talked to Mom about that. I didn’t want to go all the way out there and feel like I’d made some huge mistake. But I’m not going out there for Hannah. I’m going out there because it’s the best school I was accepted to and Hannah being nearby is simply a perk.”
I nod silently, studying my hand clutching my sheets.
She touches my wrist. “And maybe I’m making a mistake. But you have to let me make my own mistakes too, Waylon. And speaking of mistakes, I am really, truly sorry about the video. It wouldn’t have gotten out there if I’d been a little more careful. I know Mom always says I’m the glass half full and you’re the glass half empty, but sometimes I wish I could anticipate the worst like you can. It might have saved you from this whole ordeal.”
I look up at her then, and find her eyes watering and her neck and ears red. All sure signs that she feels awful. “It’s okay. We can’t all wield the power of pessimism. It’s a gift and a burden. Besides, what’s done is done, and who knows? This whole experience might not be the worst thing to ever happen to me. Stay tuned.”
“Are we okay?” she asks, her voice cracking. She timidly draws back a little, preparing herself for whatever my answer might be.
“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I just . . . I feel like this can’t just be magically fixed.” It’s the truth. “It’s going to take me a while to get over all of this. But I need you. I can’t believe I’m doing this prom queen thing. And with Tucker Watson of all people.”
“Tucker? Don’t we hate him for some reason? Remind me again.”
I can’t help but laugh. When it comes to transgressions against me and the ones I love, I’m like a librarian with a perfectly organized catalog of memories. “Ditched me for a group project, forced a teacher to redesign the seating chart so he didn’t have to sit next to me, and most recently, he shushed me.”
“Ugh, what a jerk.” She says it with extra outrage just for me.
“Thank you. Your loyalty is noted and appreciated.” I pull her close to me for a hug, and even though it doesn’t feel the same as it always has in the past, it feels good.
I really don’t know how to get over this and where to go from here, but Clem and I aren’t just friends or regular brother and sister. Being a twin means being there for each other even when your relationship isn’t fully functioning. I think other people would take some time away from each other and really figure out their feelings, but Clem and I live across the hall from each other and we share a car, so we have no choice but to figure this out as we go.
We spend all day vegging out and watching highlight reels of our favorite YouTube videos until it’s almost time for us to get ready. “What are you wearing to this thing tonight anyway?” I ask, reaching for her wavy hair, which still smells like coconut. I might give her a hard time about her braids, but I do love the way they hold the smell of our shampoo like she’s straight out of the shower.
Clem points down at her frayed cutoff jean shorts and Dad’s old undershirt that she cut into a tank top. “This?”
“Um, no,” I tell her. “Negatory on that, captain.”
I stand up and yank her to her feet. “If we’re going to have our Brewer Twins Go to a Gay Bar premiere, we’re going to look fabulous. We have to make a statement.”
“And the statement can’t just be ‘Look at me. I own clothing’?” she asks hesitantly.
“Don’t ruin this for me,” I warn.
Next door, in Clem’s room, I tear through her closet searching for anything we can work with, but it’s mostly jean shorts, black leggings, holey T-shirts, and a few short nineties-throwback dresses that aren’t awful but aren’t great either.
“Does this still fit you?” I ask, holding up a baby-blue spaghetti-strap dress with little daisies all over it.
“Um, that’s the dress Mom made me wear for Easter in seventh grade.”
I throw it at her. “Try it on.”
With my back turned, she does so. “I can’t believe you’re making me try on a dress from middle school. The last time I put this dress on, I didn’t even have boobs. If I even wore a bra