The Other Twin

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

*My Most Favorite Person*

There's a reason why teens are crazy about getting a car. No, it's not because you get the freedom to drive wherever you want, that's just a bonus. Take it from me, teens mainly want cars so they can avoid sitting next to random weirdoes on the public bus. I'm not exaggerating, I was sitting between a guy trying to discreetly snip his ear hair, if that's even possible, and a lady trying to dye her eyebrows purple; she kept yelling at the driver every time the bus hit a bump.

After a good twenty minutes of enduring this nonsense, I reached a point in which I'd just lose it. Then the bus would've had to stop to throw me off.

Very inconvenient.

Fortunately I got off the next stop, when I stepped outside I relished the feel of the cool air, even though I was covered in ear hair, insert shudder there and had stained a corner of my shirt purple. Like I said-fabulous. I then trudged the three blocks from the bus station to my street, the whole time plotting of ways to get back at my sister. Maybe I should hide her bottle of Dove conditioner. The she'd have to use normal conditioner.

"Mwah haha." I laughed aloud maniacally at the thought, causing a nearby mother to grab her daughter and run in the other direction. Back to that conditioner idea...

I finally turned the corner to my street and spotted the red convertible that Karyn and I were supposed to share. Keyword supposed. The car was mocking me and on top of that I also spied Scooter's duffel bags, so that meant that 'our' room was currently being occupied with two teenage lovebirds. Gah.

I wasn't up to putting up with that nonsense, so I walked across the street to the more welcoming brown cobblestone home that belonged to one of my most favorite people, Hafiza Manar or Hafsa for short. I rang the bell to the door and waited patiently for Hafsa to open it. Two minutes of anticipated waiting passed and I had to finally accept the fact that she probably wasn't home and I had to face my sister.

"Taryn!" Hafsa's voice squealed behind me, catching me me off guard and making me jump. And because my hand eye coordination is that good, I not only jumped but also took a head dive into her flower bed. Insert sarcasm. Flowers look prettier than they feel, an observation I made as I pulled my head out of the soil and picked off a flattened petal off my cheek. I turned my head to apologize to but puffed out muddy leaves from my mouth instead. Hafsa and I stare at each other and burst into giggles.

"You... should've s-seen your face!" Hafsa gasps out between chuckles.

"So, sorry about... your flowers." I manage to get out before laughing some more. Hafsa flicks away an imaginary tear.

"No problem, you only crashed into a couple." I help put away her gardening tools in the shed, while she rakes away the flowers that I face-palmed, into the compost bin. When she's done, she links her arm through mine and walks us inside. Unlike my own, crisp clean, polished, commercial home, Hafsa's house actually looks lived in. It's not messy, but if you walk in, it has this cozy welcoming feeling and the air always smells like a combination of cherry and vanilla.

"Bismillahir Rahmanir Rahim. Assalamuaikum." Hafsa calls into the empty home loudly. Even though I've become accustomed to this I can't help cocking an eyebrow.

"Why do you say that again?" Hafsa gives me a patient smile. I've asked her this like a hundred times already.

"We say Bismillahir Rahmanir Rahim, so that the devils will not enter the home from outside. And I say Assalamuaikum, to greet the angels." I nodded, awed by how pious she was, just by talking to her I felt so calm and at ease. I realize Hafsa's staring at me.