The Other Twin

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

*Too Big a Bash*

After braving through the hectic events of the past week and managing to survive - I would never have thought that a simple cold would be enough to take me out.

Said cold being the reason why I was spending my Saturday night sprawled out on my bed under a mountain of blankets and an equally large pile of tissues. And because I suddenly got hit with the viral infection that left me sneezing and shivering - on top of dealing with the insanity that has become a regular part of my life - my weekend plans were limited to hibernating 48 hours for some much needed sleep.

Karyn though, had other plans.

"Wakey wakey sleepy head!" She cheerfully trilled as she entered our room. I groaned and pulled my plaid purple duvet tighter around myself in order to savor my last few moments of peace. Under my cocoon of blankets, I heard my sister stop for a moment - giving me a false hope that she'd just leave me alone - until the bed dipped under her weight as she started trying to pry my blankets off.

"Taryn, I know you're awake!" Karyn said while pulling. I tightly held onto my sheets but I was already weaker than usual, leaving me unable to give much of a fight. Overcoming my pitiful attempts, Karyn successfully wrenched my blankets off with a triumphant grunt.

"Go away." I moaned, wincing as the words stressed my already sore throat. I peeked one eye open and recoiled from the sudden exposure to the bright lights, wanting nothing more than to crawl back under the covers. Dressed in her fluffy white bathrobe fresh from her shower, Karyn rolled her eyes at my dramatics and reached forward to tug me into a sitting position.

"C'mon Taryn, get up!" She urged before adding, "I have food." I perked up at the sound of sustenance (my stomach's been grumbling for the past half hour) and reluctantly sit crisscross pretzel style on my bed while stifling a yawn. I rubbed my eyes then abruptly sneezed. "I need more tissues."

"Gotcha covered." My sister assured, bringing my attention to the silver tray she was balancing in one hand with the other holding a rectangular box of tissues. She tossed over the tissues before pushing away the rest of my blankets and setting the tray in front of me. My stomach growled appreciatively at the sight of the hot steaming bowl of soup centered in the middle alongside a glass of water, some napkins and my medicine.

"You're welcome." Karyn flashed me a grin as she walked in front of our dresser to towel dry her hair.

"Thank you." I uttered belatedly in surprise as I brought a spoonful of the dish to my lips and blew gently, taking an experimental sip. Instantly my mouth flooded with the savory tastes of chicken and spices, the flavor complimented by the heat of the soup which soothed my raw throat. As I proceeded to devour the tasty food through means of sips and loud slurps, Karyn started to get ready for the Big Bash. One of the good things about my cold - something that I was eternally grateful for - was that it served as a plausible excuse for not going to the "legendary" blow out party, thus saving me from the awkward ordeal of turning Dale down. 

"Damn." I looked up from my empty bowl to see Karyn frowning at her outfit, this short black sparkly sheath dress.

"What's wrong?" I ventured cautiously, when my sister got into get-ready-for-party mode, the littlest things could set her off. I don't even want to think about the mood swings she'll go through in planning her wedding. At my question, my twin's face twisted into a stricken expression.

"Look at this - just look." I followed where her finger was pointed at: a thin line of yellow stretched across the gauzy fabric of the skirt of the dress effectively ruining it. Then again, my sister was making a big fuss over it, if she just kept her hand over her thigh the entire night, no one would know.

"Don't freak out Karry," I began slowly, "it's not that bad."

"I can't wear this," she stated, tossing it on the ground dismissively, "and I only have two hours tops to find another outfit... and then I have to pick out matching accessories and shoes and - when will I ever get ready?!" Muttering to herself, Karyn made her way to our shared closet and flung it open. I watched in mild interest as she poured a mishmash of shirts, dresses, pants, scarves and other forms of attire on the ground in her frantic pursuit of the perfect outfit.

"Taryn, which one looks better?" She abruptly asked holding up two outfits for me to inspect; they looked identical with the exception of color.

"Both?" I shrugged, surprised that she was even asking for my opinion.

"You're no help." She huffed as she dropped both on the floor before diving back into the closet. It was really a sight to behold; my twin rapidly pulled out and tossed outfits on the ground, occasionally cocking her head at a possible candidate then angrily shaking her head and dropping it to scour for something else. Soon the floor of our room was littered with rejected outfits and Karyn was still none the wiser on what to wear.

"Taryn!" She exclaimed when finding she was out of clothes to throw, "What do I do now?"

