I am never speaking to my brother again. That is if I don’t kill him first. That is, if my headache doesn’t kill me first.
I wake up in my own bed, unsure of how I got home and unsure of what all I did last night. I know my night started at Patrick’s bonfire, and ended with lots of alcohol, which explains the hangover I am experiencing right now. My first hangover. And I sure hope it is my last, because at the moment I am convinced I am about to puke.
Just as I am trying to piece together my night, Connor storms into my room. He does not knock and he does not lower his voice when I tell him that my head is about to split open. He is wearing different clothes than he was last night, unlike me, but his hair is not brushed and he is wearing his glasses instead of contacts. I remember that I saw him drunk at the bonfire. I want to know how he got away with no hangover, and why he is capable of standing the volume of his own voice right now.
Now he’s standing at the foot of my bed yelling indistinguishable words. All I can hear is the loud volume coming from his mouth and all I know about his purpose for this early morning rage is what information my imagination provides.
“Oh. My. God!” I shout and fumble around underneath my head, looking for something to stop this noise. “Get out!” I pull my pillow down over my ears but it does not stop nearly enough of this racket.
“Why the hell are you going on a date with Dylan?” He asks, very loudly, as he simultaneously yanks the warm blankets off of me. I don’t know why I’m going on a date with Dylan either, but I can’t think about anything through when he is shouting and my legs are cold.
“Stay out of my business!” I yell at him, lifting up a corner of the pillow so I can be sure Connor hears me.
“No way. You’re the one in my business. Dylan is my friend.”
“I don’t even know who Dylan is, dumbass.” Oh. But I do. I met Dylan last night. I kissed Dylan last night. Or was that Michael? I think it was Michael. But Dylan was there, in the basement with all of us.
I try to remember last night, but most of my memory is hazy and some of it is just plain missing towards the end. I do remember going to the bonfire and then to Michael’s house. I remember playing truth or dare, which seemed like an amazing idea at the time. Paige confessed she had tried to seduce Spencer Whiton that night and I kissed Michael on a dare. Slowly, I remember bits of the game as it occurred after that point. Connor might not actually be lying to me right now. Dylan directed used of his turns to ask me “truth or dare” and I said “truth.” Then he asked “will you go out with me, next weekend?” I guess I said yes, if I can deduce anything from Connor's ranting.
I kick my feet out, hoping to make contact with his femur and end his incessant racket, but Connor is smart enough to step back.
“You’re not going on that date.”
“Uh, yes I am.”
And so the stalemate continues
Just so he can get the last word, Connor storms off, and just before he slams my bedroom door shut, he turns and says “No. No you are not.” Then he steps forward and pulls the door handle behind him.
I do not like being told what to do. Especially not by my brother.
YOU ARE READING
Once Again
Teen FictionI have always been defined in terms of my twin sister. For thirteen years, I was known as Allison’s lookalike. For the past three years, I have been the twin that survived. I am forever the twin that did not die. ---- When she was 13 years old, Cara...
