Look Both Ways E-Book

Jacquelyn Mitchard

• Herausgeber: Story Hill Publishing
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

“Dark, powerful, and mysterious.” -Karin Slaughter, author of Pretty Girls

Supernatural Visions Divide and Unite Twin Sisters in this Gripping YA Novel

Ever since their shared near-death experience, twins Mallory and Meredith Brynn have been disconnected - not just emotionally, but supernaturally. Where once they shared an uncanny psychic link, now their extrasensory abilities drive them apart.

Mallory increasingly suffers disturbing visions of the future while Merry witnesses unsettling glimpses of the past. At first the sisters try to ignore their mystifying powers, seeking normalcy in new romances, friendships and high school pursuits. But soon they realize their visions hold dark and dangerous truths that can’t be ignored.

When Mallory dreams of a mystical white lion stalking their school halls, she fears not only for their classmates' safety but also for her best friend Eden, who harbors deep secrets. Meanwhile, as Merry vies for a coveted spot on the cheerleading squad, she suspects hidden motives behind a series of disturbing pranks against her teammates.

To get to the root of their uncanny visions, the twins must look deeply into their family history and local legends. As they uncover disturbing truths, both sisters grapple with the cost and responsibility of their paranormal abilities. Can Merry and Mallory learn to reconcile the ordinary and mystical parts of themselves - and more importantly, will their strained sisterhood survive the ordeal?

This gripping paranormal YA novel explores the trials of sisterhood and otherworldly gifts through the journeys of two very different but unbreakably bonded twins.
 

Leseprobe

Jacquelyn Mitchard

LOOK BOTH WAYS

ISBN: 978-1-947635-68-5

This ebook was created with StreetLib Writehttps://writeapp.io

Look Both Ways

Jacquelyn Mitchard

Copyright

© 2018 Jacquelyn Mitchard

This book is licensed for personal use only. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes) prior written agreement must be obtained by contacting the author. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

Publisher’s Note

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

For Pamela English

What hearts your heart has touched

ONCE MORE INTO THE DREAM

Great-grandpa Walker, ninety-two years old, always picked the darkest night to tell the stories. He rested his chin on the tent poles of his long fingers and said, “These hills have seen strange sights, you know. . . . “

Even the twins, teenagers Mallory and Meredith, the oldest of the Brynn grandchildren and technically past the days of campfire stories, couldn’t help but shiver. As their father or Uncle Kevin piled the night’s last dry logs onto the coals, the littlest cousins sat on their parents’ laps and the older ones huddled in the blankets from the family cabins—blankets that would have felt stiff and scratchy at home but were somehow comforting up at the camp on Crying Woman Ridge. The fire painted Grandpa’s strong, thin face with weird streaks of color as he painted word pictures of his own grandfather, Ellery, toiling up Canada Road with his wife and two children, his cooking pots and wooden roof shingles on the backs of five Welsh ponies. Before that, they’d sailed to New York in a packet boat off the wild coast of Wales, determined to scrape a living from the rich veins of copper beneath this rough land. They were Welsh miners, used to deprivation and harsh conditions, and so they prospered.

Ellery Brynn’s first home was the many-times-updated cabin that still stood in the middle of the cabin camp—a house only a few hundred feet from the mine shaft he helped to build. But with his son and grandson, he helped found Ridgeline, the little town in the valley. There, he built five of the big brick foursquare houses on Pilgrim Road, and a Brynn son or daughter once lived in every one. Now, only Meredith and Mallory’s father, Tim and his family lived in the house where Tim had grown up. Three of the other houses had been torn down, and one housed the town library. Still, their family’s place in the town’s past wasn’t just a story; it was history.

But the tales Grandpa Walker told weren’t written down in historical pamphlets or old documents.

