Page 7 of True Blue

I roll the window back up as Mira puts her seat belt on. I adjust the mirrors and buckle my own belt. “Ready to go celebrate our academic freedom?”

She giggles. “It’ll be a short-lived freedom. Freshman year starts in less than 3 months.”

I shrug and put the car into drive. “A window of freedom then.” I pull out of the spot and marvel at the smoothness of the ride. Looking back in the rearview mirror, I watch my forgotten graduation gown float back to the ground and Emerald Grove disappear as we drive out of the lot.

3

Ipet the split leaves of my monstera deliciosa, tipping the glass of water and pouring around her pot until the soil starts to drain. “There you go, Delilah. Now, Dad’s going to water you while I’m away, but I promise I’ll remind him to check your soil every week and facetime at least twice a month.” I check the soil of my golden pothos, Zeke, on the shelf next to Delilah and add some water to him as well.

“Aren’t you supposed to be packing?” Layla says, appearing in my doorway, face stern. Her baggy grey hoodie and sweats do nothing to dull the intensity of her posture, arms crossed with one hip stuck out touching the doorframe.

I ignore her, grabbing my mister and spritzing my arrowhead vine, Miles, who sits on top of the cluttered bookshelf.

Layla’s foot starts tapping so I turn back to her. She raises an eyebrow at me through her thick, black-framed glasses. My sister can be intimidating when she wants to be.

“Probably, but what’s the point?” I say, plopping down on my unmade bed and leaning back against the wall it’s pushed up against. “We don’t leave till Sunday, and I can’t take my plant babies.” I pick up a lacrosse ball laying in the crumpled mass ofgrey comforter and start throwing it in the air and catching it. “Why bother with the rest?”

Layla rolls her eyes at my dramatics. “Maybe because you only have forty-eight hours till you move out of state, dumbass. Kind of hard to do so, if all your clothes are still strewn about like the after photos of a tornado disaster.” She walks into my room, looking around at the mess I’ve left it in and eyeing the half-filled boxes scattered around. Groaning, she grabs a converse off the floor and tosses it into a box. “You’re not even halfway there.”

I shrug, watching her go around and pick up random things off the floor in an attempt to organize. Her shoulders are tense, and she tugs on the end of her firetruck red-dyed hair every time her hands are free. I continue to study her, watching for the twitch, as I say, “I’ll just wear the same outfit every day. It’ll make it really easy for people to remember me quickly.”

Lay snorts, but the sound feels forced. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll make you super popular on campus. A six-four dork walking around in the same green and blue Hawaiian shirt and ratty old converse, slowly smelling more and more putrid.” She stands up, facing me again. “You’re going to make so many friends.”

I chuckle, glancing over her face to see if anything tics. “I’m six-one, Lay.”

She shrugs. “Whatever.” We may be twins, but I got all the growth genes, coming in at almost half a foot taller than her.

Leaning over to pick up a discarded lime green button up, her shoulder twitches and I lean forward, stomach knotting.

“What’s wrong, Lay?”

Layla startles, standing up quickly and turning away from me to start folding the shirt. “Nothing’s wrong,” she murmurs, draping it over the back of my desk chair.

I roll my eyes, holding the lacrosse ball in my lap. “You’re a shitty liar, sis. You hate packing. Plus, I can feel your nervesfrom here.” Wiggling my fingers at her, I say, “My twin senses are tingling.”

Layla rolls her eyes back, grabbing my favorite purple cardigan off the floor.

I get comfortable on the bed again and wait in silence for a bit, before asking, “What’s up, Layla?”

She huffs, tossing the now folded shirt into a box and plopping down on the empty chair. I lob the lacrosse ball at her, and she catches it. “J is going to be at Imperium Coast.”

The back of my neck prickles at the mention of Janette. Layla isn’t the only one who hasn’t seen her in five years. Tamping down my reaction, I catch the ball when she tosses it back and raise an eyebrow. “Okay,” I lead, but she stays silent. I send the little white sphere back to her hands, but she just throws it back, not saying a word.

Sighing, I throw it back at her. “And that’s got you nervous because?”

She catches the ball in front of her face, dragging it down to her lap and picking at a spot peeling in the seam. “What if we don’t get along anymore?”

I shake my head, but she keeps staring down at the ball in her hands.

“What if it’s been too long and we’ve grown into different people, or seeing me brings up all the feelings of losing her dad again, or seeing her reminds me too much of Mom?” Her voice gets softer as her words speed up. The knot in my stomach loosens a bit but clenches at the mention of Mom. “What if she’s just been writing back to me to be nice and I've been thinking she’s still my best friend this whole time?”

“Layla,” I say, making her look up at me. “You two have been emailing back and forth for five years. No one keeps a tradition like that up forthatlong if they aren’t best friends. And Janette has known us since we were all in diapers on the same playmat. Idoubt she’s going to see you and immediately write you off. She’s not her mom.” My voice hardens at the end.

Lay nods but starts gnawing on her bottom lip as she glances around the room again.

I lean closer to her. “She loves you, Lay. Besides, didn’t you say she doesn’t really have many friends in Georgia?”

“Yeah, she had a tough time after Aunt Sandy moved them down there, so she didn’t really make any close friends. I think she thought her mom would move them back here eventually.” She gets up, leaving my ball on the desk behind her, and starts folding more colorful clothes as she picks them up off the floor. “She’s said a couple times that she’s lonely there and can’t wait to see us all again when we get to the Coast.”

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