"Stay home?" I suggested innocently.

"Taryn." She cast me an unamused glare, then sighed and sunk to her knee dejectedly. Seeing her looking so defeated, I realized how important this was to her, no matter how trivial I thought it was. My sister needed my help - what little that may be with my limited knowledge of the fashion world - and I owed it to her. Karyn could have been off at one of her pre-party prep time things but she chose to stay home and take care of me.

In her own way, Karyn cares, and now it's my turn to return the favor.

"Okay, this is a long shot," I began hesitatingly, "but what about that turquoise and brown dress with those tights." Karyn paused for a moment before grinning wildly and grabbing the articles of clothing I was talking about. "I'll be right back."

She must be really desperate, I decided, if she was willing to take fashion advice from me, let alone listen to it.

"Taryn you're a genius!" Karyn declared when she came back sporting the attire. I have to say, I was surprised: it wasn't half bad. The long sleeved, turquoise dress was patterned with sequined diamonds and had a thick brown belt at the waist and fell mid-thigh, complimented well with the sparkly black tights I had suggested. Add Karyn's natural grace and the whole thing tied together very nicely.

Karyn hurried forward to engulf me in an embrace. "This is perfect, thank you."

"Think of it as payment for the soup." I dismissed with a teasing grin. With her "crisis" averted, I left Karyn to finish up on the last minute touches and I pulled the covers back over my head.

"...one last thing." Karyn started.

"What now?" I demanded grouchily.

"Please Taryn could you please French braid my hair? You know I've never learned how to do it and... please?" She gave me a puppy dog look, "Pretty please?"

"Fine." I eventually agreed, hefting myself once more out of bed. Karyn lead me over to the dresser where I directed her to sit. As I collected the necessary combs and snapped the hair ties on my wrist, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. Sick, wasn't a good look on anyone, and I was a prime example of that with my face plain and pale, my hair done up in a messy bun and my nose red enough to pass as Rudolph's. Typical.

Ignoring that, I focused on running a comb through Karyn's hair in order to untangle it, which wasn't that hard since her hair was naturally silky smooth and fell down her back in a golden river with a few strokes. Once that was done, I pulled three locks of hair from the top of her head and began weaving it into a French braid. Well familiarized with the pattern of twisting and interlacing hair into a French braid, my mind switched on autopilot as I mindlessly followed the sequence of: bring to right, get new strand, bring to left.

Right.

New strand.

Left.

Right. New strand. Left. Right -

"You should'nt give up so easily on Rhode Island School of Design." Karyn quietly says, breaking the silence. I stopped mid-twist as the mention of my dream college. A dull ache pounded in my chest despite the conflict being weeks ago. And though it was technically unresolved, my parent's firm decision of "no", left the topic closed off for further conversation.

"Mom and dad already made their decision." I finally manage to inform in a bare whisper. Karyn's aqua-blue eyes pierce mine in the mirror.

"And you've already made your decision too - you want to go."

"Karyn..." I protest, hinting for her drop it. Her statements were all too true yet they did no good besides hurt.

"No Taryn, you should get a chance to go if you really want to." She insists, "I've talked to mom and dad but they'll only listen to you. This is your future. And though they mean well, you have to stand up to them." I tie off her hair mutely, unable to word how grateful I am that Karyn took the time to try to convince to our parents to let me go. As I turn to leave Karyn stands and grabs me, forcing me to meet her determined gaze.

"Fight for it Taryn. Fight for Rhode Island School of Design." I floundered, one part of me felt all warm and fuzzy with Karyn's pep-talk and allowed me to envision a future with my dream college, another more reasonable part of me cautioned against getting swept up with false security to only be let down later and the final, third part of me wanted to go to sleep.

"I'll try." I finally say. "But no promises." Satisfied with my answer, Karyn lets me go to collect her things and accessories. Just as she hooks her purse on her shoulder, her phone beeps in signal of a text message. "Scooter's here to pick me up." She reads.

"Have fun then." I say with a wave.

"Wait, Dale wants to know if you want him to stay with you," she asks, her lips curling with a grin, "that is the sweetest thing ever!"

"No!" I immediately shout, vigorously shaking my head. The cold was my ticket out of spending time with him. Karyn gives me a disapproving look, and makes a tsk sound, "I'll tell him you're too contagious but you should give the guy a chance - he really likes you."