They were ancient and strange. Long before carjackers or thieves who “picked your pockets clean,” as Grandpa Walker put it, there were good reasons for children to nip up their heels and head home before dark. Black bears and mountain lions roamed the trails in these provinces just below Canada. Three times, a child had come up missing. His father’s best friend was called Oberlin Bent Tree, a Cree Indian, and Oberlin’s French wife, Regine, swore that one of those children was adopted by the lions—that she ran wild, brown and agile as the cubs, her long, long dark hair streaming. On cold spring moonlit nights, children would wake and rush through the partitions of cotton wool that served as walls to leap into their parents’ beds when the mountain lions howled for their mates. It was a sound that seemed to pass through the walls of the sturdy log houses—so nearly human but also unearthly that Grandpa Walker said language couldn’t quite describe it. And sometimes—or so Regine told the children—there was another sound too, a soft, musical voice that sang in time with the lions’ chorus. Legend said too that once a white panther came to steal a settler’s horse and rode away sitting upward on its back like a man.

Grandpa Walker’s stories were written on the children’s oldest memories. If they felt real, it was because they were as much a part of being a Brynn as were gray eyes and freckles.

That was why, when Mallory Brynn saw the white lion, she never doubted that it was real.

It was walking in long, languid strides down the halls of Mallory’s school, but even the sight of a wild creature in school didn’t make Mallory doubt that she was seeing something real. The animal was beautiful, a living snow statue, muscles bulging and rippling under a stainless soft pelt. It was beautiful except for the fact that the eyes in its great, triangular head were. . . somehow human.

The lion passed the alcove that led to the Little Theatre, where letters on an arch edged in green and white proclaimed, LOVE ART—FOR EVERYONE’S SAKE! It swung its great head side to side as if listening for a cue, then headed down the narrow corridor to the girls’ locker room. There, in the dressing room, the cheerleaders’ outfits were lined up as the coach insisted, their shoes, some as little as a fourth grader’s, with pom-poms threaded onto the laces, were lined up below on a bench. Suddenly, with a flick of its paw, the lion reached up and swiped the last pair from the bench. And then, looking straight at Mallory with recognition and a sorrow she felt in her chest like a bruise, it pulled its lips back from its teeth and yowled like a soul in pain. Mallory heard the sound Grandpa Walker could never describe, the sound no Brynn had heard for two hundred years. And she knew it was meant for her.

Mallory screamed, jerking her body up in her bed, nearly knocking herself cold on the slanted roof of the attic bedroom she shared with Meredith.

Busy doing what she did best, staring into the mirror, Meredith froze. Then she went up like a rocket, screaming in stereo, a whole octave higher than her sister. It was pure Meredith super-drama, complete with a gasp and a threat: “Shut up! You almost gave me a heart attack!”

But something dark and old bloomed in Merry’s chest too. She’d heard an echo of what had so frightened her sister, a terrible sound from the past. Merry and Mallory were mirror-image twins, as alike and unlike each other as two human beings could be. But since their birthday, nearly ten months before, and everything that came after that, they knew that whether she wanted to or not, Mallory could and would see into the future. Meredith could, and would, see into the past.

So whatever had screamed for Mallory wanted Merry too.

COMPLEX GIFTS

Pulling her comforter around her with a shiver, Mallory sat up and gave in to the slightest moment of ordinary sisterly irritability. Screaming was just so. . .second nature for Meredith: She screamed into her cell phone when one of her duh friends told her that her new crush had actually looked directly at her on the bus. She screamed when another of the band of genius girls Merry hung around with called to tell her that Uggs were on sale for 20 percent off at the Shoe Barn.

Both girls heard a muffled shout from their mother, Campbell. “What’s going on? It’s six in the morning!”

Merry called, “I’m sorry! I . . . I saw a mouse!”

“Smart move,” Mallory whispered. “She’ll be up here with a trap and peanut butter in fifteen seconds.”

But Campbell only called back, “There’s no mouse. It’s too cold up here for mice!” Merry could hear their father Tim’s muffled oomph as Campbell elbowed him in the side. “Tim, what did you use to insulate this side of the addition? Cotton balls?”

