimming in her eyes, Anna stormed upstairs.

  Feeling bewildered, I turned to Mom. “I didn’t mean to upset her. What’d I do wrong?”

  Mom shook her head wearily. “She’s tired. It’s been a very trying day. Give her some space for a while.”

  Space? I didn’t think so. She needed my help. I would have to redouble my efforts.

  On Sunday, Anna wore her brace around the house under her big flannel nightgown. “How does it feel?” I asked.

  “It doesn’t hurt at all. It’s a little weird, though,” she replied, moving stiffly from the kitchen table to the living room couch.

  “What’s weird about it?” I pressed. The more I knew, the more I could help.

  “I can’t really bend at the waist the way I’m used to,” she answered, “and it’s rubbing against my right hip bone.”

  “Are you wearing a shirt under it?”

  Anna nodded. “But the material is bunching around my hip. Maybe I should try one of the lighter undershirts Mom bought me.”

  “I feel awful for you,” I said sympathetically. “It must be so confining. So restricting. I’d hate it.”

  “It’s really a lot less restricting than I expected. I think once I get used to moving a little differently — you know, stooping to get things instead of bending, for instance — it will be all right. Dr. Sherman said I’ll get used to it soon enough.”

  “You’re so brave,” I commented, full of admiration.

  On Monday, it still hadn’t snowed. I was glad of that, though. It meant Anna wouldn’t have to maneuver through snow and ice on her first day going to school with the brace. She came downstairs wearing a sweater and black stretch leggings over her brace. The outfit looked all right, but it bulged a little, in places, now that she had the brace underneath. “Why don’t you wear one of the outfits I bought you?” I suggested.

  “Um … uh …” Anna stammered. “I’m saving them … for the nicer weather.”

  “Oh, I suppose that makes sense,” I said as I held Anna’s jacket up to help her get into it.

  She took the jacket from me and put it on herself. “Ready,” she said, leaning over stiffly to lift her backpack from the couch.

  “Here, take my arm,” I offered, raising my arm to her as we walked out of the house.

  “I don’t need your arm,” she said firmly. “There’s nothing wrong with my legs.”

  “Excuse me. I thought you might be off balance,” I replied coldly.

  “Sorry,” she muttered.

  I tried to stick close to Anna that day in case she needed help. It was hard, though, because our schedules are very different.

  All through the school day, I worried about Anna. What if she dropped her books and couldn’t bend down to pick them up? She’d be mortified if she had to ask for help. I know I would be.

  What if someone made a comment or teased her? Anna would probably take the insult and suffer in silence.

  She really needed me, and it was killing me not to be there for her. By the time I saw Anna again after school, I was dying to hear how her day had gone.

  I spotted her coming down the hall toward my locker. Before she reached me, Alan Gray came barreling into the hall from a classroom. Not looking where he was going at all, he smashed right into Anna.

  “Oh, no!” I cried, rushing toward her as Anna bounced into the lockers, flailed her arms for balance, and slid down to the floor, her books scattering everywhere.

  “I’m okay, I’m okay,” said Anna.

  “Whoa!” Alan gasped, reaching out to help pull Anna up. “Sorry. I didn’t see you. I’m glad that didn’t hurt you. But, man, that hurt me. You must have hard bones. Either that or you’re wearing metal underwear.”

  Metal underwear! The words rang in my head like an alarm. How could he say such a thing?

  “Take your hands off her!” I shouted, ripping Alan’s hand out of Anna’s.

  “It was just an accident,” Alan protested.

  “Just get away from my sister!” I told him angrily.

  “Abby!” Anna gasped. “Stop it!”

  “You watch your fat mouth, Alan Gray!” I cried.

  “You’re nuts, Abby,” Alan said, backing away. “Completely gone.”

  “That’s what I want you to be!” I shouted at him. “Completely gone.”

  When I turned back to Anna, tears were rolling down her cheeks. “Are you hurt?” I asked.

  She shook her head, still crying. “It’s your feelings that are hurt, I know,” I said. “What a jerk he is! He’s so —”

  “It’s not him. It’s you!” Anna cried angrily, wiping her eyes.

