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Once a Twin

By @writercat383

“Lunchtime!” Holly sings, prancing down the hallway. We stop at her locker and she dumps her books inside. She turns to me. “Wanna sit with me today?”

“Sure,” I answer. I only sat with the popular kids because that’s where Danielle sat (or, more likely, that’s where they sat–with her). Now that it’s just me, I doubt they’ll be ready to welcome me beside them. Already I saw that from the fifteen-minute bus ride. 

She smiles and we walk quickly, trying not to get trampled by the swarms of fellow high-schoolers. Seriously, they should have stop signs, crosswalks, and lights in here. It’s a school zone.

We get to my locker and I stop, quickly twisting the lock and thrusting my stuff inside. I slam it closed. Holly smirks. “That’s how to handle an old car,” she says, “But maybe not a locker.”

I roll my eyes and catch up with her. 

After we’ve headed through the line, picking up hot dogs that look like charred, dehydrated intestines, placing them in buns that might have been fluffy at some point 60,000,000,000 years ago, and letting the lunch ladies plop heaping servings of green beans that look like little worms onto our plates, we sit down at Holly’s usual table, steering away from Liv and her “gang”, who have shortly become the “most-awesomest” girls in the whole school . . . says Morgan Matthews, anyway. 

I crane my neck over the loud kids and see Liv at a table towards the center of the cafeteria. She’s chatting up a storm with a fake smile plastered on her face while she applies fresh hot pink lipstick. Holly sees me looking and says in my ear, “You can put lipstick on a pig, but it’s still a pig.”

I laugh. “What do you have against Liv Farley?”

Holly rolls her eyes. “What’s not to have against her? She’s a brat. An attention-hog. A lipstick-wearing pig.”

We both laugh this time. I tell Holly about our encounter at the funeral home. 

Holly just stares at me seriously. Then she glances back at Liv and her lip curls. “What an *********

“I like you,” I say.

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