“Will everybody shut up?” Adam, the twins’ younger brother, shouted. “I don’t have to get up for half an hour!”

Mallory examined her ankles and wrists, rubbed her palms, pressed her cheekbones: They were as icy to the touch as if she’d just come off a ski slope, and it had nothing to do with the morning chill on the third story of the ancient house. Mallory felt as exhausted as though she had crawled into her bed after a long journey, climbing foot by foot over boulders, narrowly sliding away from each terrifying crevasse. She might as well not have slept at all.

Abruptly, she looked up at Merry and started to cry.

In a flash, Merry was on her knees, instantly forgetting the crisis that was ruining her life. She had been staring into the mirror for the past hour trying to figure out a way to camouflage the aftermath of an overnight miracle cure for zits given to her by Caitlin’s older sister. “You put toothpaste on the pimples, and they will be gone by morning,” Jackie told Meredith. Jackie was right: The zits were gone, replaced by huge, red, rough, dry patches. Meredith had gone from looking like a ‘Before’ ad for Oxy 10 to a page from a medical book on rare skin diseases.

But none of this mattered now, though, because Mallory was crying.

Mally cried about as often as she bought new clothes—once a year, if she was forced. The last time Merry had seen her twin cry was last summer, at the moment when their grandmother told them that their so-called “gift” would never go away. The terrifying, unwanted visions were to haunt their lives, forever—a fact like the fact that, although they were identical twins, they would never have the same birth year because Merry was born a minute before midnight on New Year’s Eve and Mally a minute after. After the awful visions of last year, it was too much even for Mallory, who was so tough that when she gashed her knee on the soccer field, she did little more than wince. But just a few gentle words from their grandmother about the twins’ legacy and Mally fell apart.

That was reason enough to interrupt Meredith’s crisis.

“Ster,” she asked, using their baby name for each other, “what’s wrong? What happened?”

“I saw a cat.” Mallory gulped, trying to swallow, hiccoughing and rubbing her eyes with the palms of her hands. “In a dream.”

“You . . . saw a cat?” Merry gasped. “That’s all?”

For this she had interrupted her perfectly justified breakdown over the fact that she was going to look like pond scum on the only day of her life she really needed to look good?

Today, the freshmen got the chance—their only chance—to try out for two spots on varsity . . . in front of the varsity cheerleaders, the senior football and basketball players, and the ultra-sexy girls from the pom-pom squad. Sometimes only one was chosen, and there were years when no one was good enough. Merry’s stress over competing against her best friends (or worse, losing out to her best friends) had seeded a pimple plantation and prompted the extreme toothpaste cure.

Meredith didn’t know whether to hug Mallory or push her off the bed. “You’re crying because you dreamed you saw a cat? What’s wrong with you?”

This was the part where Mallory would usually scowl and tell Meredith to get out of her face: forget it, stuff a sock in it, let her alone, no big deal. But this time, pleading with her eyes, Mallory said, “It wasn’t a cat like a kitty cat, Mer. It was a lion. A white mountain lion.”

“A white. Mountain. Lion.” Merry tossed her hair. “Please.”

“It was in school. . . . “

“In school?”

“Yes, in school.”

“Okay. This concerns me, why? I know! Not at all! Mallory, come on. Make sense.”

Merry got up and went back to the mirror and the array of fifteen jars of foundation spread out on the twins’ dressing table.

Then Mallory said softly, “Merry, it was in school, and in the girls’ locker room, where the cheerleaders’ outfits were. There was a row of shoes. . . . “

Merry sat down again.

If it had to do with the cheerleaders, it had to do with Merry. Along with Crystal Fish, she was JV co-captain. Meredith tried to ignore the fact that what Mallory was saying was giving her the telltale swizzle of tiny electrical shocks along her arms that usually signaled a real vision. How could it be? The past visions were strange and fragmentary but had some slight connection with reality. A lion in the locker room? Mallory wouldn’t have cried if an actual lion had walked into the locker room. She’d have climbed up onto a bench and started throwing field hockey sticks at it.