  “Me?!”

  “Yes, it’s you. You’re driving me crazy!”

  “Listen, Anna, I know Alan upset you but —”

  “Alan didn’t upset me!” she yelled. “It was an accident, Abby. He didn’t mean to do it.”

  “I know, but he said …”

  “He didn’t know what he was saying. He doesn’t know I’m wearing a brace. He was making a joke. A joke.”

  I folded my arms defensively. “Well, it wasn’t funny.”

  “It would have been all right if you hadn’t gone crazy. You humiliated me.”

  “I didn’t. He did!” I shouted.

  “No, you did.”

  This was unbelievable. I breathed deeply, trying to remember that Anna probably had had a very hard day. She wasn’t herself.

  “Come on,” I said, taking her arm. “We’re going down to the Civic Center pool. You need to swim.”

  Anna yanked her arm away. “I’m not swimming. Forget it.”

  “You have to swim,” I said. “We’ve both read the literature Mom brought home, and I’m sure you remember what Dr. Abrams said. Exercise will keep your muscles strong, which helps support your spine.”

  “I don’t feel like exercising, all right?”

  “No, not all right!” Somewhere, in a corner of my mind, I was aware that I was shouting, but I couldn’t stop. “If you don’t exercise, your curve won’t improve.”

  “We don’t have scoliosis,” Anna shot back. “I do.”

  “Did I say ’we’?”

  “Yes, and that’s exactly how you’ve been acting, like this is your problem. This is my back, Abby, my problem, and I’m dealing with it in my own way. This isn’t about you — believe it or not.”

  “I know it’s your back. I’ve been thinking about you from the start and trying to help.”

  “But it isn’t helping. You’ve been acting like this is happening to you. You keep trying to make me do things you want to do. You volunteered me to work on the carnival. You even bought me clothes only you would wear.”

  “You don’t like the clothes?” I asked, stunned.

  “No! When have you ever seen me wear clothes like that? I’m your twin, Abby, and you act like you don’t even know who I am.”

  “Maybe I don’t know,” I repeated hollowly. “I never thought you could be so ungrateful and self-centered.”

  Stung by my words, Anna turned her back to me. Then, very carefully, she squatted down and began picking up her books.

  Angry as I was, I knelt down to help her.

  Glaring at me, she snatched away the book I had picked up.

  “Fine, be that way!” I exclaimed. “Do everything for yourself. See if I care.”

  Anna didn’t reply but continued furiously gathering her books.

  “What?” I said, standing up. “You’re not talking to me now?”

  Anna just glowered at me.

  “That’s okay with me,” I told her. “It’ll be a relief not to talk to you.” Then I stormed to my locker without looking back.

  Anna and I didn’t speak to one another
for the rest of the week. At first it was easy, because I was so furious with her. I had no desire to speak to her. After all the effort and care I’d put into helping her, she’d told me I was no help. It hurt my feelings. It wasn’t fair or right.

  Maybe I had gone a little crazy with Alan Gray, but I’d spent the entire day worrying about Anna. In my mind, all my fears were coming true when he said that metal underwear thing.

  She could have shown a little understanding about that, just as I was trying to understand her dark moods. I was angry at her, but mostly I felt hurt. Anna acted as though I were some kind of spoiled brat who was annoyed because I wasn’t the center of attention. She was so wrong.

  By Wednesday the feud was wearing me down. It was depressing. “What’s wrong?” Mary Anne asked at our meeting.

  “It’s Anna,” I replied. Before I knew it, I was pouring out the story to my BSC friends.

  “I knew she wouldn’t like those clothes,” Stacey said.

  “Why didn’t you say something, then?” I asked.

  “I tried, but you seemed so sure of what you wanted for her.”

  Was that what had happened? Possibly. I come on too strong sometimes. I know that, but I’m not always aware when I’m doing it. Had I done it with Anna, too?

  “She’ll realize you were only trying to help,” Mary Anne said. “You’ll see.”

  “This is a really hard time for her,” Kristy added.

