The Twins

Chapter One: Lena

MARYSVILLE, OHIO: Present

"Kyros, if you would just shut up for one second-"

"Where's the fun in that?" My brother asks, laughing. If there's one thing I know my brother enjoys, it's annoying the absolute hell out of me.

I roll my eyes. "I'm trying to study," I tell him. Finals were this week and I'll be damned if I fail even one. Passing high school with the highest grades possible was important to me.

Ky leans back in his chair, tossing a baseball up in the air and catching it again. If our mother were home she would throw a fit. But she isn't. To be honest, my mother is never home. She works two jobs to afford our small, two bedroom trailer home and to feed us. We only ever see her in the mornings before school. Sometimes, I just think it would be better for Ky and I to leave for college earlier than we planned. It would just be easier on her.

It's always just been the three of us. My mother claims that our father passed away shortly after we were born, but somehow I always knew she was lying. I was always secretly searching for our father, but the only man I could find was really old and my brother and I looked nothing like him. I missed the man I didn't know. Our mother doesn't have any pictures of him anywhere. She even claims that they were together for years before Ky and I were even thought of. But where was the evidence?

Ky catches his baseball in his hand then sets it on his desk. "You hungry?" He asks, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

I roll my eyes again and sigh. "Not really, but I should eat a little something, I guess," I tell him.

He grins at me. "Thatta girl," he exults, ruffling my hair. "By the way, if you roll your eyes anymore, they just might roll right out of your head."

"Totally impractical," I say lightly shoving him.

We walk the short distance to our kitchen in silence. I set my books down on the table as Ky prepares dinner. I can't miss one second of studying.

"What are you making?" I ask, not looking up from my review sheet.

"Macaroni and cheese," Ky mutters. "I figured you needed some brain food."

I scoff. "Macaroni doesn't have enough glucose in it to be considered brain food," I tell him.

He shoots me a puzzled look. "Glucose?" His eyebrows furrow.

"Jesus, Kyros. Are you sure you paid attention in AP Biology this semester?" I ask even though I already know the answer.

"Uh, yeah," he says like the answer was obvious.

I shake my head at him as I turn my attention back to my notes. What are six symptoms of Major Depressive Disorder? I start writing my answer without looking at my notes. Loss of interest in activities, mood swings, loss of appetite or excessive hunger, fatigue...

Ky sets my bowl in front of me and I murmur my thanks as we begin eating. It's silent for a while, just the clinking of our spoons against the glass of the bowls the only sound in the whole house. Erm, trailer. Once we are done eating, I offer to clean the dishes because Ky cooked dinner, but he refuses. He grabs my bowl up before I can even think about standing up. He says I need to use my time wisely... for studying. If anyone in this house should be studying, it's him, but I let him do the dishes anyway.

I watch him dry his hands once he has finished. He makes sure to get in between every finger and crevice. It makes me laugh. He looks at me, confused. But he shrugs it off, hanging the towel over the cupboard door beneath the sink.

I pick up my pencil to finish the last question on my study guide, but Ky interrupts me. "What time is your game tomorrow?" He asks while scrolling through his phone.

I frown at him. "Five o'clock, the same as every other game." I pause. "Why?"

"Because I wanted to go," he says without looking up.

I'm taken aback by this. Our game was 45 minutes away in Pickerington, how was he going to make it?

Noticing the obvious question plastered on my face, he answers, "Jack is driving me."

I groan. "Of course he is, who else would drive you?"

He looks up and grins. "Exactly."

I smile back, but it quickly fades. I fumble with my pencil. "I wish mom could come," I mumble.

Ky sighs, leaning forward in his chair and resting a hand on my shoulder. "I know," he says. "Maybe she will come to some of our college games." I know what he's trying to do, but it's not working. The false sense of hope worked on me ten years ago, but not now.

