Marietta stared up at me. “What are you talking about?”

“It isn’t worth it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You. You aren’t worth fighting for. Hey, Keith! I changed my mind. She’s all yours.”

I pushed Marietta toward Keith and turned to shove my way through the crowd that was still crushed into the doorway.  But Marietta wasn’t about to let me go. 

She grabbed my shirt and yelled, “You pig!” 

I turned to face her and her nails raked the side of my neck. 

I slapped her hard across the face. She staggered back, swearing at me.

“Somebody told me you had no class,” I said. “I hit him for saying it, but I guess he was right after all. My sympathies, Keith.” 

I turned and pushed through the crowd. A couple of girls asked me to come dance with them, but I didn’t stop. 

It was only when I got to the door that I remembered my jacket. When I yelled, Ted came running to give it to me. 

“Wow, you really hammered him,” Ted said.

“Yeah.” 

Maybe I should have felt good about it, but for some reason I didn’t. Maybe because of Marietta. 

“You going?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Want me to come?”

“No. You stay. Have a good time. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You sure you’re okay? I could come if you want.”

“Tomorrow,” I repeated more firmly. Then I walked quickly away in the direction of my house.

I slowed down after a few blocks. 

The adrenaline that had come surging up when I faced Keith had seeped away, and I felt sick to my stomach. Ahead of me was a small children’s park. In the cold darkness, the swings hung lifelessly and the slide and jungle gym stood empty. They looked lonely and deserted, just the way I felt. 

My feet turned in. Walking over to the wooden jungle gym, I grasped two of the poles, spread out my feet, and leaned my head against the hard wood. My whole body was heaving. I heard sobs, and felt wetness on my cheeks. For maybe five minutes, I just stood there, crying like I was a little lost kid. Finally, I got control again and wiped my face with the sleeve of my jacket. I remembered the rip in it and wondered if it could be fixed.

Suddenly, I realized someone might have seen me. I hurriedly looked around. But only the dark images of the playground stared back. I was all alone.

I sat on one of the swings—something I hadn’t done for years. Idly, I moved the swing back and forth. Funny. Things were so easy when you were a kid. They didn’t really prepare you for now, when you were nearly grown up and life seemed to take one punch after another, not even giving you time to get set in between. This past year, everything had gone wrong. Like somebody changed all the rules without bothering to tell me. Or maybe it was me. Maybe I had changed. After all, Sandy seemed to be doing okay.

My eyes blurred and I shoved my feet against the sand so the swing moved crazily. Why did I always wind up thinking about my twin?

I stopped the swing and stood up. I kicked viciously at the sand, but all I did was get some of it in my shoe.

After I’d put the shoe back on and put my collar up so no one would see the scratches, I started walking. It was beginning to snow—large flakes that glided softly from the heavens and melted where they lay. 

But I barely noticed the snowflakes. I had beaten Keith. Big deal. He was likely high on something and I had taken advantage of it. Beating him didn’t change the fact that Marietta had dumped me. I was still going to have to put on an act so everybody would think I didn’t care. I was sick of it! Always trying to put on an act. But what else could I do? I couldn’t let anyone know how I really felt inside. They’d all laugh at me. After all, I was Shane Donahue; I was supposed to be tough; or so I’d wanted everyone to think.

I reached the street and kept moving, one foot in front of another. Stupid thoughts raced through my mind. What would happen if a car should come racing along and skid on the ice and run over me? Would this pain deep inside go away? 

As if on command, the headlights of a car appeared, coming straight toward me, shining on the falling snowflakes so that they looked like enormous white feathers floating down from a gigantic cloud pillow fight in the sky.

The car, an old, blue station wagon, was going slowly and it didn’t skid. Instead, the driver slowed to a stop and a head appeared out of the window.

A female voice said, “Need a lift?” 

I stared through the darkness, trying to make out her identity. Short, dark brown hair, an expressive face....

“Do you want a ride?” she asked again, and this time I placed her. Janice Hopkins. I knew her name, but she was two years below me in school, and she wasn’t one of Sandy’s or my friends.

But what the heck? 

I moved toward the car, and she said, “It is Shane, isn’t it?” Her voice was soft and musical.

“Yeah.”

“You look cold.”

I shrugged.

“Do you need a ride? I mean, you seem to be walking and.... Well, I’ve got my dad’s car tonight, so if you need a ride, I know where you live.”

I got in. As we started moving, I sat wondering what to say. I wasn’t exactly in a talkative mood. Still, I had to say something. “Your dad let you have the car much?”

“I just got my license two weeks ago. You have your own car, don’t you?”

“More or less.”

“What?”

“I have a car, but I’ve had three speeding tickets, so I can’t drive it for two weeks. My father’s idea. You had a ticket yet?”

She shook her head.

“I wouldn’t mind getting them if my parents didn’t find out. They think it’s some big deal.”

“Don’t you lose your license if you get too many?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

We lapsed into silence again. 

“You’re in Weaver’s class, aren’t you?” I asked after a while. “Home room, I mean.”

“Yes.”

“He’s weird, huh? I had him two years ago.”

