Twintastrophe

Jack: The Joker Strikes Again

The soil shifted between my toes and I tilted my head back, platinum blonde tresses cascading down my shoulders. Exhaling loudly, I stretched my arms up to the morning sky, feeling all of my bones snap back into place.

"What are you, a cat?" A soft but authoritative feminine voice asked, sounding almost irritated. I hummed in response, spinning on my bare heel to face the naturally tan girl in the doorway of a modern Victorian house. "What are you doing up at this ungodly hour?" Addison asked, running a hand through her sandy blonde hair.

"I was getting some exercise before school started," I lied, approaching the tree swing tied to the lowest branch of the only tree planted near the house.

Addison scoffed, stuffing her feet in a pair of old flip flops and hopping down the stairs gracefully. "You and exercise don't belong in the same sentence. What's really got you up?"

I managed a small smile at my twin as she sat next to me on the swing. Deciding not to answer the question, I simply placed my head on her shoulder, her hair tickling my cheek. I could almost feel her roll her eyes at my silence but she dropped her head on top of mine without any argument.

Just you wait mom and dad. We'll make you proud this time.

~2 hours later~

"JACK!"

I snickered as my name echoed through the bare walls of the house, shrugging innocently as Betsie gave me a look. Addison barreled into the kitchen, face flushed and eyes narrowed. In her fisted grip was the result of my early awakening.

"What. Did. You. DO?" She fumed, each word coming out as it's own individual line. Slowly, as if holding herself back, she held up a shirt that was five sizes too small for her.

I blinked, widening my eyes as I spooned some Captain Crunch Berries into my mouth. Chewing slowly, I pushed my chair away from the kitchen island, sliding off my stool. "No. Idea. What. You're. Talking. About," with each word, I took a step closer to Addison. Her hazelnut brown eyes turned predatory and a deep growl escaped her mouth.

"Down girls," Betsie giggled, sitting down in front of a plate of buttered toast and eggs with two white pills on a napkin next to a glass of orange juice. "Jack, loan Addison something of yours because of your 'mistake.'"

I opened my mouth to complain but Addison cut in first. "Gray cropped cable knit sweater. The one I got you for Christmas." It was my turn to narrow my eyes at her, crossing my arms over my chest. Addison knew I loved that sweater; I had fawned over it for 5 and a half months.

"Black slouchy beanie. One Betsie got you for your birthday," I demanded. Addison nibbled on her bottom lip, considering it before thrusting her empty hand out to me.

"Deal," she caved.

I grinned, placing my hand in her own and pumping it robotically. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"I never want to do this again," she assured me, releasing my hand. Checking the time on the microwave, Addison's eyes widened. "Fifteen minutes until school starts," she explained, transferring her weight to her other foot.

"I only need 10," I betted, eager for a challenge and a distraction from the impending doom that was senior year. "Wanna see who gets dressed faster?"

She beamed, easing her way to the stairs. "You're so on." With those parting words, Addison shot up the spiral staircase, me hot on her heels. I raced down the hall and turned left where Addison turned right. Pausing for a second, I glanced upwards at the mural of the night sky the overtook my entire ceiling and the tacky, glow in the dark stars littering the walls. Betsie told Addison and I that the mural and stickers were all she had left of her five-year-old niece Mary that had unfortunately died of lung cancer on the day of her sixth birthday. Smiling up at the ceiling, I sent a little greeting to Mary before continuing the challenge.

Ransacking my draws, I pulled out a pair of ripped, black, skinny jeans, draping it over my chair. Diving into the pile of shirts by my bed, I desperately searched for my lacy white blouse. Triumphantly holding it up, I smoothed down the black Peter Pan collar and tossed it onto my queen size bed.

"I win!" Addison announced, waltzing into my room. True to her word, Addison was dressed in a cream skater skirt and a long, hot pink, tube top that would peek out from underneath my sweater. A pair of cherry red ballerina flats adorned her feet as if mocking me.

"I hate you," I declared, finding the sweater amongst my mess and throwing it at her head. She pulled it on over the tube top, flipping blonde strands of hair out of the neckline.

Ignoring my statement, she danced over to the full body mirror leaning against my closet door and spun around in front of it. "I feel complete," she declared, brushing imaginary lint off of her skirt.

"You look stupid," I lied, stripping down and changing quickly. Addison looked as stunning as ever, her dark hair color complementing her tanned skin and hazelnut brown eyes. Her slim but curvy figure and endless legs seemed to attract male attention of all ages. All in all, my sister was a perfect replica of our dad but with the "no-funny-business" attitude of mom.

I, on the other hand, was a daddy's girl with our sarcastic ways and our addiction to pranks. I was shorter than my sister by 2 inches, standing at only 5 foot 7 and I was slightly curvier in the hip area but still relatively thin despite my overwhelming sweet tooth. My hair was lighter than Addison even with my natural brown roots. I made up for my lack of darkness with my coffee-colored eyes that often reminded children of shit as they announced to their unsuspecting parents/guardian.

Knotting my hair up into a messy ponytail, I grabbed my owl print, canvas backpack and hoisted it over my shoulder. "Let's go, let's go, let's go!" I demanded, shoving Addison out of my room and into her own.

"Girls!" Betsie called up, "You've got 5 minutes left!"

Cursing under my breath, I jogged down the stairs quickly and grab the keys to my bike. "Addison!" I hollered. "Get your fat ass down here!"

"Language!" Betsie yelled back at the same time Addison shouted, "My ass is not fat!" Grumbling under her breath, Addison jumped down the remaining stairs and tossed a piece of material at me. I caught it with one hand, stuffing it in my bag.

Noting the keys in my hand, Addison grimaced. "Do we have to ride that dumb motorcycle of yours? You drive like a maniac." Whistling, I twirled the keys around my finger, I strutted to the garage, my black Doc Martens hitting the floor each time with a soft thud.

"I don't see anyone else with a license here," I teased. Addison could do a lot of things amazingly; sing, chose outfits, bake (my personal favorite.) The one thing that seemed to escape her was driving.

Pouting, she crossed her arms over her chest. "It was only one time! And that hot dog man shouldn't have parked his cart in the middle of the road."

"And you see, darling sister," I sarcastically cooed, placing a hand on her shoulder. "This is the reason I drive and you don't."

"You should have your license taken away from you especially with all the pedestrians you scare off the road and all the red lights you ignore."

I shrugged indifferently, swinging my leg over the sleek, black, Suzuki sv650 and held my bag out for Addison to take. "What the police don't know won't hurt them." Begrudgingly, my sister yanked the bag out my hands and shifted her own beige, leather, backpack purse to one shoulder to make room for mine. Sliding the red helmet off the handlebar, I held it out to her. Asking no questions, she shoved it on her head, complaining about how her hair would look as an aftermath. Placing her hands on the seat to steady herself, she copied my previous actions and settled down onto the seat.

"Please don't kill me," she uttered as I revved the engine. I smiled at her words, knowing she wasn't worried in the slightest.

"No promises," I responded, gunning it out of the garage.