The Twaintet Twins

Ben Twaintet

This freaking sucks. Yes, I said freaking. Whenever people hear I'm smart, they think I love school and say things like illness instead of sickness. So basically, my older siblings are sick in bed, my twin sister is stuck in bed, and I STILL HAVE TO GO TO SCHOOL!!! Plus, my head hurts. I can't believe I'm on bus 164, heading to the Regional Center for Gifted Children.

RCGC is so stuck up. Just look at the name! I wouldn't say I exactly like the way it smells. Under all the air freshener, it still smells like B.O. Under the fancy plaques, the office is still a school office. Under the shirts with nerd jokes, the kids are normal. They still play sports, have crushes, fake sick, and get sick. Speaking of which, I want to go home. The world is spinning, and my vision is tunneling.

I stumble blindly to the office. They asked for my tardy slip. I explain that I don't feel well and can tell they're suspicious. But I call Mom, who comes to pick me up.

The drive home is unbearable. At every bump, I get closer to the inevitable. But as we go over the last pothole before our house, I vomit. It is chunky and greenish-tan. It smells like death. And the stench doesn't go away. When we pull up, Mom explains where everybody is. Abby and Bren are downstairs. Alex is on the mend, so he is on the couch.

Alex gives us a weak wave before sticking his head in the bucket. Downstairs, Bren is moaning, and Abby is heaving. I collapse down onto the bed near the floor before falling asleep.

I had just turned seven. Brenna, Abby, Alex, Dahlia, and Claudia are all sick. I had been coughing for most of yesterday. Dad is putting four bunk beds into the bedroom attached to the basement. We already have a guestroom, so this is our new infirmary. Claudia insists we get matching sheets and wallpaper, with a little area for makeup. Even at five, she is a spoilt brat. She never changes.

I wake up when Claudia opens the door. She says in her snotty voice, "Hey, sick dweebs. How are you today, losers? Abs, I brought you some homework and makeup. Ben and Brenna, I would have to walk to the bus station to get your homework, so I didn't. I brought you some books. Later, dweebs."

I hate her. I do.