My mother hasn't been to one of my softball games since I was nine-years-old; the same goes for Ky. Our Aunt Jenna always took us to our games. When I got into pitching, my aunt found me a pitching coach, took me to lessons and paid for them. It also helped that Ky was a catcher for the baseball team. I didn't have to find a catcher for the lessons and Ky was always willing to catch me. Well, and work on his framing and blocking technique's. It was a win-win situation.

I shoot a half smile at Ky, hoping it's enough to make him believe that I was okay when, in fact, I'm not.

Ky helps me clean up my books for bed. He even organizes them the way that I like on my desk. I thank him and we both get ready for bed. He brushes his teeth while I change and I brush my teeth while he changes. Then I climb into bed while Ky turns the light off. We say goodnight to each other and fall into a comfortable silence as the night ends.

Ky falls asleep quickly, his snores filling the room. I toss and turn all night until, too quickly, the sun is barely shining through our blinds and our alarm goes off. I lean over and turn it off. I throw my covers off of me then go to wake up my brother. But when I pull the covers back, his bed is empty and cold.

I creep into the hallway until I hear voices. I hang back, hiding just inside the bedroom door frame.

"...mean a lot to her if you came to her game tonight," I hear Ky say as his voice drifts to me. "It could be her last game of her senior career. You weren't even there for her senior night softball game. She was crushed."

I tilt my head to listen for a response. I hear liquid pouring. "Kyros, I am not taking a night off of work just to attend a stupid softball game," I hear my mother say.

My brother sighs, frustration prominent in his voice as he says, "Come on, mom. It's one night."

A glass slams on the counter. "You're being ridiculous," my mother tells him, acid dripping in her voice.

"Ridiculous?" He asks incredulously. Oh no. "I'm being ridiculous? You can't take one stupid night off of work to attend your only daughter's softball game. Which, by the way, would mean the absolute world to her! I know if dad were here, he would be a real parent and come to every single game! Unlike you, who sees work as more important than your damn kids!"

A slap resounds through the house. My hand flies to my mouth as I try to stifle a gasp.

"You will never speak to me that way again, Kyros Anthony. Do you understand me?" My mothers tone is firm. She's not going to be swayed. "I am not going to that softball game and that's final."

I hear footsteps coming down the hallway and quickly duck into my room to avoid my mother's wrath. Once I hear a door slam I know it's safe to assess the damage. I walk out to the kitchen to see my brother leaning against the kitchen table. He turns to look at me and I see it: the hand shaped welt across his left cheek. I lift my hand to touch it, but he stops me.

"You didn't have to do that," I whisper.

He looks at me, tears clouding his golden eyes. "I'll do anything for my baby sister," he whispers back. "Go get ready for school." He pushes away from the table.

I get into the shower, letting the hot water cascade down my back. My mothers words haunt me. I am not taking a night off of work just to attend a stupid softball game. Is that really what she thought about one of the few things I loved? That it was stupid? I wipe a tear away that threatens to escape. I will not cry about this.

I shut the water off just in time to hear Kyros banging on the door. That was his you-have-twenty-minutes-to-finish-getting-ready-so-move-your-ass reminder. Once in my room with the door locked I shuffle through my dresser for some leggings and a hoodie. I dress quickly then braid my hair down my back, pulling some baby hairs around my face to make it seem like I at least tried today. I grab up my book bag and head into the living room.

"Jack is here," Ky states simply as I slip on my tennis shoes.

We climb into Jack's car. He greets us enthusiastically as he does every morning. I return his greeting quietly. The drive is silent, which is odd. Ky stares out the window and Jack glances at him from time to time, giving him a confused look. If he sees the welt on Ky's face, he doesn't say anything. I alternate between staring out the window and glancing back and forth between the two guys. The silence is so suffocating that I practically throw myself out of the car when we park.

As we are walking up to the front doors, Jack throws his arms around the both of us. "This is our last time walking into this high school, you guys," Jack says in mock sadness. "I know you are going to miss me. Especially you, Lena. You know, it's not too late to admit that you're in love with me."

I roll my eyes. "In your dreams, jackass," I say, shoving him.