  “It sounds like it’s been kind of a hard time for you, too,” Jessi added.

  “It has,” I admitted. “But why should it be? Nothing’s happened to me.”

  “Maybe it’s because you’re twins,” Mary Anne suggested. “You must feel so helpless seeing your twin going through something you can’t do anything about.”

  I appreciated Mary Anne’s understanding more than I can say.

  “Why don’t you go home and try to make up?” Mary Anne suggested.

  I shook my head. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. I just can’t.”

  Why couldn’t I? I suppose I was still angry with Anna. My pride was hurt, too. She’d made me feel like an idiot. Part of me desperately wanted to set things right, but I knew I wasn’t ready to bring myself to try. Maybe I was simply afraid to hear more harsh words from Anna.

  When I returned home that night, Anna left the living room the moment I entered it. “What’s going on?” Mom asked as she watched Anna dash up the stairs.

  I told her everything. “Oh, dear.” She sighed. “I was afraid this was coming.”

  “You were?”

  She nodded. “Abby, let me ask you something. Do you feel guilty that this has happened to Anna and not to you?”

  “Why should I feel guilty? I can’t do anything about it.”

  “I know, that’s logical,” Mom said, drawing me down next to her on the couch. “But how do you feel?”

  Unexpectedly, tears rushed into my eyes. “Lonely,” I said. “Afraid.”

  “What are you afraid of?” Mom asked gently.

  “That Anna and I won’t be twins anymore,” I cried. “I know that’s silly but …”

  Mom hugged me. “It’s not silly.”

  “Why does she have to wear a brace and not me?” I sobbed into her shoulder.

  Mom smoothed my hair. “I don’t know, honey, but it’s not your fault.”

  I nodded and wiped my eyes. “Then why do I feel that it is my fault? Why do I feel this is all so wrong?”

  “Because you believe in fairness, Abby, and some things simply aren’t fair.”

  * * *

  On Thursday, I actually made the effort to say hello to Anna at breakfast, but she looked away. Stung — and a little angered by her rejection — I didn’t try again.

  “How are things with Anna and you?” Mary Anne asked at our Friday meeting.

  “Terrible,” I replied.

  “There’s more good news,” Kristy said. “I hate to say this, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to cancel the winter carnival.”

  “No way!” Claudia cried.

  “Why?” asked Mallory.

  Kristy gestured toward the window. “No snow. I could see the mud and grass on my lawn this morning.”

  “But it’s still winter,” Stacey argued. “We don’t need snow for it to be winter.”

  “Stacey, think about what we have planned,” Kristy said, sitting forward in her chair. “A snow sculpture contest, sled races, snow painting, a snowball throwing booth, a snowshoe walking competition.”

  “Okay, okay,” Stacey said glumly. “We do need snow for all of that.”

  “Even hot chocolate is a lot less appealing when it’s nearly forty degrees,” Jessi added.

  “Can’t we try, though? I mean, how are we going to tell people?” Claudia wondered.

  “Maybe I could call the radio station,” Kristy said. “They’re always announcing cancellations. And then we can all just go over to Mary Anne’s and turn away anyone who doesn’t hear about it over the radio. That’s the only way I can think of handling the situation.”

  One person I wouldn’t have to tell about it was Anna. Although I’d volunteered her to work on the carnival, it was obvious she wanted nothing to do with it.

  Just then, the phone rang. As Claudia talked to the client, I wondered how long my fight with Anna would last. Surely it couldn’t last forever.

  Surely I wouldn’t have to say to people: “That was the year Anna and I stopped being twins.”

  The very idea made me shudder. I felt terrible. No snow. No winter carnival. And worst of all, no Anna.

  How had things become so hopeless?

  Stacey had to tell me what happened Saturday morning because I was home with an asthma attack. It was a mild one — my over-the-counter inhaler did the trick — but Mom didn’t want me going out right after it. Besides, I saw no reason to. The carnival was probably canceled. It wasn’t crucial that I be at Mary Anne’s to help tell people to go home. My friends could handle that without me, I was sure.

  At least that’s what I thought.

  Everyone else thought so, too. The morning was as bleak and snow-free as the days preceding it had been.

  Kristy had called Stacey that morning to report that she hadn’t been able to persuade the radio station to make her announcement. “It doesn’t fit into their format, they told me,” Kristy said, sounding disgusted.

  Stacey rolled her eyes. “Too bad we didn’t put posters all over town. Then we could run around and write ‘canceled’ on them.”

  “True. Oh, well. Can you meet at Mary Anne’s and be part of the turn-away committee?”

  “Sure,” Stacey agreed. “I’ll have to bring Charlotte Johanssen with me, though. I’m sitting for her this morning. Is that all right?”

  “No problem,” Kristy replied. “I’ll have Karen and Andrew with me. Jessi’s bringing Becca along. Mallory has to watch her brothers and sisters, and Claudia is helping her. Mary Anne’s minding the Hill kids. Definitely bring Char along. Having the kids there will make everything less depressing.”

  Stacey walked to Charlotte’s, and Dr. Johanssen dropped the girls at Mary Anne’s old farmhouse on Burnt Hill Road. When they arrived, everyone was milling around by the barn. Claudia and Mallory were kneeling just inside the open barn door, working on a sign to tell people the carnival wasn’t going to happen.

  “Hey, what was that?” Charlotte asked as she and Stacey walked toward the others.

  “What was what?” Stacey asked.

  “Something wet landed on my nose.”

  Then Stacey felt it, too. Gazing up, she noticed tiny, almost invisible bits of snow blowing in the air.

  “Hey! Snow!” Nicky Pike shouted.

  Everyone turned their faces upward to see it. The flakes were so light, so … invisible, almost … that no one dared to feel too excited. Still …

  Claudia and Mallory stopped making their sign. “What do you think?” Claud asked Kristy.
br />   “It’ll probably stop soon,” Kristy replied cautiously.

  In minutes, though, the flakes grew thicker and began falling faster. “I think this is real snow,” Mary Anne said hopefully.

  Stacey stepped into the barn doorway for cover and watched as everything around her became dusted in whiteness.

  The kids were the first to become excited. “Snow! Snow! Snow!” Margo Pike sang out as she spread her arms wide and twirled amid the falling flakes.

  “It’s snowing! It’s snowing!” cried Sara Hill, bouncing as if she had invisible springs on her feet.

  Soon all the kids were dancing and jumping, sticking out their tongues to catch falling flakes, examining individual snowflakes, which were rapidly attaching themselves to their gloves and scarves.

  Stacey looked to Kristy and caught her eye. “It’s sticking,” Stacey said.

  “You’re right,” Kristy agreed.

  Claudia smiled broadly. “Let’s do it,” she suggested. “Let’s go ahead with the carnival.”

  “Can we?” Mary Anne asked. “Is there enough time?”

  “Sure there is!” Kristy declared, clapping her gloves together. “But we will really have to move.”

  Kristy is always at her best when something has to be done, and as Stacey told me later, this time she was totally awesome. She assigned everyone to groups, including the kids. Mallory and Claudia mobilized the Pike crew to bring tables out of the barn and set them up, as we had originally planned. Sara and Norman Hill, along with Karen and Andrew Brewer, joined Kristy in putting up the signs we’d painted, showing which booths were which. Mary Anne, Jessi, and Stacey took Charlotte and Becca inside to start the hot chocolate and to unwrap the baked brownies and cookies, which had been prepared ahead of time.

  As they scurried around in the falling snow, everyone seemed to be in a great mood. Mary Anne’s dad saw what was happening, and even he caught the spirit. He hooked up the stereo speakers so that they faced out into the yard, then he put on tapes. The first song he played was “Winter Wonderland.”

  “This is a winter wonderland!” Charlotte exclaimed, hugging Stacey.

  “It sure is,” Stacey agreed. “What good luck!”

  It must have been around that time that she called me from Mary Anne’s kitchen phone. “Come over right now if you’re feeling better,” she said. “We’re having so much fun.”