Carefully, Merry said, “Ster, it’s weird and I know it scared you and it probably means something, but I don’t think it means an escaped lion from the circus is going to get into our school and eat somebody. I don’t think it’s that kind of dream. And so now, I have to figure out how I can go to school today without looking like I have leprosy.” More gently, she added, “Stop crying, Mallory. It was just . . . a symbol of your disgust for cheerleaders or something.”

“Merry. I . . . knew her. It. The cat. Personally.”

Merry was giving herself a headache standing up and sitting back down. She could feel a vein in her forehead start to throb.

“You knew the cat,” she said. “Mallory, you sound like . . . me! You mean, the cat was a person in costume? Like a team mascot?”

“No, it wasn’t that.”

“You mean you knew the cat the way you know Sunny’s puppy, Pippen? It was a regular cat in real life but giant-sized in your dream?”

When Mallory looked up, anger in her brimming eyes, Merry quickly recognized her mistake.

“No!” Mally said grimly.

Immediately Meredith said, “I’m sorry! Okay? I’m sorry!”

Mallory glared.

But the mere mention of Sunny Scavo’s dog brought so much dark dust whirling back at them from the past—dust with, in its depths, half-visible things that neither wanted ever to see again. Everyone thought Sunny’s dog had run away. But Mallory’s vision of the dog, tortured by handsome David Jellico, had confirmed their suspicions about David’s “cemetery” for so-called road-killed animals. And the truth about David’s “cemetery” led to so much that the twins had to live with forever, but never tell. Kim Jellico, David’s younger sister, had been Merry’s best friend—at least until last spring. Merry had even had a schoolgirl crush on David.

But as their visions about David escalated into nightmares when he began stalking bigger game than cats and dogs, the twins were pushed into an elaborate game of cat-and-mouse. Scared out of their minds, they interrupted David’s dates and showed up where they learned he would be, trying to make sure that David was never alone with a girl. And at last, he got wise. When they showed up in the muddy rubble of a new housing development where David had trapped some poor girl, no one knew what would have happened if Mallory hadn’t found a nail gun left behind by one of the builders and used it to threaten David if he didn’t stop.

But David didn’t stop.

He stopped only when he fell to his death from Crying Woman Ridge, in a face-off with Merry, who he had cornered on the empty road up into the hills. As Merry stumbled with her bloody knees, some sight or sound had frightened David a moment before he would have shoved Merry to the rocks far below.

The whole mess was proof that what began the previous New Year’s Eve was no passing mischief.

Still, they would never know everything that David had done in his hilltop garden. Yes, if some poor girl was buried up there, her parents should know. But David and Kim’s mom, Bonnie Jellico, an operating-room nurse, had been their mother’s closest friend forever. The twins couldn’t turn to their own parents. With what proof? As it was, Campbell had them evaluated for everything from seizures to hormone imbalances. After the death, all they wanted was blessed ignorance. All they wanted was their own lives. As if they could ever have them again.

It started on their thirteenth birthday, when they were stuck at their uncle Kevin’s, babysitting their brother and little cousins. At ten o’clock, a burst of fireworks—not firecrackers but the kind people saw at displays on the Fourth of July—went off outside. Suddenly, the roof was ablaze, exploding an ordinary dull evening into the deadliest night of their lives. Mallory was barely able to roll off the couch as the roof of the wraparound porch collapsed and the living room curtains swooped down in wings of flame. Confused by the darkness, choking on the smoke, she couldn’t find her way. But with the kids herded to safety, Meredith crawled back into the black inferno of the living room. She knew only that unless she could find Mallory’s hand, she would not be divided but erased. Risking her life to save her twin was risking her life to save her own.

And she had.

Somehow, Merry hauled her twin across the floor and out the door before both of them lost consciousness.

