What You're Not | ✔

23. Choices

"The model search is going great," Jem announced as we walked towards the school's exit.

It was the end of the day and I was completely drained. All I wanted was to go home and crash for a few hours. However, the Twins kindly reminded me that wasn't going to happen. There was no time for napping when I had to put together twelve outfits from scratch.

"The sign-up sheet was filled in like an hour. I'm going to have to say no to so many people." She frowned and Kimber laughed, taking us both by surprise.

"Sorry, it's hilarious that you're acting like you have an issue turning people down."

Jem stopped in her tracks, causing a slight traffic jam in the crowded hall as Kimber and I stopped as well. They must still be fuming from their fight yesterday.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jem questioned, planting her hands on her hips. The way she towered over Kimber made her look intimidating, Kimber didn't back down, though.

"You've been shooting down any ideas I've had for the show and for cheer all day," Kimber accused, matching her sister's stance.

"Those weren't ideas, they were demands. You're just pissed off because I'm not letting you boss me around anymore," Jem spat.

A small crowd had began to form and I didn't know if I should step in or let them duke it out. Sibling rivalries weren't my area of expertise.

"Sue me for trying to help!"

"You mean take over, like you take over everything," Jem said, rolling her eyes. "I'm head cheerleader. A fact you continuously forget. And since the fashion show wouldn't be a thing without Loren, maybe she should be in charge of that."

Their gaze shifted to me and my mind blanked. They were waiting for me to say something. My stress levels were high enough with just the sewing to worry about. I didn't want to be in charge of the entire project. Admitting that would mean siding with Kimber and I didn't want to pick a side.

My view of the Twins was blocked by someone in a red and gold varsity jacket. My eyes traveled up, meeting with a pair of pale green ones.

"I really need to talk to you," Miles said. Gently placing his hand around my wrist, he lead me out of the building. "That was close," he chuckled as we stopped over by the parking lot.

I didn't know what is was that he really needed to talk about and I was about to tell him to go talk to Vivian until I realized what he had said.

"What was close?" I questioned, raising a brow.

"You never want to get in the middle of one of their fights," he told me, a serious look on his face.

"They fight a lot?"

"Not this bad. The last time was in second grade," he informed me, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. "There were casualties." My brow creased as I waited for an explanation. "Charlie, the class pet. They were in charge of it for the week and learned the hard way that you shouldn't play tug of war with a bird."

The image of two seven-year-olds accidently murdering a bird was now burned into my brain.

"You were very close to becoming that bird."

I grimaced at the thought. "Thanks."

"Yeah, no problem," he reaching a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. That's when I realized he was wearing my stolen beanie. I could ask for it back, but I doubt he'd give it up. It looked better on him anyway. "Are you coming to the game on Friday?"