"Why does everyone keep on telling me that?" I complain into my sheets.

"Because it's true," my sister chides in response. Clearing her throat, her tone takes on a more serious note, "There's soup in the kitchen if you're hungry, I have my phone on me if you need anything, and don't stay up too late."

"Aw Karyn, you do care." I fawn dryly making her swat me good-naturedly before heading out. I watch her linger at the door hesitantly, "If you want I could... stay home." She offers.

I toy with the idea in my mind before firmly shaking my head. "It's fine," I assure, "go and have fun, I won't set the house on fire while you're gone."

"You sure? You've always had an arsonist streak in you... I'd go so far as to say that you can even be considered a pyromaniac - " Karyn's tease gets cut off when I throw a pillow at her. "Bye Tarry." She blows a final kiss before leaving.

"Let me go to sleep." I say behind her retreating back.

***

When I later wake up, the neon green numbers on my alarm clock read 11:45. Feeling very well rested, I swing my legs over the side of my bed and stand to stretch before heading downstairs. Out of habit, I flick on the lights as I make my down; with Ollie over at a friend's house for a sleepover and my parents gone to a meeting with an emancipation client, the house seems so big and empty with me as its sole occupant.

I run a hand through my hair, unbothered by the quietness, if there's one thing my mom has constantly reminded us all time and time again - it's to never fear your home. The tiled floors of the kitchen are ice cold under my bare feet as move about; I see the lidded pot of soup that Karyn had mentioned earlier but find I have no appetite for it. Instead, I rummage around the fridge and catch sight of a carton of pistachio ice cream stowed away.

Bingo!

Not bothering with the formalities of a bowl, I wash a spoon, grab the carton and walk over to the adjacent living room. Normally I wouldn't dare bring food here, seeing as how I'm clumsy and the food would end up splattered against the expensive white furniture, or stain the Persian rug or make some sort of mess - but I felt my cold warranted some rebellion.

Plus, my parents weren't home.

Settling on the comfy sofa, I flick through the channels idly watching tidbits of commercials and cartoons before finally settling on Food Network, where they were doing one of those cake challenges. I pried off the lid of the pistachio ice cream carton and happily scooped a hearty spoonful of creamy pale green goodness with my eyes glued to the screen where this baker was demonstrating his technique for making chocolate leaves with a long pointed knife.

Baking was much like an art of its own - one of the few I haven't quite taken to. Honestly I'd just learned how to successfully crack open an egg a few weeks ago during a shift as Paris Baguette. The decorating aspect however, was something I excelled in (Donna even lets me decorate some of the cakes when there aren't a lot of customers during the evening). I watched in fascination as they showed one female baker step back from her handiwork to reveal tiny spirals of blue and pink frosting piped at the side of her cake and just as fast, switched to another baker molding fondant over her cake to form ruffles.

And that's how I thought my night would pass: eating ice cream and watching Food Network. That is, until my phone rang.

The familiar melody of my ringtone forced me to tear my gaze away from the TV screen and reach for the device. I pressed it between the crook of my neck and shoulder simultaneously scraping myself another spoon of ice cream.

"Hello?" I asked expectantly.

"Hay!" An unrecognizable girlish voice trilled back amidst giggles.

"He-llo?" I repeated slowly with a twinge of annoyance, wondering if I was being prank called.

"Hay is for horses!" The speaker blurted out and started laughing uncontrollably. I pulled back my phone to check the caller ID, freezing when the name flashed with Karyn's number.

"Karyn is that you?" I asked lowering the volume of the TV in effort to make out her garbled speech.

"Yup. Zat's me!" My sister chirped unsteadily between hiccups. "I like koala bears." This cannot be happening.

"Karyn are you drunk?" I asked beginning to worry since the answer seemed plainly obvious. Karyn laughed loudly at the suggestion.

"I'm gonna go to Australia to live with the koala bears." She replied freely. The phone clattered to the floor which succeed in further amusing her as she giggled loudly. I was relieved that she'd added that new protective case a few days ago or else she'd be in trouble.

I face-palmed myself; she was definitely drunk. And a drunk Karyn was dangerous, whenever she's in that state, she does the craziest things - one time she somehow managed to drive the car inside a local candy shop, she literally drove the front into the interior of the store before passing out. It's a miracle the shop had wide automatic doors or the damages would've been worse. My point: the world is a lot safer with a sober Karyn Hart.

