Page 32 of The Twins

ACT TWO

“You’ll always be a good boy.”

Remo

SAN RICARDO - 17 YEARS OLD

“Where are you, dipshit?”My brother’s message flares up on my screen. He’s sent me thirty messages, but I have yet to reply. “The party’s about to begin!”

I should be on my way to Dalton’s. He plays basketball with my brother. His parents are out of town, and he’s invited people over. People. Not me.

My brother insists I tag along, but it’s not my scene.

While I can imagine the stench of Dalton’s party after a couple of hours of pot, beer kegs, and used condoms, I’d rather inhale the rotten-egg odor of countless parents, their kids, and college reps squeezed together for hours into our school’s gym.

Instead of going to the party like any sensible boy my age would, I’d rather volunteer for clean-up.

It’ll look good on my resume, won’t it?

My heart caves in. I take a seat on the nearest bench, ignoring the slimy feel of it against my shorts. I need a moment to calm down.

Vegas didn’t show today. Why would he? Mom and Dad allow him to fuck up. It’s me that’s placed on a pedestal.

I must follow in my parents’ footsteps.

Allow me to be enlisted and sent away. The higher I rise within the ranks, the better.

Vegas can afford parties, pregnancy scares, and suspension.

I can’t.

Our parents aren’t strict. They didn’t neglect us. They’re quite frankly perfect.

They didn’t show today because there was no game plan on my end.

My future’s written in stone.

I volunteered at the college fair because I’m a good boy. The White prodigy, leaving Vegas behind. Straight-A student. A GPA to die for. I coded in kindergarten and engineered in elementary school.

I dumb myself down for others to feel better.

Dad thinks I can one day work at the State Department.

How he thinks I’ll accomplish that with a military college education, I have no idea. I’m not one to talk back.

I do what’s expected of me because I don’t want to be the one who breaks the gilded palace that my family comforts itself in. Life’s good. Why push the limits?

Vegas knows how to do it. He thrives going the opposite route.

I want to leave California. I’m sick and tired of the heat. The pretentiousness…

I clench my fists, digging my nails in.

I wish it would hurt some more. Take the edge off. But it doesn’t. I’m too much of a pussy to do anything about this uncontrollable anger that’s been bloating my insides for months now.

Every day that passes, I’m one step closer to a lifetime commitment I don’t want.

I’m a traitor.

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