When they wakened in the hospital, they were grateful for their lives but alarmed that something between them had been severed forever. At first, they thought it might just be the shock of the fire and the rescue. But though the plum sunburn on Mallory’s seared face faded, the scars on Merry’s palms from her rescue mission were permanent. For the twins, those scars became a symbol of how they had “disconnected” after the fire.

Somehow, it burned away some essential part of their twin-ness.

If anyone had asked them before the fire, neither might have been able to put into words what that meant. It was beyond words—like the Northern Lights, a natural phenomenon that looked like magic except to people who saw it every day. Even their parents never questioned that Mallory and Meredith could talk to each other with their minds as readily as other people talked to each other with their voices. And though this remained, they still felt severed. They were shut out of each other’s dreams, which used to flow between their sleeping minds, and could only find each other’s thoughts with hard work, like picking locks. Their sight was turned outward, instead of trained on each other. The visions came in dreams, then in tiny fainting spells. But always, the visions came.

After David’s death, they thought it was over until their grandmother, Gwenny Brynn, a twin who was the daughter of a twin and the granddaughter of a twin—all of whom had “the sight”—told them they would be this way forever.

But still, the girls only half believed her.

Until that Monday in fall when Mallory woke screaming, the other half kept hoping.

BACK TO THE FUTURE

Now, a huge gust of October wind threw the nearly bare branches of the huge maple outside the girls’ window with the tapping of a hundred skeleton fingers, as if to remind them: It was back and waiting.

“There’s nothing we can do but be ready,” Mallory said to Merry.

“I don’t think you ever get to be ready,” Merry answered. “Last time, it took us totally by surprise. We didn’t believe it. I think that’s a pattern. If it was reasonable, and you had a warning and could figure it out, it wouldn’t be psychicism.”

“I don’t think it’s psychicism now,” Mallory answered. “I don’t know what to call it but that’s not exactly a word. In our language.”

“Well, psychic-ish,” Merry said. “Visionism. Mediumism.”

“You’re right about one thing. There’s no name for it. And it smacks you right across the shoulder blades just when you think you’ve got a big lead on it.”

They both thought of the long, clean, green, and vanished summer.

The hassles of being the pre-clairvoyant Brynn twins—the teasing for being both the smallest and the youngest kids in their grade, the odd looks Mallory got from a teacher when she couldn’t for the life of her remember even the name of the French national anthem and then, after a mental call for help to Merry, suddenly sang out the first line with perfect enunciation—it all seemed so sweet and far away.

“It really was great compared to now,” Mallory said, agreeing with an observation Meredith hadn’t spoken—at least not aloud. “I’d give my left molar to change it back.”

“You and me both,” Merry said.

“You know what Mom says: If wishes were horses . . . “

“. . . Everybody would have one,” Merry finished for her.

“No. It’s: If wishes were horses, beggars would ride!” Mally said impatiently. “It means that everyone wishes for things that they can’t have, and if wishes came true, even poor people would be like everyone else.”

“But they’d still want horses.”

Mallory sighed. “Oh, Merry, you’ll never change.” She thought, I’d never have believed how comforting that would be. For an instant, Mallory cherished how Merry would always be the embodiment of her nickname—a buoyant performer who would rather talk to the Animal Channel than be quiet.

And Merry, who usually despaired of Mallory, an antisocial lump who liked only soccer and soap operas, suddenly couldn’t imagine a world without Mallory, who thought she looked just great in her mesh gym shorts two sizes too big.

Merry’s hair still parted on the right and Mally’s on the left. Merry still wrote with her right hand and Mallory with her left. They still had identical sprinkles of cinnamon freckles across their noses. They still each weighed ninety pounds and stood 4’ 11 ¼” tall.

No one except the twins would have seen them as different from before or different from each other.

No one could have grasped just how miserable it was to again have to face the fact that they were independent beings with independent psychic powers.

“I started to think it was over too,” Merry began. “And not because everything’s orange Jell-O to me, like you keep saying to everyone. I take it as seriously as you do.”

