“Oh, almost forgot,” said Meghan, as she uncovered a slow cooker and stirred
the contents inside, “I ran into Kanda on my way to find Colin. She’s coming for
breakfast.”
Meghan dropped the spoon into the slow cooker as a loud buzzer went off,
startling her.
“I thought for sure I had fixed that,” exclaimed Arnon.
Meghan raced into the hallway opening the door to the dryer, instantly
returning quiet to the trailer.
“Well, it’s at least drying now,” she yelled, grabbing the clothes. She threw the
laundry on the kitchen table and deftly folded each item, except for her own. She
put away her uncle’s and her brother’s, but when it came to her own she simply
threw them on the floor, on top of another pile from a prev ious load.
Colin, fresh from showering, appeared in their shared room. He ignored
Meghan, sulking his way to his dresser.
Each twin had a tall bunk bed with a desk, chair and dresser underneath. At the
foot of each bed, shoved into a small shelf, was a TV and DVD player. Colin had
added another shelf, along side the trailer’s wall, for his many books.
Colin unhooked a curtain, which dropped and divided the room, allowing him
privacy while dressing. A few minutes later, he pulled the curtain back, hooking it
to the wall, and started up his laptop. While waiting, he plugged in his ear buds.
Before he could hit play on his I-pod, his sister inhaled in a deep gasp, holding her
breath.
“What?” he asked, annoyed and not yet in the mood to speak to her. He heard
the thought before she could say it. “Did you lose the locket?” he prompted. His
mood changed immediately to concern.
Meghan felt through her sweater, exhaling in relief.
“Still there,” she breathed. Meghan always wore the locket, for safekeeping.
However, neither twin would have wanted to lose it, as it had once belonged to
their mother. The locket was the only possession of hers that they still owned.
Two vines, one colored black and the other gold, covered the outside of the
locket, twisting around each other like a snake. The most confusing part, though,
was that the vines had actual sharp, piercing thorns, which if Meghan bent or
moved just right would pinch her skin. Over time, the occasional prick of the
thorns had become a comfort to her, a positive affirmation that it was still
securely hanging around her neck.
Colin turned his attention back to his laptop and I-pod, but again, found his
thoughts interrupted.
“What now?” he grumbled.
“Can’t find my black jacket. Need to sew a button back on.”
“How can you find anything? It’s all in a pile, and everything in that pile is
black. Even the carpet it’s piled on is black.” He turned on his I-pod, trying to
block out the moans of disgust seeping into his own thoughts. A fter a few minutes
of tearing through her side of the room, she gave up, leaving.
