“That’d be something.” Lucas had high hopes for a football scholarship, but the offers never came. It’s the same sad story of most of the male population of Clover City. But I kind of like the thought of Lucas in Austin. With me.
After a few more minutes of watching the security cameras, Lucas clears his throat. “I . . . actually—are we exclusive?” he asks, dropping a very serious question out of nowhere.
“Excuse me?” I can’t tell if this is his way of telling me he only wants to make out with me or that he wants to also make out with other people.
“It’s just something I’ve been wondering is all.”
Yes, yes, yes, yes, I nearly scream, but I’m not in the business of being overly eager and I definitely don’t want to sound desperate. “Um, not that I’m aware of.”
On the monitor, a woman walks in and waits at the counter.
“Hang on,” says Lucas. “I’ll be right back.”
Once he’s gone, I quickly grab my phone and shoot off a text to Clem.
911! I need a pep talk.
On the monitor, Lucas stands with his back to the woman as he types her numbers onto her lotto tickets. He looks up to the camera—to me—and rolls his eyes, letting out a short sigh that blows the hair off his forehead.
“Clem, Clem, Clem, come on!” I mumble.
My phone lights up with her face. “Okay,” I say into the phone. “I don’t have time to explain. But I need a pep talk. Quick.”
“Wait—what’s—” she sputters. “Okay. Waylon Russell Brewer. You are a gift to humankind. God or whoever’s in charge made you and mwah! Chef kiss! Perfection! You deserve to have good things and good people. You have more vision and culture in your pinkie than most people have in their whole bodies. Ten years from now—”
“I gotta go,” I say. Lucas has disappeared from the monitor. “But that was good. Your pep talk game is at an all-time high.”
“Wait,” she says. “I love you. My life is better because I share it with you. Twin love for life.”
“I love you too,” I whisper back into the phone and hang up, my whole chest glowing with optimism.
Lucas pushes the stockroom door open and I shove my phone back in my pocket. He wipes his hands down the front of his jeans, and I can see that he’s as nervous as I am.
I inhale sharply, shuddering as I exhale.
“Were you talking to someone?” he asks.
“Nope, just, uh, humming to myself.”
He stands between my knees and presses his palms against my thighs. “Waylon?”
“Lucas?”
“I think I’m ready to . . . tell people.”
I hook my arms around the back of his neck. “Are you sure?” I try to keep my voice perfectly even and measured. This is all his decision, and I don’t want to sway him one way or the other.
He pulls my arms down and takes a step back, his whole face lighting up. “I never thought I’d feel like this.”
“Yeah?” Hope bubbles in my chest and I feel like I might burst. I’d told myself over and over for the last few months that this was only physical. Nothing more, but somewhere along the way, it became more, and now—
“I met someone.” He sighs, like a hulking weight has been lifted. “His name is Rashid. He works in the library at school and he makes me so happy. Just talking to him about stupid stuff like our allergies flaring up and our favorite TV shows and weird things our moms say . . .” The words roll right out of him and he claps his broad hand over his smiling lips as he takes a step back. “I haven’t even asked him out yet. Isn’t that shit wild?”
“But you . . .” I force myself to recalibrate, blinking over and over again, because I will not cry. I refuse to cry. Definitely not for this piece of shit. “Good for you, Lucas.”
Realization settles on his face. “You’re not upset, are you?”
I stand and wave a hand in his general direction. Breathe in. Breathe out. “Um, no. I’m fine. Completely fine. So fine.”
“So fine?” He dodges my path to the door. “We said this was just physical, Waylon. From the very beginning. And you just told me to my face we weren’t exclusive. Just now.”
“I. Am. Fine,” I say through gritted teeth as I shove him out of my way.
He loses his footing and stumbles backward into a pile of empty boxes. “We can talk about this,” he tells me.
I stomp out of the stockroom and pray to God he’s watching me on the security monitor, because if the best thing he’s ever had in his life is about to walk right out the door, I hope he’s there to see me go.
Anger rolls through me in fresh waves until I slam my car door shut behind me. Then, and only then, is it safe. The tears come in a quick surge, and once they start, they don’t stop. Sobs rack my whole body as I pull out of the parking lot and leave Lucas right where I found him, in a grimy gas station on the outskirts of town.
Four
At home, I don’t even knock on Clem’s door. “Clem?” I ask, fully prepared to free-fall onto her bed, so she can tell me all the ways Lucas is an asshole and how I deserve better and blah-blah-blah feel-good bullshit.
But her room is empty. The clock on her nightstand reads 12:48 a.m. She should’ve been home by now. Ugh. I don’t have enough emotional energy to process this breakup—is this even a breakup?—and worry about Clementine’s well-being.
I plop down on her bed and fidget with her laptop, looking for the perfect song to properly wallow in this very particular sorrow. I settle on Lizzo’s “Truth Hurts,” and I swear to God I’m about to push her laptop to the side when an email alert from the University of Georgia pops up in the corner of her screen.
Subject Line: Re: First Year Bulldog Camp Dorm Request
I click. It’s a reflex. I can’t control it.
Dear Clementine,
Yes, if you decide to attend First Year Bulldog Camp, we would likely be able to fulfill your dorm request. Though the final say would be up to your camp adviser. I believe you would be with Julia. This is her second year doing Bulldog Camp and I think you two will really hit it off. Testing out your dorm is a great idea. I actually stayed in Hawthorne for my first two years of undergrad and loved it. My roommate was even in my wedding!
I know you have yet to commit to UG, but as a reminder, our extended deadline is right around the corner in a few weeks. Please don’t hesitate if you have any more questions.
-Paulina
Paulina Fernandez
Admissions Adviser
University of Georgia
Athens, Georgia
I snap the laptop shut like it’s a can of worms.
What. The. Fuck. I scrub my hands through my curls, like that might somehow erase everything I just saw. Clem can’t be going to Georgia. Georgia? Why Athens, Georgia? If she’s going to leave me, she might as well make it worth it. Everyone knows cities in the south named after European cities are total duds. You don’t see people lining up to go to Paris, Texas, do you?
I go back to my own room and take a few deep breaths. Clem and I aren’t just twins. We’re best friends. But we have boundaries too. Text messages. Emails. Those are things we don’t go tromping through, so even though I am aching with confusion and hurt feelings, I’m not about to get caught snooping through her emails.