“It’s just that you haven’t had a dream like the old ones yet, and you’ll know when you do,” Mally said darkly.

“I’m not stupid, Mallory. They look different.”

Mallory perked up. “They do to you too? Is it like . . . I don’t know . . . they’re like movies. Like a real film instead of a soap opera?”

“They’re deeper,” Meredith agreed, but added, “I wish we didn’t know that.”

“I wish someone besides Grandma knew that we did,” Mallory admitted. “Someone . . . normal. Not that Grandma’s not normal.”

“I know what you mean. Someone like . . . us.”

“Our age,” Mally said, and thought for a moment how, last winter, she’d begun to confide in one of her older teammates on the Eighty-Niners, Eden Cardinal. Eden seemed to understand—to more than understand, really. But Mallory stopped short of telling the whole truth. What if Eden really knew? She’d run. She’d think Mallory was a head case . . . or worse. It was too much to risk. Eden was a junior, a popular junior, and the closest thing Mallory had to an actual girl friend. She went out of her way to call Mallory, to come over and force her to come out for a cup of coffee at Latte Java—even after both twins withdrew into a closed society of two following David’s death. Mallory was grateful. But if regular people knew the real story . . . what if they thought that she and her sister were involved in David’s gruesome games? No, no, no. Having secrets was horrible. Being alone with them was horrible. The only worse thing would be other people knowing.

“You’re right,” Merry said. “They’d just talk about us later.”

“I didn’t say that. Did you hear me?”

“No, it was honest-to-God just a hunch,” Merry admitted. Without meaning to, for a moment, both of them grinned.

“Drew doesn’t,” Mally said. “He knows and he doesn’t talk about us.”

“Drew only knows the outlines,” Merry pointed out.

Drew Vaughn, their neighbor, had known the twins since they were born. Even the terrors of the past ten months hadn’t scared him off. In fact, he’d lost his job because of the number of times during the David crisis that he had run off to answer the twins’ strange requests or panicky phone calls. Because he was steadfast, they got to keep their lives, at least from the outside. Merry’s friends could still be counted on to swear friendship forever or war to the end—and you could be sure that the vows would last the entire weekend. Big mouths on the team made snide remarks about Mally being so short, she could run through the legs of the defenders, until she brought the Eighty-Niners another trophy. Their mother was a stickler, their brother infuriating, their father happily flaky.

What the twins had become might be as big and mysterious as a dark galaxy, but it could never consume their small, bright, ordinary, annoying, and beloved world.

And now, they would hold on to that world like a rope in a high wind.

THE END OF INNOCENCE

By the time Mallory had showered away her tears and Merry had applied enough makeup to resemble a Kabuki dancer, both girls were composed enough to race downstairs, grab a bagel, and jump into Drew’s car. Merry planned her own dash with care. Although she normally wouldn’t have been caught dead in a hoodie, she borrowed one of her sister’s biggest ones to slip out under cover before her mother noticed how peculiar she looked.

“You’re postponing the inevitable,” Mallory told her.

“Exactly,” her twin agreed.

Merry’s mother was usually halfway ready to be in a bad mood just from having twins who were almost fourteen and an eleven-year-old son. She was freshly frazzled by a new full-time job as the chief emergency room nurse at Ridgeline Memorial. It was a crushing schedule with more chaos than Campbell liked. Sleep had become her sacrament, and the twins had awakened her by yelling. So Merry was already on thin ice when, just two strides from the door, she heard her mother say, “Meredith. What happened to your face?”

Merry said, “I’m . . . I’m trying a new makeup.”

“You look like you escaped from the mummy diorama at the Natural History Museum.”

“If I take it off, it’ll be worse.”

Campbell lowered her newspaper. “I, ah, doubt that.”

Meredith grabbed a clean washcloth, ran it under the tap, and dabbed at a small place on her forehead. She turned to face her mom. Campbell stood up. “Meredith!”

“I wanted my skin to be clear for tryouts!” Merry pleaded.