When the phone is picked up Scooter's voice crackles on the line. "Tar and feathers." He greets pleasantly. Why do they do this to me?

"Scooter unless you're sober, please give the phone back to Karyn." I say slowly and deliberately.

"Colonists used to tar and feather the English during the 1700s," He suddenly got all teary, "why are you named after such a horrible thing, Tarr?" I puffed out a breath of air, quickly losing my patience.

"Scooter my name is Taryn," I reminded evenly, "I'm your girlfriend's sister, remember? Can I please talk to Karyn?"

"I love Karyn!" He said excitedly earning a happy squeal from my sister, the made a loud hushing noise, "But don't tell her, it's a secret."

"Please don't tell me you're all drunk - are you?" I questioned desperately.

"Caramel popcorn!" She singsonged in response. I groaned, already certain where this was all heading. There was a slight scuffle for the phone before a new speaker talked.

"Taryn." Dale stated.

"Dale - thank God, are you sober?" I asked hopefully clinging to my last chance.

"Half." He answered with a slight slur, "I'm half in reality and half in imagination land. Best of both worlds!" He suddenly broke into an age old Hannah Montana song, shouting the lyrics with scary good memory.

"Dale," I snapped, "stay with me."

"Oh yeah, umm..." He stopped, no doubt trying to recall our conversation. "You need to pick us up, none of us can drive home."

"But it's late," I protested, checking the screen of my phone which read 12:20 am.

"Okey coke, see you soon." Dale said ending the call with an off key, "you get the be-sst of both worlds". I shut off the TV and slumped into the sofa. There really was no other way, to ensure they were safe, I would have to go to the Big Bash and drive them home. I glared at my phone, the call had reminded me all too well why I was so opposed to parties.

Regretfully, I snapped back the lid of the ice cream carton and stowed it back inside the fridge. Flicking off the lights as I went, I raced up the stairs, two at a time to get to my room where I pulled on an all black over sized hoodie from YAA with my name spray painted on the back and a pair of jeans. I made sure to stuff my pockets with more than enough tissues, half finishing the supply in the tissue box. Digging my feet in a pair of converse, I shut off the remaining lights in the house, slipped my keys in my pocket, and was out the door in a matter of seconds.

After locking up everything, I started the ignition on the car and pulled out of the driveway - off to save my sister's butt once again.

***

I didn't need a GPS to tell me that I'd arrived at the party - the loud pulsating music heard from a mile away, red plastic cups littering the roads and dozens of teenagers milling about the front lawn - were indication enough.

I chose to park a little way off from the large mansion-style home where the Big Bash was being hosted. I wouldn't put it past some of these kids to try and actually succeed in hijacking my car or something. I stopped for a moment to survey the scene outside; part goers who couldn't find space inside were spread out in the once neatly groomed front yard, idly chatting or dancing to the music emanating from the house with their faces illuminated by multicolored lights.

Do it for Karyn. You are doing this for Karyn. I reminded myself, all the while fighting the urge to just head home and finish off the pistachio ice cream. After a split second of shameful deliberation (what kind of sister am I?) I opened the car door and got out, making sure to click the locks closed. Again, I do not trust any of these people. Pulling my hoodie over my head to conceal my face, I trudged toward the Big Bash with my hands stuffed in my pockets and my eyes trained on the ground.

Trying to stick to my low profile, I speed walked past the lawn ignoring everything. As I was contemplating on how to get inside, a group of guys holding packs of drinks and a large stereo - like there weren't already enough of those - pushed past me and pushed back the door then proceeded to shout, "Let's crank it up!"

I rolled my eyes in irritation but used to opportunity to slip inside with them. I checked behind my shoulder to see if anyone noticed then turned back and froze when I caught sight of the scene before me. It made me realize my painfully non-existent experience at parties since the last time I had gone to one there had been balloons, decorations and coned hats - none of which were found before me.

The most prominent two actions found everywhere: dancing and drinking. I spied a DJ working the sound system, playing loud music through giant speakers to which everyone mindlessly moved to. I instantly felt bad for the people who'd have to clean up this mess, a quick glance around showed that the guy hosting this had enough sense to put away valuable items, but the furniture and rug weren't spared in the slightest. A couple close to me enthusiastically twirled each other, carelessly spilling their drinks on the floor with their movements. Beside them teenagers were bouncing on top the leather coaches, scuffing up the expensive material.