He keeps his arm around Kyros. "Oh, and who is going to call me 'jackass' when I move away?" He asks starting to fake cry.

I scoff. "Pretty much everyone you will ever meet," I tell him.

He puts a hand over his heart. "You know, that one stung a bit," he says.

I turn around to face him, walking backward. "Oddly enough," I say, "I don't feel bad. Bye."

I turn toward the school once again and speed up my legs, trying to get away from Jack as fast as I can. He's honestly not as bad as I make him out to be. I'm actually quite jealous of him. Jack got a full ride to play baseball for Florida University. While I got a twenty-five percent scholarship to play for West Virginia State University, Ky had his eyes set on Saint Vincent College in Pennsylvania. And wherever Ky goes, I go. I didn't want to lose my best friend.

I hurried to my seat in English for my exam. It was going to be a piece of cake. Then I just have Psychology exam and I was officially done with high school.

I pull out my pencil, but something seems off. Just as I have that thought a man strolls through the door carrying a stack of papers. A weird look must have crossed my face because as he looks at the class his eyes fall on me first and he smiles. I just frowned back. He most definitely is not my teacher. Not that I am complaining though, he looks like he was sculpted from a piece of marble. He is beautiful.

He is pale which makes his raven black hair stand out even more. He's tall and he definitely never misses a day at the gym. His biceps strain against his suit. I glance around at my class. The girls are gawking at him, it's almost embarrassing. I move my gaze back to this mystery man, puzzled by his presence.

He shuffles through the stack of papers he set on the desk and my eyes move to his hands. His fingers are long, precise in their movements. He straightens to address the class and that's when I get a good look at his face. His jawline is strong, cheekbones high. His nose is small, like a button. But when his eyes land on mine, I nearly fall out of my chair. Gold. It looked like someone had melted two gold bars and put them into his eye sockets. The only other people I know with that color eyes are my brother and myself. Our mother told us we got the color from our father and we never questioned it twice.

He pushes his hair out of his face before speaking. "Good morning, everyone," he greets us. His voice is deep, but soothing at the same time. "Unfortunately, Miss Krawford could not be here this morning so I will be administering your final exam today. If you have any questions, don't be afraid to approach me at the front desk. Please sharpen your number two pencils now if you need to and good luck."

He begins walking around the room handing out the final exams. All I can do is watch him. He hands out the exams one by one, offering a smile and "good luck" to each student. When he gets to me, he doesn't say anything, just smirks at me. He walks back to the desk and sits down in the chair. He pulls a book out of his bag before he props his feet up on the desk and begins to read.

Focus, I think. I grip the pencil hard between my fingers. I'm having a hard time concentrating as, throughout the exam, I find my eyes drifting back to the attractive man sitting behind Miss Krawford's desk. Who is he? And why are his eyes the same exact color as mine?

I shake my head in an attempt to scatter my thoughts about this guy. The next hour and a half is torture. I practically sweat bullets and the man at the desk catches me looking at him at least 6 times. When the bell finally rings I am so relieved to be turning in my exam and leaving. But oh, that is just too easy because as I am turning away from the desk his hand lands softly on my shoulder.

I turn back ever so slightly to look at him. "What's your name?" He asks quietly.

I give him a weird look. "Lena," I tell him. "Hartley."

He smirks at me before writing something down in a notebook and quickly closing it.

Ultimately, curiosity gets the best of me. "What are you writing?" I ask defensively.

His eyes meet mine for a second as he packs his stuff up. "Just a bit of information," he says innocently.

I breathe out a short laugh. "What information?" I ask.

"Just some information for Principal White on your test taking skills," he tells me, a hint of humor in his voice. He stands up and slings his bag over his shoulder. He looks me dead in the eye as he says, "I'm sure he will want to know all about how his star pupil failed her English exam because she couldn't take her eyes off the handsome substitute." He turns and stalks off into the hallway before I can say another word.

I quickly follow him to give him my best comeback, but when I make it into the hallway he is nowhere to be seen. And I am left with the question of what the hell actually just happened?