Her

03

PHOENIX

Lunchtime. The cafeteria. I'm sitting alone at a table, as usual. Back when Xander was alive, he would sit with me. Sometimes it would just be the two of us, sometimes there were some of his friends. I'm saying his friends because that's who they were - his friends. They were his friends, not mine. They liked Xander, not me. All they saw me as was Xander's sister, the other twin, the other LeFlore. Truth is, I would give anything to be that person again, to be his sister again, to have him be my brother again.

But now he's gone. Now it is only me.

Two or three people have tried sitting with me. After Xander's death, they just came up and sat with me for a while, I can't remember how long it lasted. I can't remember much about the time after his death. It's like my life is a movie, and during the time after his death, someone pressed the fast forward button. It was a time nobody wanted to see, including me. Sometimes I wish I could press the fast backward button. Or always, actually. I always want to press the fast backward button. I know exactly where I would want to go.

What I do remember, despite the fast forward button being pressed, is the sitting with me didn't work. It was like sitting with a dead body. I got tired of them talking to me, and they got tired of me not talking to them. So they left, left like Xander. I didn't mind. At first, some small part of me did - though I'd never admit it to anyone -, but as time passes, you get used to things, even bad things. You get used to being alone, to loneliness. You don't know it any other way. And you don't want it any other way. Except, of course, having your twin brother sitting right across from you, having lunch with you. But you know that won't happen.

So I'm sitting alone in the cafeteria, picking at my salad. I spike another tomato and put it on a napkin. It's the fourth one. Xander was the one who loved tomatoes; I am the one who hates them. "Why did you like them so much," I murmur, looking at the small, sad-looking pile. I didn't even know tomatoes could look sad, but the ones in front of me do. Maybe it's my mind, my sad, dark mind. Sad minds see sad things, right? So what my mind sees is that the tomatoes are all rolling to different directions, all away from each other. And what my mind also sees is my parents, Xander and me. We've all moved to different directions. My father to America, my mother somewhere, just away from me, and my brother to death. The only one who hasn't moved is me. It's like I'm waiting for all of them to come back.

I stare at the tomatoes, like I'm waiting for an answer, which, obviously, I don't get. I look up. My eyes lock with a pair of brown ones. Aza blinks, then looks away, says something to her blonde friend, then laughs. I wonder what she said. If I had to guess, I'd say something like, "Pretty sure the princess is nuts. I just saw her talking to a bunch of tomatoes." To be fair, she wouldn't be completely wrong then.

I look at Aza, still laughing. I realise this is the first time I'm seeing her smiling, laughing, being genuinely happy. She looks different, but I can't put my finger on the right word. I stare at her, trying to figure it out. Is it friendly? Nice? Cute, I think. But then I shake my head. How could Aza possibly look cute? That girl is pretty much the definition of the opposite of cute.

I see Ky, the tall black-haired boy, laughing, ruffling Aza's hair. She slaps his hand away, but at the same time she's laughing too. They all are. They all look like they're having a great first day at their new school. I know they're here because their old school shut down. And I know if they weren't here together, they wouldn't be looking like this. They wouldn't all be laughing, having fun. They wouldn't be having such a great first day. But they are. They are laughing, having fun. They are having a great first day. They have each other.

And suddenly, it hits me what I'm doing. I'm having lunch, alone, and I'm watching a group of friends. And I wonder what it's like. I wonder what it's like to have friends, to be included, to be part of something. I wish I knew. I wish I had friends, or just one friend. But I don't. I once did, I once had a friend. But I lost him. He left me. He made me feel included, he made me feel like I was part of something, he was my other part. And I lost him. So I'm alone, watching a group of friends, wondering what it's like to have something which I once had. But I don't know. I can't remember.

Brown eyes lock with mine again. I look away. Pathetic, I think. This is what this is, this is what I am. Pathetic. I get up and leave the cafeteria.

_____

PHOENIX

7pm. My bedroom. I'm sitting on my window seat, reading the book we're assigned to read for English class. Reading is something I've always liked. To me, it's like entering somebody else's mind and leaving your own. The same goes for movies. Reality-escape - that's what they are for me, that's why I love them.

A knock on the door. I put down the book.

"I'm having dinner with Tom."

My mother is standing in the doorway, all dressed up.

"Who's Tom?" I say.

"He's the photographer I'm planning on working with. I told you about him, Phoenix."

"Right. I must have forgotten."

"Dinner is ready," she says, "if you're hungry."

"Okay."

My mother looks at me, her green eyes almost watching me. These green eyes are the only real thing we have in common. I don't know how, but I ended up looking nothing like the rest of my family. I have black hair instead of blonde and pale white skin instead of light golden skin. I inherited my mother's brown hair, but I have started dyeing it years ago. After my mother one day came home having blonde hair instead of brown, I, a few days later, came home having black hair instead of brown. I don't know why she did it, but I think part of the reason was to look like what the majority of us LeFlores look like: blonde hair, green eyes. After that day, she didn't talk to me for almost a week. I didn't mind.

"Is there something else?" I say.

"No," she says. "That's all."

She closes the door.

"The first day of school was great, Mum," I murmur. "Thanks for asking."

She leaves, and I stay in my room, reading the book. I don't think I could feel more alone.