Deadly Design - Emarsan Page 0,3
say something about Connor, she’ll say, “Connor who?”
“I left it there.”
“For a whole week?”
I nod and she laughs, breaking character.
“I better arrange an intervention,” she says. “You’re too wild for your own good.”
“Yep, that’s me.” I turn up the volume on the radio, and she turns it down again.
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Copyright © 2015 by Debra Dockter.
FOR REVIEWING PURPOSES ONLY--NOT FOR SALE
“So, graduation?”
“Graduations are boring. They read a bunch of names, the choir sings a couple of sappy songs, and the band plays like shit.”
“What about his speech? He’s valedictorian. That’s a big deal.”
“I know it’s a big deal,” I say. “Everything in Connor’s life is a big deal. He doesn’t need me around to make it any bigger.”
“But he does.” She reaches over and grabs my arm. “It’s not your fault that you were born second, and it’s not his fault he was born first. He cares about you, and he really wants you there. It’s important.”
We stop at an intersection, and she looks at me. I can’t help but wonder what she sees. I have the same eyes, the mouth, the nose, even the voice—the exact same DNA of the guy she’s madly in love with. I’m just two years younger and too lazy to go to the gym.
“Think about it?” She makes a left turn onto the street where I live. “What about the state track meet?”
Now she’s really pushing it. “I suppose Mom mentioned that to you too, or was it Dad? Well, like I told him, I’m busy Saturday. I signed up to help medical students learn how to perform colonoscopies. So if Connor’s upset that I’m not there, if he wants to know ‘what’s up Kyle’s ass?’ you can tell him I have about a dozen medical students up it.”
She growls, tightening her hands around the steering wheel.
“It’s his last meet.”
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Copyright © 2015 by Debra Dockter.
FOR REVIEWING PURPOSES ONLY--NOT FOR SALE
“So I’m supposed to go cheer him on while he breaks his own record.”
“It’s also his birthday. We’re going out to dinner afterward.”
The car slows, and Emma pulls in front of my house. She places her hand on my arm.
“If you won’t do it for him, do it for me?”
Why does she have to put it that way? Am I that transpar-ent? Can she tell that there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her?
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Copyright © 2015 by Debra Dockter.
FOR REVIEWING PURPOSES ONLY--NOT FOR SALE
Connor’s just getting out of his Jeep in the driveway.
Emma jumps out of the car, runs across the lawn, and throws herself into his arms. Connor spins her around, and she’s flying with her arms tight around his neck and his arms tight around her waist. When they stop, they stand there in the driveway staring at each other like they’re the most gorgeous people in the world, and they can’t help themselves, and that’s pretty much how it is. Hell, Even I can’t stop staring at them as I walk across the lawn toward the front door.
The windows are open on Connor’s Jeep, and the wind has made his hair into a perfect blond mess. My hair is usually just a mess. My face isn’t quite as full as his either. Being an athlete, he packs a lot of food away. He’s always drinking protein shakes and downing giant spoonfuls of peanut butter.
He’s tan too. The lamp in my basement bedroom doesn’t do a lot for my skin tone, but when Connor’s not in school, he’s outside. Sometimes I look at him, and I can’t believe we’re identical twins. Even if I spent hours at the gym or running outside in the sun, no way would I look like him—like Apollo 1 2
Copyright © 2015 by Debra Dockter.
FOR REVIEWING PURPOSES ONLY--NOT FOR SALE
coming down from Olympus to let the mortals bask in my awesomeness.
I reach for the doorknob.
“Kyle.” Connor runs up onto the porch. “We’re going to go walk around the park for a while and then grab a bite. You want to come along?”
“No thanks,” I say, opening the door.
“You sure? We can shoot some hoops or something. Mom texted me that she’s making tuna casserole. Between you and me, I didn’t get the text. Why don’t you come with us?”
I look at Emma. “I better eat here. Evidently I don’t socialize enough with the family.”
Connor follows my eyes. He looks at Emma, at the smirk on her face, then back at me. “Did I miss something?”
“Not a thing,” I say. “You two go ahead.”
“We can bring you back something