Her eyes were focused straight ahead as she concentrated on driving. “He’s okay.” 

I gazed at her in disbelief. Anyone who thought Weaver was okay had to be a little strange herself! 

She glanced over and laughed. Her laugh was carefree and melodic, and I remembered hearing it in the hallways and wondering what she was like.

“Okay, he is a bit weird,” she conceded. “But he’s a good teacher if you ignore his eccentricities.”

“If you say so.”

Her eyes twinkled. Then she was watching the road again, stopping for a red light, and driving very carefully.

We were close to my house, so I gave directions and Janice stopped in front. “Well, thanks for the ride.” I got out and started toward the house. Then I thought about facing my parents and changed my mind. I stopped dead.

“Shane?” She hadn’t driven away.

I turned back towards the car, walked around to her side and opened the door. “I’ve got a better idea. Let’s go someplace.”

Janice batted her lashes and smiled. “Sure, why not?”

“Move over and let me drive. The roads are getting slippery.”

“Oh, come on. Your dad won’t let you drive your car, so I should let you drive mine? What if you got a speeding ticket? Then my dad would have a fit. Besides, he told me not to let anyone else drive.”

I swore. Then I tried again, “So what? You don’t have to tell him.”

“But if he found out, he might never let me have the car again. And, anyway, why should you drive instead of me? I’m safe.” She glanced up at me from under those long lashes and said provocatively, “What’s the matter? Don’t you think I can drive?”

Embarrassed, I scuffed the road with the toe of my running shoe. “Naw, it’s not that.”

“Don’t you like to have a girl drive you?”

I grinned guiltily.

“Chauvinist.”

I stood holding the door open.

“Chicken,” she said.

I shut the door and walked around to the passenger side. After a second, I got in. 

“Are you going to open the doors for me, too?” I asked.

“Not on your life.”

“I take it that means you won’t pay, either?”

She looked at me sideways and then smiled. “Not unless I have to. I’m not crazy about doing dishes.” 

I laughed. I felt good for the first time today. Maybe things weren’t so bad after all.

I directed her to the parking lot at a nearby McDonald’s and laughed again at the way she maneuvered the car. Then I got out and opened the door for her. As she stepped out, she reached down, scooped up a handful of snow, and jumped up to shove it down the back of my neck.

“Hey, what was that for?”

“For being a rotten back seat driver.”

“Tough girl, huh?”

“I’ve got three brothers.”

“Lucky you. One’s enough for me. More than enough!”

She gave me a funny look, but didn’t ask any questions.

“Come on, I’m starved.” I grabbed her hand. “You hungry?”

“Not really.”

“I am.”

We found a table in a corner and I ordered a hamburger and two milkshakes. I ate slowly, talking about school and teachers and people we both knew. She noticed the top of the scratches and asked. I just said I had scratched myself on a fence. She gave me a funny look, but didn’t say anything more. Just kept playing with her straw, barely touching her milkshake. I finally finished it for her. Then I stretched. “Well, are you ready to take me home?”

Janice laughed. “That doesn’t sound quite right, does it?”

“Well, if you think I’m going to go with you to your place and then walk home, you’re crazy. Tell you what, you can phone me when you get there. That way I’ll know you’re okay.”

We walked slowly back to the car. Janice had the keys in her hand, so I took them and opened the door to the driver’s side. But I stood in her way. “You still want to drive?”

She smiled. “If you didn’t get speeding tickets you’d be driving your own car.”

“If I’d been driving my own car, I might not have met you.”

She laughed. “Maybe I’d have made you meet me.”

“Oh, really? What would you have done? Asked me out?”

“You’ll never know.”

I leaned forward to take her hand and she didn’t draw back. Then I looked into her eyes for a second. There was no sign of unwillingness, so I kissed her cheek. She turned her face up and I kissed her. Then I moved out of the way. “Okay, you drive. Here are the keys.”

I kept my arm on the back of the seat so I could gently touch her hair and neck. She didn’t seem to mind. She drove carefully to my house. When she stopped, I reached over and shut off the motor. 
“You aren’t in a hurry, are you?”

“That depends. I don’t want you to think I’m too easy.”

I laughed and pulled her closer. 

After a while, she said, “What time is it?”

“It’s too dark to see.”

She turned the light on.

I looked at my watch. “A quarter to twelve.”

“I had no idea it was that late. I have to be in by twelve.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun.”

She looked up at me intently. “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Having fun.”

“You mean do I like being with you?”

She nodded.

“Stupid. Don’t you know when a guy likes you?”

“I wasn’t wondering about ‘a guy.’ I was wondering about you.”

“Well, maybe this will answer your question.” I slipped my arms around to hold her. Then I really kissed her. 

After she had caught her breath, she said, “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Nope. Only a select few.”

“Does that mean I’ll see you again?”

“Try to avoid me.”

 “Good-night.”

“Good night, Janice. Call me when you get home.”

I watched as the car drove away. Life felt a little better. In fact, I was humming as I walked toward the two-story semi-detached house where we’d lived for six years. Even having to look through all my pockets for the keys didn’t bother me. I found them at last, and even remembered to put my jacket and shoes into the closet next to the front door instead of tossing them on the floor.

