Deadly Design - Emarsan Page 0,2
to graduation?” Emma says once my seat belt is buckled.
I half expect the door locks to engage, to trap me in the car for the conversation I don’t care to have.
“Connor needs you there. You’re his brother, his twin. This is really important to him and your parents.”
“You and my parents talked about this?”
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Copyright © 2015 by Debra Dockter.
FOR REVIEWING PURPOSES ONLY--NOT FOR SALE
“Just your mom.”
“Then why doesn’t she talk to me?”
Emma hesitates. “You know your mom doesn’t like conflict.”
“What conflict? My mom and I never fight.”
“You don’t talk that much either. She doesn’t want to push you away. She doesn’t want you spending even less time with the family.”
“I eat supper with them every night,” I say, trying not to sound pissed, but I kind of am. “I watch movies with them on the weekend. I let you and Connor drag me around.”
“Sometimes,” she says.
“I’m sixteen. Eating dinner with my parents is as social as I’m supposed to be. Besides, I have interests. ”
“You mean video games?”
How can I explain to her that “video games” aren’t just games to me? I’m good at them. I’m damn good at them. Online players beg to have me on their teams. They schedule their playing times around mine because no one can kick ass on Call of Duty like I can. But compared to Connor’s history of athletic domina-tion, who gives a shit if my kill-to-death ratio is off the charts.
“I don’t want to make you mad,” Emma says. “I just want everyone to be happy.
I scoff as a giant-ass pickup truck pulls up next to us.
“Will you at least think about going?” she asks.
How can I make her understand why I don’t want to go?
Yeah, we may be twins, but we’re not twins in the traditional sense. Even if it weren’t for the age difference, Connor and I 7
Copyright © 2015 by Debra Dockter.
FOR REVIEWING PURPOSES ONLY--NOT FOR SALE
still wouldn’t look exactly alike. He has six-pack abs and giant biceps. And he’s super smart, super athletic. He’s super everything, and I’m . . . good at video games.
“Why don’t you want to go?”
I look at her like it’s a stupid question, because it is a stupid question.
“I’m serious. And don’t tell me it’s your pride, because that’s bullshit. You are not supposed to be your brother. You are two different people, and that’s good. Besides, if you and Connor were carbon copies of each other, how on earth would I be able to choose between you?”
She gives me a coy little smile.
“Do you have any lemon juice?” I ask. “I just found a paper cut on my finger I’d like to pour some into.”
“I just meant that you’re both special people. Connor is like my Clark Kent, my Superman. He’s perfect.” Emma’s eyes stare out over the dashboard, but I know from the way she’s smiling, her face beaming, that she’s seeing more than the after-school traffic. “He’s the most perfect person in the world, and we’re perfect together.” She looks at me, and she’s so happy. And I’m happy for her. I really am. “And you,” she says. “You’re like James Dean.”
“James who?”
“Dean. James Dean. He’s the quiet but tough guy. He doesn’t need anybody else, doesn’t care about what anybody else thinks. He’s a bad boy.” She gives me a sideways glance.
I consider this, then nod in agreement. “Yep, that’s me. I’m bad to the bone.”
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Copyright © 2015 by Debra Dockter.
FOR REVIEWING PURPOSES ONLY--NOT FOR SALE
“Oh, yeah,” Emma says. “Tell me something you’ve done, bad boy.”
I think for a minute, but I don’t have to think for long because I’ve been so notoriously bad. “Last week, I was playing Call of Duty online. It wasn’t just me. I was playing on a team.
I had guys relying on me, and I realized that I’d been chewing the same piece of gum for over two hours.”
“Two hours?” She’s already amazed, her eyes wide with disbelief.
“I couldn’t leave the game. I couldn’t let my guys down, but it was disgusting—like chewing on a rubber band. So you know what I did?”
“What did you do? Tell me.”
“I took it out of my mouth.”
“And then?”
“I stuck it on the nightstand. Yeah, that’s right. I didn’t put it in the trash. I could have. It was only a few feet away, but no.
I stuck it there, and guess what?”
“What?” she says, like she can’t take it. Like she wants to speed all the way home so she can rip my clothes off, and if I