Page 9 of We Shouldn't Be Together
I grimace at her. “Morbid much?”
Dad chuckles, his arm pulling around me tighter. “Yeah, Grace. I was just worried about my nervous system.”
“And you don’t think it’s all connected?” Mom replies.
“Guys, we’re leaving the hospital,” I say. “Can we cut the medical talk?”
“Keep us away from this place, and we will,” Mom says with a knowing smile.
And even though Dad still has an arm around me, I manage another eye roll at my mother.
The car ride home is pretty quiet, sitting in the backseat as Mom and Dad yammer about what to make for dinner. Soon we’re home, and Mom tells me my friends are upstairs.
“They are?” I question.
“Mm-hmm,” she replies, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Milo let them in.”
“Oh.” On a day which includes getting stitches, it’s sad to say it’s more surprising that my bookish, loner brother let my loudmouth friends into the house.
Actually, it’s surprising my parents didn’t drag my twin brother to the hospital with them.
“Is Milo still here?” I ask, following my parents into the house through the garage’s side door.
“Of course he is,” Dad replies. “Where else would he be?”
Library. Hiding out at school. Nerdy store where you buy War Hammer figurines.
We move into the open-plan living room, and when I turn toward the dining area, Milo walks out with a glass of OJ.
Milo stops short, stumbling forward and almost losing his juice. He corrects himself, looks me up and down, and adjusts his glasses against his ear. “You okay?”
“Meow,“ Milo’s ginger long-haired cat named Alfred calls after him. His poofy tail sways in the air as waddles behind Milo.
I rub the space above my elbow where they patched me up. “All good.”
He gives a single nod. “That’s good.”
I throw a hand his way. “See,“ I tell my parents. “This is how you’re supposed to react to my injuries.”
Milo’s brow lifts with mild intrigue. “What happened?”
“Just an unhinged rollercoaster of emotions where they went from threatening to take my car away, to group hugging me on the way out of the hospital.”
Milo winces and shakes his head at our parents. “You guys are too much.”
I move toward the staircase. “They’re headcases.”
“Would you two prefer it if we loved you less?” Mom asks with a scoff.
“Yes,” Milo and I answer at the same time.
Supposedly, Milo and I are identical twins. But, umm, apparently I took up too much space in the womb, which is why Milo’s an inch shorter than me. And then there’s the whole wrapping of my umbilical cord around his neck, thing. I definitely don’t see how I could’ve done that on purpose. The unborn-baby-version-of-me didn’t know it’d result in Milo’s vision issues, hand-eye coordination issues, and his general clumsiness.
I bound upstairs, and the hyper voices of my friends come into focus as they argue and yell.
“King Kai is back!” Jamie cheers, throwing her hands up in triumph as I join them in the upstairs living room.
“Hey James,” I say, chewing my lip to avoid smiling too big. “Hey guys.”
