Weekend - By Christopher Pike Page 0,59

you've recorded nothing. You forgot to remove the PAUSE button. It's just as well. I recorded a song on that tape that I wanted to play at this party."

Michael relinquished his command readily, giving the switchblade to Sol and the recorder to Robin. Park picked up the rifle but he didn't know whether he was supposed to point it at anyone or not. Michael was his old charming self. It had all been an act, and it seemed as if a great burden had been lifted from him.

Vaguely, Shani could guess what it had been.

Robin played her song:

"Blackbird, singing in the dead of night, Take these broken wings and learn to fly.

All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise..."

When the song was over, everyone agreed that Robin had never sounded better. When the chatter died down, Shani said to Michael, "I know who you are." Eyebrows were raised around the room, but he was not surprised. "You're Luke Skywalker." She pointed at Robin. "And she's Princess Leia."

"You're right," Park gasped, turning from one to the other.

"Do I have to be Paul Bunyon again?" Bert asked.

"What's she talking about?" Robin asked, not having a clue.

Like a royal subject, Michael waited at her feet. "We were born together," he said. "I am your twin brother."

"It's true," Lena whispered, seeing the resemblance, which should have been clear from the beginning.

Robin did not shout or cry out. Her joy was beyond flagrant emotions. "Before I got sick and had it cut, my hair was like yours," she said, running her bony fingers once through his dark curls. "I should show you a picture of myself from last year. We looked alike, then."

"I would like to see it," Michael said.

"How did you find me?" she asked.

"Our mother always knew where you were."

Robin sucked in a breath. "She's alive! And our father?"

Michael shook his head. "He died in a car accident before we were born. That's why all this has been...

the way it has been. Above all else, Robin, you have to understand that your mother loves you. She's a wonderful woman."

"Oh, I believe you! I do."

"But you want to know why she let you go?"

"I didn't want to ask. But, yeah, I'd like to know."

Michael took a deep breath, preparing himself for a speech. "She was young. When our father died, her world collapsed. This was only days before we were born. She had no money, no family, no insurance.

When we came along, a local paper wrote about her tragedy, focusing upon us in particular. A wealthy and powerful man was in England at this time. His name was Samuel Carlton. Recently, his wife had come to the decision - biologically too late in life - that she wanted children. Neither of them was used to waiting for what they wanted. A year for a typical adoption was too long. Besides, they were both too old and probably wouldn't have qualified. When we were five days old, Mr. Carlton sent a man to the hospital offering our mother a huge sum in exchange for her baby girl and her signature on some papers.

Our mother had not expected twins. She wasn't yet twenty. She wasn't sure how to take care of even one baby. The money was a fortune to her. Without having read them, she signed the papers."

"That would have been the end of it but for a picture of Mrs. Carlton and her recently adopted daughter printed, without her permission or knowledge, on the back pages ofThe Times ten days later. Our mother recognised the baby girl. As a result, she knew who had bought you."

"Years went by. When we were six, our mother married a nice, boring accountant. I call him Dad, but we don't have much in common. Mum never had any other children. But she did subscribe to a newspaper from Santa Barbara, paying a faithful monthly sum to have it delivered to Plymouth, collecting clippings of a growing girl named Robin Carlton. Later, she told me how happy she had been when she had read that you had a sister. However, during this time I never knew I had a sister. Oh, this will surprise you: 'Robin' was the name you were given at birth."

"When we were twelve, our mother's guilt must have caught up with her. She wrote to Mr. and Mrs.

Carlton requesting permission to visit you. They were aghast that their identity had become known to her.

Their reply was a venomousno . They threatened