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Dreams

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The weather was gloomy. It was raining. The water was dripping down the side of the roof in front of my window. This was the morning of January 13th, my seventeenth birthday. I hadn’t expected it to be like this.

When my alarm went off at six, I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was the rain. I usually loved the rain, but not today. The sky seemed to mirror my mood and that kind of freaked me out. And that was because of the dreams, or visions I had at night. Today I knew how many people would die today and how each of them would. Today, a lot of people would die.

Next I saw that my twin sister Molly’s bed was empty. She was awake as usual, hogging the bathroom to try to make herself look like the blonde haired, blue-eyed stick figures we went to school with. She just couldn’t accept the fact that she’d always be different. I mean, I had. But then again, I was a nobody while she was best friends with some of the most popular people in our school. People always think that she’s the pretty one even though we’re identical twins, and even I can understand why. She has a certain aura around her; one that illuminates a room. And she actually puts some effort into herself. I just try to stay invisible.

I climbed out of my bed and went to my side of the room. It was on the farthest side of the room and held my closet, desk, and chest of drawers. Molly’s side was messily crammed with all her stuff and plastered with posters of the movie star or movie she was recently enraptured with. She didn’t care about cleanliness and barely about school. She only kept up her grades to stay in dance. Unlike her I actually liked cleaning and school, especially reading. Literature was my best class.

Molly came into the room, well actually danced in, and looked me over. I had changed into a plain long-sleeved blue t-shirt, jeans that I’d grabbed out of the dirty clothes and an old NYU sweatshirt that was our mother’s. That was where she went to college and I planned to go there too, and then to create myself as a prominent journalist. I was comfortable and so I was happy but Molly was less than pleased.

“Charlie,” she whined, “could you try to put a little effort into yourself. Its bad enough that you don’t wear make-up or have a boyfriend. You are naturally pretty. I mean we are identical twins.”

I rolled my eyes. I never liked nor wanted to wear make-up and I never wanted a boyfriend. “Molly, try to understand. I don’t want to be like a girl in one of you’re fashion magazines. No one ever takes them seriously. And if the only reason guys likes me is because I have on a short skirt and a low IQ, than I really don’t want anything to do with them.”

Molly turned around from the mirror, her piercing green eyes narrowed. That look could frighten the toughest jock in our school and it had, but it never could work for me. I guess its because I could do the exact same thing.

“So are you saying that the only reason boys like me is because of my short skirt and the fact that my IQ isn’t as high as yours?” she said, her voice menacing. It didn’t scare me though because I had always promised to tell her the truth because, frankly, no one else did.

“Well Molls, look at the picture. You attract jerks for guys who only want to get under your skirt and run if you show the least sign of common sense. And you can’t exactly call yourself a shoo in be class valedictorian.”

These were fighting words and if anyone else but me had said them, they would have been dead. But since it was me, she had to accept them even if she didn’t like them.

“Well Dave isn’t a jerk and he called me clever.” she said, trying to make her case. But I had too much practice for her to even think about winning.

“How long have you known Dave Flores exactly?” I asked as I gathered up my backpack I had accidentally knocked over. My books were spilled all over the place and so were my papers. Molly rolled her eyes as I neatly put my papers in their places.

“Gosh, Charlie, I think you might have OCD or something. I’ve never met someone who cleans as much as you do.”

I ignored her and zipped up my backpack. She had finally moved away from the mirror and I went over and brushed my hair.

Molly and I were an exact mixture of our parents. We had my mother’s curly red hair and my father’s emerald green eyes. Our skin was a cream color similar to our father’s and we had our mother’s small nose and pretty mouth. I knew I could be pretty because Molly was but I had never strived to be. Molly had taken on the role of the diva early on, so I took over the role as the smart, responsible one.

I left my hair alone after I brushed it and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth. It was small and held a shower, sink and toilet. But it was where Molly lived, literally. She woke up at five every morning and spent an hour there. And if there was a dance she went in there straight after school and didn’t come out until five minutes before we left. She also left a huge mess that I had to clean up.

I brushed my teeth thoroughly and washed my face before leaving. I walked down the hall, backpack in hand, past my dad’s closed door, past the living room, and straight into the kitchen and dining room that were adjacent to each other. I tossed my bag into a chair as a my dad said, “Happy birthday, Charlie!”



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