The Lost Twins

Chapter one

Gio's pov

I stood in front of the school building that afternoon with my twin sister, Alessandra. We began walking home, if you could even call it that. Ali and I are in foster care and have been since we were six. Our mom passed away when we were six and we had no other family to take care of us. We've bounced from home to home, we've been in ten homes in the last seven years. There were times that we were separated from each other and times we were together. The time we were apart was the worst, Ali doesn't really talk and she has refused to talk to anyone in the homes or at school, she only really talks to me. Meanwhile, I would just get angry and fight with everyone because they wouldn't let me see Ali. That's why we've bounced around so much because I fight and Ali doesn't talk. 

After a short ten minute walk, we end up at the front door of a ranch style house. It was decent but it just wasn't home. Our true home was with our mom and that home and life disappeared along with her. I opened the door and we walked in, we set down our bags, took our shoes off and headed into the kitchen. In the kitchen we found our foster mother, Megan and foster siblings, Preston, Molly and Willow. Preston and Molly go to the same school as me and Ali but they refuse to be seen with us, we walk to and from separately and we don't talk to each other during school. Basically, we avoid them at school and no one knows that they're our foster siblings. Willow is in high school and doesn't like Ali and I so she avoids us also. Megan is fine, she just loves her kids more than Ali and I and she shows it all the time. They do family things together and we're not invited, she makes lunch for the others and not us, and she will ignore us sometimes. The foster dad, Mark is just never home so he doesn't really care about us either. 

"How was school?" Megan asked, 

"Fine," I said, 

"Alessandra, did you eat all of your lunch?" Megan asked, Ali nodded, 

"Alessandra, I can't look at you all the time, you need to speak," Megan said,

 "She said yes," I said, 

"And you can't make your brother answer for you," Megan said, 

"She never talks, she's just a mute freak," Molly said, 

"Shut up," I said, 

"Giovanni, you do not talk to us like that," Megan said,

 "She called Ali a freak and you're not gonna say anything?" I asked,

 "You watch your tone with me, boy, or I'll kick you out of this house," Megan said, 

"Do it, we hate it here," I said, 

"Fine, pack your stuff and I'll call your social worker again," Megan said, 

"FINE!" I yelled.

I took Ali's hand and dragged her behind me to "our" room. I pulled Ali into the room and shut the door, I locked us in and looked at Ali. She had sat herself in the corner of the room with her knees drawn to her chest and her head on her knees. I went and sat down next to her, I hugged her and rubbed her back. Ali was diagnosed with anxiety when we were seven, after everything with our mom and the foster homes, it came as no surprise to me. Because of her anxiety, Ali only really talks to me and only sometimes. I do the talking for us so she won't have a panic attack. We also made up our own system, I ask Ali where she's at right now and she'll give me a number on a scale of one to ten. One is happy, two is calm, three is getting sad, four is sad, five is neutral, six is getting nervous, seven is nervous, eight it scared, nine is anxious and ten is overwhelmed. When she tells me six or more, then I can help her calm down. 

"Where are you at right now, Ali?" I asked,

 "Nine," Ali mumbled, 

"We'll be okay, we always are," I said,