“So you touched it up with a blowtorch?” her mom asked, as skeevy little Adam started making noises like the sound of bacon frying.

Reluctantly, Merry explained the toothpaste cure.

“Brilliant,” Campbell said. “That’s brilliant, Meredith. Could I have a minute’s peace? Well. Let’s get some heavy-duty moisturizer on it. And I’ll ask a dermatologist if there’s something I can bring at noon.” She began dabbing judiciously at Meredith’s temples. “It’s worse up here. You’ll be lucky if this clears up by Christmas!”

“That’s three months!”

“I was exaggerating,” said Campbell. “But winter’s clearly coming early if mice are coming in.”

The house did have an unseasonable chill for so early in October. Tim banned heat until Halloween. For a few weeks, they’d have to get out the sweaters with the big weird flowers and farm animals on them, the ones knitted by Grandma Gwenny—which no one ever wore anywhere outside except to Grandma’s or places like church, where no one cared if you looked like you were wearing the wrapping paper for a fruitcake.

“Mom, you’re an angel,” Merry said fervently, hugging Campbell impulsively.

“Everyone says so,” Campbell replied, giving Merry a shoulder squeeze when her usual behavior would have been to wrap her daughter in an octopus grip. She turned back to her newspaper, and, with just the wisp of a puzzled glance, Meredith ran out the door. Mallory was slipping into the front seat and withdrawing into the tent of her own hoodie.

“What’s up, Brynn?” Drew asked. He meant Mallory, who was truly his buddy and who wouldn’t have answered if he’d called her by anything but her last name.

“Didn’t sleep much,” Mallory said. “Didn’t go for my run, so I’m not awake. And I don’t feel like talking.”

“What else?”

“If I wanted to tell you why I’m not talking, then I’d be talking. Which I’m not.”

“Meow!” Drew said.

Merry spoke up, “That reminds me. I had this idea about the lion . . . . “

“Laybite!” Mallory cautioned her, using their old twin-language for “Stop it!” She said again, so quietly Drew didn’t hear, “Laybite, shosi-on-up-on.”

“Excuse me for thinking!” Merry snapped.

“Don’t bother,” Mallory told Merry. “I’ll let it pass because you don’t do it much.”

“Lions and tigers and bears, oh my,” Drew teased them. “Maybe you’re wearing animal prints to Homecoming. Isn’t that what they call them? My mom says those are in this year.” Merry smirked. No one ever saw Mrs. Vaughn’s clothes because, although Drew’s sisters were in college, their mom still put on an apron the size of a pup tent and baked five loaves of bread and five dozen cookies a week. She must leave them on people’s porches after dark, the way Aunt Kate did with bags of carrots and zucchini. “Aren’t dresses on the tiny minds of females this time of year?”

“In your dreams,” Mally said. “Which is to say, not mine.”

“Oh well,” Drew said, cranking up one of the ancient rock CDs in his collection. “Stop praying. I’ve already got a date.”

Mally sighed. “I should warn her you have athlete’s foot.”

“Don’t try to fool me, Brynn. I know you’re speechless.”

“That would be because I’m sleeping. I can get in ten good minutes before school. It’s freezing in here.” As if it heard her, the wind obligingly blew a bushel of dry leaves through the passenger-side window. Mallory sat up to spit out a mouthful. “Ugh! I just used Pearl Strips on my teeth.” Both of them stared at her, Drew nearly taking out his own mailbox. “Well, don’t look like I said I had a hair transplant! I do like my teeth to be nice!”

“Pearl Strips?” Meredith gasped. “You just started flossing last year!”

This is Monday to the tenth power, Mallory thought.

“It doesn’t close,” Drew apologized. “The window fell down into the well that day I bulldozed the housing development playing mortal combat with David Jellico.”

“Which we jokingly refer to as the first time he tried to kill me and my sister,” Mally snapped.

“Forgive me for wrecking my car to stop him! How quickly we forget the knight in shining armor!”

