Skin Deep

~ Two ~

I sat at my usual table in the cafeteria with my usual group of friends. My best friend, Clinton Elling was of the feminine sort, if you catch my drift. I wasn't actually certain of his sexuality, but I had an educated guess. Clinton sat next to an empty seat reserved by a water bottle. I pushed the bottle away with my tray of food. 

"On today's menu:" Clinton began in an infomercial voice, "we are having upchuck wagon on bun, rubber green beans, two stale carrot sticks and a small salad that resembles thick shards of glass. Of course you also have a choice between milk and juice, which doubles as the daily dose of free will." 

"I have a sickening suspicion that I might die of starvation if I ever forgot to take my multivitamin." Our friend Bree chimed in. Those two would make an adorable team of news anchors someday, with her bubbly energy and his boyish good looks.

Clinton pulled a steaming hot pocket out of his lunch box. 

"You got any classes with the new kids?" He asked between bites. 

"Yes." I didn't elaborate farther. "You?" 

"They were both in my trig class before lunch." He took a very dainty sip of water. "The teacher is having a hard time telling them apart" 

"Why?" I asked, genuinely curious. 

Clinton rolled his eyes at me before swallowing a mouthful of food. 

"Um, because they're TWINS." I didn't appreciate his snobbish flamboyance sometimes. 

"Twins?" Was one of them the recipient of an extreme makeover? 

"Yeah, you know, they were womb mates." 

"Okay, that was uber cheesy." I broke my carrot into and threw the pieces at him. 

"But they don't look anything alike" I said remembering the Artemis and Apollo from earlier. 

"You're kidding right?" Clinton's mouth fell open in disbelief displaying a large portion of masticated pita. 

"Clinton, that's disgusting!" Bree squealed. 

His jaw snapped shut and his eyes gazed past me.  

I knew without turning what had claimed Clinton's attention. Unlike most boys my faux-femme friend had the special talent of communicating entire conversations with just a raise of his thinly plucked eyebrows.

But I did turn. The Milners, still not looking at all akin, had just entered the cafeteria. My face was certainly not the only one turned in their direction and just as certain not the prettiest. I took the liberty of exhaling as Matt and his brother walked away from where I sat, just in case. 

They sat alone. Mostly because their perfection was intimidating. That was the case for me at least. Clinton cleared his throat to inform me that I was the only person still staring. I turned around but didn't continue to fain eating. I felt as if someone were watching me. I scanned the room twice before writing it off as paranoia. 

"What are you doing during break?" I asked, referring to the twenty minute period allowed to students for studying and socializing or getting high in the woods behind the school. 

"I'm still trying to perfect my serve." We both knew Clinton had been taking lessons at his family's country club since he was big enough to hold a racket, we also both knew that the tennis court was actually a homosexual playground in disguise. 

As for me, I always spent break tucked away in the over sized chair at the far end of the nonfiction section of the library. It was my sanctuary from the insanity of the crowded halls. One venture to the snack machines will convince most people that immaturity and free time shouldn't mix. 

I gave up using conversation as a means to distract myself from the under-the-microscope feeling. I did another quick comb of the cafeteria. Over my shoulder I could see Matt wearily lay his head down over his arm. He wore a black jean jacket with a knit hood. His dark hair haloed his face. His eyes held an eerie luminosity. He glanced over at me and I quickly turned away.