Mom and Dad were in bed, so I grabbed the phone before it finished ringing the first time, and talked to Janice just long enough for her to tell me she got home okay. After that, I went to the basement where we keep our computer. 

I was looking around on the Internet when I heard Sandy unlock the front door. He must have noticed the light was on because a moment later he came downstairs. Seeing me, he jerked back in surprise. 

“You home?”

“Yeah.”

“How was your evening? You and Marietta have a good time?”

I felt a stab of pain in my guts, but I said, “Fine,” and hoped he didn’t know. 

“Oh, come on,” he said, “you haven’t been home this early on a Friday night for the last year. You really think I’m going to believe everything’s fine?”

“I don’t care what you believe! Leave me alone.”

“What’s the matter? Too much to drink? Or maybe Marietta stabbed you with one of her nails and you lost so much blood you had to come home to bed to recover. Am I close?”

I shut off the computer. “I’m going to bed.”

“Okay,” said Sandy. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“That’s right. I don’t.”

I headed upstairs, leaving him to turn off the lights. 

I went into the bathroom and shut the door. But instead of brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed, I just leaned against the door, feeling sick. Every time Sandy and I were anywhere near each other these days, we seemed to fight.

But it hadn’t always been that way. In fact, up until this past year we’d been pretty well inseparable. We’d spent hours together, building Lego space ships, playing catch, riding bikes, reading comic books huddled together in one bunk until Mom had made us separate to go to sleep.

We’d even had our own language when we were little. Not that we needed words. We’d always known when the other was sad or afraid or angry. And if anyone hurt one of us, the other would be out for revenge.

When we were eleven, we’d moved from our cramped apartment into this house where there were three bedrooms, and Dad had wanted to give us each his own room. Instead, we’d persuaded him to knock down the wall between so we could have one big room together.

But, somehow, this past year, we had drifted apart. Sandy had become popular, and last June had been elected school president. He was the fair-haired boy—everyone liked him—teachers, parents, kids—everyone! 

And for some reason, I didn’t fit in with his new friends. So I’d made my own. Only, somehow, it wasn’t the same. And these past months, while everything in my life seemed to be falling apart, he was doing just fine. 

I was failing a couple of classes; Sandy was getting straight A’s. I had been kicked off the basketball team, which was the only team I’d made; Sandy was the star of several school teams. Just last night Dad had grounded my car because I’d had too many speeding tickets; Sandy never got speeding tickets. I had just been fired from my crummy job and because I had spent my money buying a car and insurance and gas, I was now broke; Sandy had had a high-paying, interesting job last summer where he’d been able to save enough money so he didn’t have to work during the year. I had just been dumped by a girl Sandy said you couldn’t pay him to date; he was dating the head cheerleader, who just happened to be the most popular girl in the school. 

I shook my head. What use was it to think about him. We were like strangers now, and there wasn’t a single thing I could do about it. 

I got ready for bed and was under the covers when Sandy came up. I lay still, hearing him get ready for bed. Taking off his good slacks and his shirt. Putting on his pajamas. Combing his hair. Making sure he looked good, as usual. Funny, even though we’re identical twins, anybody who knows us can tell us apart easily. For starters, his hair is shorter than mine, and styled, and he’s always combing it to make sure it’s in place. But more than that, he wears pants and shirts, and maybe a sweater, and looks like he’s always trying to impress somebody. I prefer jeans and T-shirts. And I don’t smile all the time, like he does. Or worry about things like aftershave. And hanging up clothes.

But at last he was ready for bed. He switched off the light. For about a minute, it was quiet. Then, “I heard something happened about your job today.”

“I’m trying to get some sleep, if you don’t mind.”

I heard him moving in bed and then the light went back on.  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do mind. You’re my brother. And we used to be pretty good friends. But I don’t seem to know you any more. It’s almost as if my twin has gone away and someone else has taken his place. What’s gone wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Oh, did you remember? I lie all the time. Well, my dear brother, nothing is wrong! I think you are just as perfect as ever—maybe more so, and I’m going to sleep.”

“Shane, don’t. Please. I don’t understand you any more. We used to be best friends, and now—”

“And now I’m a lot smarter than I was then. What are you worried about, anyway? You’ve got everything you need. Or do you want me bowing and scraping along with everyone else?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I just don’t want to feel my own brother hates me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Well, you sure act as if you do.”

I swore at him.

“Thanks.”

“Look, you take care of your life and I’ll take care of mine.”

“From what I’ve seen lately, you’re doing a lousy job.”

I wanted to argue, but the truth was he was probably right. So should I tell him he was right and I was a creep, or should I use my fists to make him eat his words?

I did neither, and a wall of silence rose.

Sandy broke it at last by getting out of his bed and walking across to sit on the edge of mine. 
"Shane, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Shane, can’t you see I’m just worried about you? If you keep on acting the way you have been, you’re going to get expelled. I don’t want that to happen. Shane?”

I hated him then. Because he could be so objective. Because he had no idea what it felt like to be me. Between clenched teeth, I yelled, “Go to hell!.”

“Shane!”