“Hardly shining . . . Mally said, stifling a yawn. Drew’s green Toyota was now verifiably two-tone, rust-over-emerald.

“Jeez, Brynn! You’re snarky even for you. What’s eating you this morning?” Drew asked, leaning across Mallory to turn up the volume on the CD player. As quickly as he did, Merry slipped out and back into her seat belt in order to turn it back down.

“You don’t have to blast that thing!” Merry shouted. “I am a human being too, you know. You can talk to me.”

“Okay,” Drew said, “I’m loving the mask.”

Blushing, although no one could tell, Merry said, “It’s a skin treatment.” Merry had just applied a new layer of makeup over the moisturizer.

“Hope it works,” Drew said. “I mean that sincerely.”

They passed Tony Arno, who ran the five miles to school in miniscule shorts until the temperatures hit the single digits—to the disgust of all the guys and the rapture of the girls—and somehow never stank the rest of the day. “Hi, Tony!” Merry called out the window, smacking heads with her sister, who appeared not to waken. “He’s so cute. He could have any girl.”

“Yes, he’s very cute,” Drew agreed with a sigh. “Especially the Speedo.”

“You’re just jealous. I heard he likes Neely,” Meredith went on. She began to chatter about Neely Chaplin, the new girl from Chicago, and Merry and Caitlin’s only real rival for the second spot on varsity. Meredith didn’t want to brag, she said, but she basically considered her own spot assured. Her tumbling alone would nail it.

“I may have ignored this before,” Drew said. “Ten times at least, but not because it isn’t fascinating.”

“Drew, you know flyers are the hardest to find.”

“Absolutely. I have a hard time finding you if your dad forgets to cut the grass. Or forgets to get me to cut it.”

The last few blocks were crowded with bikers and, as they neared the school, the smokers, who gathered around the fire hydrant at the required fifty feet from the school entrance, exactly opposite the picture window of the principal’s office.

By that point, Meredith had wound herself up so tightly on the subject of tryouts that she was like a mechanized toy, practically bouncing in the seat; she couldn’t have stopped if Drew had burst into flames. As he turned into the lot, Merry went on, “You know, Drew, small can be weak. And you can be a flyer and still be a lousy tumbler. But if you’re strong, you can be too big to get thrown. I can do both. That’s why Crystal isn’t all-around. Imagine trying to lift Crystal Fish on one shoulder.”

“I actually imagine that quite a bit,” Drew said. Crystal was totally gorgeous, all five feet, eight inches of her, with twisty blond hair that hung to her hips and legs that the boys at Ridgeline seemed to consider some kind of local resource, like a silver mine.

“Don’t be such a stereotype. Guys revolt around Crystal like planets around the sun,” Merry said. “It’s absurd.”

“They revolve, you mean,” Drew said gently.

“They revolt around you,” Mallory said, waking up.

“It’s true. I haven’t had a serious relationship in six months,” Merry said. “Am I doing something wrong?”

Table of contents

Look Both Ways

Copyright

ONCE MORE INTO THE DREAM

COMPLEX GIFTS

BACK TO THE FUTURE

THE END OF INNOCENCE

GOLDEN EYES

THE CHEER NOT SPOKEN

SPLIT DIVISION

ALL FALL DOWN

PAST OR FUTURE?

THE NEELY FACTOR

EDEN’S GIFT

POWWOW

PRINCESS

COOPER

LAP BABY MOON

LOOK BOTH WAYS

THE INTRUDER

THE EVIDENCE

SECOND TRY

BASKET CATCH

TWO FOR THE SHOW

EDEN’S WAY

THE HUNTER

AT THE VERGE

THE CAT

LITTLE BROTHER

UNDER A WING

SONG OF JOY, SONG OF SORROW

RECKONING AND RECOGNITION

ON THE NIGHT THEY WERE BORN

THE ESCAPE

SISTERS

DUEL

EVER AFTER

INTO THE LIGHT

LITTLE SISTER OF THE DARK

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS