Page 9 of Turn

“But…” Cami prodded.

I lowered my foot and firmly stopped the swing. “It’s occurred to me that I ought to make my own way. Without help from my Daddy. I’ve been too cautious, Cams. I’ve been stuck in neutral.”

My sister chewed on those words for a long moment. When she spoke again her voice was low, sad. “I thought you knew that you never deserved what you got.”

I closed my eyes for a second, feeling a wave of dread as long buried feelings tried to resurface. “I do know that.”

“But it still bothers you, doesn’t it?”

I opened my eyes. I hadn’t meant for the conversation to go in this direction. Half of humanity probably has a shitty high school story. Mine was likely a little shittier than most but I’d made a mistake in allowing it to define me for so long. Someone looking in from the outside might wonder why in the hell I didn’t just get over the past and figure out how to move on, how to become part of the world again.

I didn’t know why.

But I did know that I had trouble remembering how it felt to be lighthearted and trusting. And I knew that I hated recalling what it had felt like to despise myself. Almost as much as I despised the person who had wronged me in the first place.

An indignant voice came from the darkness. “Are we being antisocial?”

My little sister materialized from the shadows and proceeded to wedge herself between us on the swing.

“We just stepped out for a few minutes until the feeding frenzy dies down,” I explained.

“What were you doing lurking in the side yard?” Cami asked.

Cadence shifted and pushed off on the swing. Once upon a time the three of us had fit on here so easily. Now it was a tight squeeze.

“I wasn’t lurking,” Cadence said. “I was taking out the garbage.”

I sniffed. “Were you smoking?”

“What? No. Maybe.”

Cami was incredulous. “Shit, you’re smoking now?”

Cadence shook her head. “Not really. I just needed to decompress.”

“Do you know smoking causes lung cancer, throat cancer and facial wrinkles?” Cami lectured.

“You don’t say,” Cadence said in a voice of mock horror. “I live in fear of untimely smile lines.”

“I’m serious.”

Cadence yawned. “Relax. On average I light up twice a month. That doesn’t exactly make me a chimney.”

“Hey Cami,” I said, addressing my twin over Cadence’s head, “I think we’ve been neglecting our big sister duties.”

“I think you’re right.” Cami said.

“What should we do about it?”

“You guys,” Cadence protested, “I no longer require handlers. I’m eighteen, about to leave home and everything.”

“Nonsense,” Cami said. “Big sisters are by definition handlers for eternity.”

Cadence yelped suddenly. “Why the hell did you pinch me, Camille?”

“I did that,” I said. “Penalty for smoking. You know better.”

“Yes, I do,” Cadence grumbled, elbowing me. “Which is why I rarely inhale. Now find another subject.”

---