Page 20 of The Two of Us

7

THEN (AGE 12)

“I’m not doing it.”

“Come on, Ambrose. Please?”

“Not a chance. I told you guys I’d be Harry Potter, but this is too weird.”

“I told you a million times why we can’t do those costumes. Right, Mara?”

I look up from the book in my lap, taking in my favorite brother-sister duo. I’m no stranger to their disagreements, so tuning them out has become second nature.

We’re lounging on the floor in Cat’s room on the night before Halloween. Tiny orange pumpkins lie haphazardly around the room while felt bats hang from her ceiling. Cat loves all holidays, but Halloween is her favorite. She always says it’s the one time of year you can pretend to be someone you aren’t and get rewarded for it. And with candy of all things. I look forward to the hot apple cider, the pumpkin donuts and jumping out of dark corners to make Cat pee her pants, but the candy doesn’t hurt either. It’s our second year doing group costumes and this year Cat begged Ambrose to join in.

Our costume plans were solid until Cat called an emergency meeting after school today. Apparently, Cat heard from Sarah Winters, who heard from Caleb Santos, who heard from Macy Lang, that the Robertson triplets are also planning on being the iconic movie trio for Halloween. It’s a popular series and Speck Lake’s a small town, so it’s not surprising that our costume idea has overlapped with other kids.

“I think we can still do it if we really want to, but I get why you think the Robertsons will look better, them being triplets and all,” I say, attempting a Switzerland approach.

“And this new costume idea is perfect,” she says. “It’s different. No one will forget it.”

“Of course, no one will forget it! Who would forget seeing three people walking around as the human personification of Rock, Paper, Scissors?” Ambrose replies incredulously.

I fake a cough to cover the laugh bubbling in my throat. I don’t mind the untraditional costume idea Cat came up with, but it is a bit odd.

“Besides,” he continues, “I’m thirteen now. A teenager. You two are too young to understand but my friends would tear me apart if they saw me in a costume that ridiculous.”

Cat and I blink at him, taken aback. Ambrose has never given a second thought to what anyone thinks about him, much less about what people might think seeing him with us. It’s the first time he’s emphasized the year between us and it feels as though an invisible line has been drawn in the sand.

I hate it.

The air grows heavy with tension and he scratches his ear in discomfort. I see the anxiety amplifying within him and I worry he’ll need to grab his inhaler from his backpack. Cat masks her hurt, adopting a flippant attitude.

“Fine. Mara and I will go as rock and scissors and you can dress up as a teenager or whatever it is you want to be these days,” Cat huffs.

She gathers the scraps of notebook paper off the floor where she’d doodled costume ideas and jotted down pros and cons in the margins. I watch, torn and unsure on how to remain Switzerland in this particular moment. Ambrose’s words hurt me too, but I’m not brave enough to voice it. Uncertainty mars his face as he watches Cat gather her things. Without a word, she grabs my hand, pulling me to my feet, and I realize this is the part where we dramatically storm out.

“Wait!” Ambrose calls.

We pause at the doorframe.

“You both understand where I’m coming from, right?”

Cat’s spine straightens with confidence and I follow suit.

“No. But maybe you can explain it to us when we’re older.”

We leave and don’t look back, all the while contemplating why we’ve just excommunicated ourselves from Cat’s own bedroom.

***

I’m securing the elastics on my French braids while Cat laces up her knee-high Converse and I’m wondering how we got here. We match in black long-sleeved tops and tights as the base of our costumes. Thanks to the help of my dad and two rolls of Scotch tape, we were able to cut out cardboard shapes of a rock and scissors before securing them to our chests. We look absolutely ridiculous. I remind myself that at the end of the day, it’s about fun. And no matter what I wear, if I’m with Cat, tonight will be just that.

“You look perfect, rock.” Cat smiles.

“You don’t think I look like a potato?”

“Definitely not.”

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