She is Not Made of Roses

five: try on the shoes, you big-footed bitch

FIVE: TRY ON THE SHOES, YOU BIG-FOOTED BITCH

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AURORA DRIVES HER twin brother, Chester Cooper, to school every morning at precisely 7:55 AM. It’s routine that’s kept them punctual, and it’s routine that’s kept her sane. Because without routine, Aurora feels like her head’s a balloon, and she’ll float up, up, up until she pops at the first sight of stability. And there’s nothing stable in the stratosphere, as long as she’s concerned.

Chester secures himself into the passenger seat, as he does every day, and Aurora double checks to make sure he’s telling her the truth, as she does every day. They bicker for a moment, as they do every day, and the first half of the car ride proceeds to carry on a bit awkwardly – as it happens.

Every day.

But Chester speaks when they’re halfway down Gladding, something Aurora never thought could happen. Because around Aurora, breaking routine is like breaking a fast or breaking a promise, and she’s not in the business of doing either.

“Did Rosie tell you about karaoke night?” He asks her, genuinely curious. He doesn’t know why he asked, because Rosie and Aurora tell each other everything; they have since seventh grade, ever since the twins moved to Gracewood, Aurora too tall and skinny for her own good; and Chester, lanky, awkward and swarmed with a face full of pimples. The two grew closer, like polarizing magnets, always meant to connect.

Which is why Chester is so incredibly surprised to see the look of shock on Aurora’s face when he mentions it.

“Karaoke night?” She spits back, taking her eyes off the road for a moment to gape at him. When she yells like that or scowls, he could possibly see the resemblance, but otherwise, the two hardly look alike. They’ve both got the generic Cooper blonde hair and blue eyes, but aside from that, they could be from different planets. Aurora’s face is all softness, with sloping airbrushed features. Her cheeks are full and rosy, and she’s slender enough that it could nearly look misplaced; though, it hasn’t really since she was a child and those cheeks were full of candy corn instead of tic-tac’s and diet Coke.

Meanwhile, Chester is all hard lines, just like their father – a strong jaw, straight nose, and small, focused eyes; he looks like he could be a military man, too, if he wasn’t so disinterested in the field. Chester isn’t sure what it was he wants to do with his life – but he’s certain that he can’t live like he did in childhood, bouncing from base to base, your family straddling onto a leash so close to snapping that you can feel the cords as they twist and break.

But the resemblance quickly flickers and fades away as soon as Chester can notice it, and Aurora is back to being angry and confused.

“Peter told me about it,” he explains tentatively, knowing how Aurora can get. “Apparently they’re holding a karaoke thing to fund your little club – Rosie and Ella are running it.”

“Ella? Ella Hall?” Aurora snaps, confused. Her hands shake on the wheel, “What, why her? Why not me? Rosie’s never even spoken to Ella before.”

“Probably because Ella’s the VP,” he says, trying to pull reason out of the situation. Noticing Aurora’s tenseness, he frowns, “What’s the matter with you? Why are you getting so…so…”

“So what, Chester?”

“So…” he frowns, glancing up at her through identical blue eyes, “So jealous.”

Aurora’s limbs stiffen like metal pipes, and she might have swerved the car off the road if it wasn’t for the red light. She puts her foot to the break, taking a long moment to breathe. She looks at Chester, scowling. “I am not jealous of anything. I’m just curious as to why I wasn’t involved in something I’m clearly a part of.”