“Fine. If I win, you have to trade me rooms. Since yours is bigger.”
“Deal.” He rolls his eyes at his own response, turning away to shoot a hoop. Now, I’m a H.O.R. We’re always on opposing sides, and he tends to win everything he tries for. It should upset me, but it only drives me to work harder, be more fearless, and beat him because being a loser sucks.
I race to Stacy, stumbling as the ground seems to swallow my feet, with the thought of only wanting to win keeping me from falling. It’s an easy one for us. Kiss a stupid girl, get a bigger room. Painless. Right? She’s sitting on the big spider monkey dome in the center of the park, and my cousin Elena talks next to her. It’s in view of the swings, almost an in-between type course to play as she waits to swing again. She sees me and waves, jumping off the set right as I’m nearing it, leaving a scowling Elena alone. My feet crunch in the rocks more as I slow, remembering how many times I’ve fallen into these and hated that they weren’t soft. Scraped knees and bruises were the result of these stupid pebbles.
“Hey, Kenjington,” she sounds out, bringing me in for a hug. It’s warm, but not in a welcoming sort of way. It’s not like when Atlas or Mom hug me. My stomach feels all uncomfortable for some reason, not liking her arms or body pressed into me. But there’s no time like the present. Now or never. I pull back, making her body not touch more than my hands on her shoulders, and kiss her on her lips, hating myself for the action.
She giggles, wiping her mouth in almost surprise. “Guess Atlas loses,” she muses. And something inside me explodes. I’m not sure if it’s anger or what, but I push her into the rocks and run away, not realizing then a very important thing. Girls are gross, and I’m not into them. Even when he loses, he still comes out triumphant.
Years pass and the wagers get higher and more dangerous, bringing us both to our knees. Mostly me, since he’s shameless in every aspect. He always does my dares, but I tend to stumble and fall on more occasions than not. It’s like he knows exactly what brings me to my knees to keel for his power. We’re fifteen now, our parents are gone 90 percent of the time, and these games are all that solidify our relationship to each other. Not that being twins doesn’t, but we’re far from normal siblings. Stupid things happen when parental control is nowhere to be seen, but it keeps us close. Mom and Dad rarely are around. Aunt Adeline and our cousin Elena are more present in our lives than anyone else. It’s depressing, but I try not to think of their abandonment.
“They didn’t show up again,” I mutter, walking toward Atlas, trying to hide my disappointment. It’s our birthday, again, and we’re watching some action movie I haven’t paid a single ounce of attention to, instead watching the door for them to walk through. My mind travels to Mom and Dad and how they’ve been gone for months this time. Nan passed last year, and she was the only family that showed up besides Adeline and Elena, but they don’t count since they live in Silvercrest. It’s not like it’s a far reach. Nan actually liked us. Our parents, well, we never know what they feel. They’re as stony as Easter Island.
“Who fucking cares, KJ. They’re worthless,” Atlas hisses, his hands balled into fists. In the last few years, my brother has become so volatile. He’s always frustrated and punching things. Worry of what the next year will entail gnaws at me. What if he loses control? I can’t lose him too.
“Don’t say that. They care—” I argue, but in reality, I just want him to hold out on hope. Being the only one with some makes me feel stupid.
“Get that thought out of your mind. Only I care. Only me. It’ll only ever be us,” he declares, coming toward me with a fierceness that never ceases to take my breath away. I nod sadly, knowing he’s right but unwilling to acknowledge how powerful that realization is at the same time.
“Let’s play our game,” Atlas offers, twisting his lip ring. Last year, out of spite, my brother started getting tattoos and piercings. They travel from his wrists up his shoulders, and he has one on his hip that climbs his abs. It’s intense. He’s intense.
If we weren’t part of the Society—a patriarchal old-money label that gives us insurmountable power—I’m sure they’d keep their word from legalities of doing body modifications to teens. I’m not sure what the Society is, other than power I use and abuse, but I’ve never understood it. He rebels way more than me. Unlike him, I’m not as brave. The only thing I did was get my ears pierced. Atlas likes to tell me how big a pussy it makes me.
“Dare you to steal Aunt Adeline’s car when she visits tomorrow,” Atlas taunts. “Bet you’re too scared.”
“Am not, liar. I can do it,” I hiss, pushing his shoulder. I’m tall enough. Atlas and I grew a lot this last year. Being identical twins has made us more conscious of changes. What I see in him tends to reflect to me. Even if he’s the one with the darker soul.
“Then do it,” he demands, punching my shoulder. “Don’t be a pussy, KJ.”
And I did.
A bet that started innocent enough changed at some point, getting darker and darker. Somewhere down the line, they turned from mischievous to evil. We got away with a lot. When I say a lot, I mean everything. Between our parents giving us endless funds, the town knowing
