Can I call them my parents anymore? My foster parents.
The Kaisers.
And their cute son, Gunner.
Our little family took a blow when my foster father was murdered, and then I damaged the family even more when I did what I did. But that’s a fairytale shoved to the back of my mind. When Annika died, and Riley Laws was born, I went underground and dropped contact with my foster mom, who was the best and most generous person in the world, and, of course…
Gunner.
Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my glasses. Three years and thinking of him still did this to me. He didn’t know that he inadvertently stole my heart amongst the growth spurts, summers by the lake, and stealing candy. He didn’t know because I never told him, mainly because it was completely inappropriate. Even when we played around a little in our mid-teens, I still didn’t let on that he’d captured my heart in his web.
But a girl like me wasn’t used to kindness and love. My birth mother dumped me in an orphanage at age six, and I was in and out of foster homes, some of which were cruel and unpleasant. My first few years on this earth were starved of love; therefore, it took me a while to understand that love was not conditional or something used to manipulate people.
Perhaps I interpreted Gunner’s kindness for something more. Upon reflection, I realized I was just an inexperienced girl hungry for a boy to love me.
But that’s all in the past now.
After checking my phone for directions, I finally found the athletic field, where a group of students played a casual football game while others were lying on the grass in the sun. I sat in the empty bleachers, found Judith’s name in my contacts, and considered informing her of the TRAITOR scribbled on the back of my door. But I decided against it because I was questioning whether it was there in the first place.
Me: Daily check-in. I’m good.
A girl sitting three seats below me opened a packet of Cheetos startling me because I hadn’t noticed she was sitting there. But she looked like that type of girl who was easy to miss. The more I looked at her, the more she resembled me—or, more accurately, I resembled her.
Glasses, plain, shy, nerdy, hid behind long hair, bag weighed down with books—a loner. I stifled a cringe. My entire appearance and new identity were modeled on a wallflower like her. I groaned, feeling uncomfortable being near her and wanting to move away before she accused us of being twins.
Judith: Any problems settling in at Gotland?
I hesitated as my twin crunched on Cheetos while reading an open book, and the cheese scent reminded me that I had forgotten to have breakfast.
Me: No.
Judith: Are you making new friends?
Shaun’s smiling face entered my mind, and anger rose. “What a prick,” I stated aloud, and my twin turned back to look at me.
Again, it hit me hard that I was talking to myself because I had no friends. I chatted about this new part of my personality often because I was so lonely and needed to talk things out with people sometimes, yet I had no people to talk to. When I was a little kid living with my mom, I rarely spoke at all, and that way of dealing with trauma stayed with me throughout the foster homes and then onto the Kaisers. It took a lot of coaxing to pull me out of my shell, but they, the Kaisers, particularly my foster mom and Gunner, believed I was worth it and put enormous amounts of time and therapy into me.
Me: Yes.
I lied to Judith, a sergeant in the Larsson Police force, who had been my guiding hand throughout this distress and organized my new identity and safe houses. Getting used to my new skin took several months, and I had multiple moments where I’d forget who I was supposed to be. Being at college bombarded by new people and personalities acting normal, I felt my cover would be blown. With so many people in my environment, someone, even one person, might see through my disguise.
I decided to take the risk because I just wanted to feel normal and plan a future, even though my normal was fake and everyone I met was deceived.
Judith: Good. I’ll top up your PayPal.
Me: Thank you. Is there enough money for me to buy a car?
I knew the answer before I asked it, but I thought Judith might be able to help me, perhaps by lending me money or a car. You don’t know until you ask.
Judith: Not on this budget. You might need to get a job.
Me: OK. I can do that.
My twin licked her fingers after eating half the bag of Cheetos, then neatly folded the bag, revealed a bag clip, and placed it over the top, like magic. My twin had the domestic habits of a 1950s grandmother, and it only made me want to head to the store to buy the largest bag of cheese and barbeque Cheetos and demolish the entire lot for breakfast.
My hangover didn’t eventuate from last night, and immediately, that piece of shit Shaun entered my thoughts, fucking me in his bed, then discarding this loser if I did something wrong. Or maybe he could tell I was a fraud.
I found my wallet in my bag, checked that it had some cash, and then started stepping down the bleachers. As I passed my twin, she turned to look up at me. I was about to say ‘hi,’ but as soon as our eyes met, she dropped her head down, showing her social awkwardness, or maybe she just wanted to be left alone to read her book.