What You're Not | ✔

24. In Between

As soon as I got off the school bus the next morning, I went to find Miles. I'd spent a small chunk of my time last night creating the perfect apology letter for him. Well, it was more of an apology card. It would still get my point across, though.

Just as I suspected Miles was in the quad, sitting at one of the picnic tables and looking down at his phone. He was alone like he always was in the morning. Maybe because he was the only one crazy enough to sit outside in thirty-degree weather.

"Here's your apology." I dropped the envelope on the table in front of him, then took a seat across from him.

He let out a small laugh. "I wasn't expecting you to actually do it."

"I said I would, so there it is." I only hoped my expression looked as impassive as I wanted. Any laughter could make him suspicious.

Watching as he unsealed the envelope and pulled out the card, I found keeping a straight face difficult. It didn't help that he was taking his precious time with it.

"You did this yourself?" He pointed to the lettering on the card and I nodded. Looking at the card now, I realized just how much time spent I spent on it. 

The word "sorry" was written in a font you'd find in someone's bullet journal. My handwriting had never looked so neat.

When he finally pulled the card open he was hit with an explosion of colorful confetti and broke into a laughing fit.

He chuckled as he removed pieces of paper from his lips. "I didn't know you were a prankster."

"My pranks are reserved for only my favorite people." I smirked.

"Should I be honored or terrified?" He questioned, dusting more confetti from his jacket.

"Both," I said. "So, how does Saturday work for you?"

"I'll be there."

+ + +

The moment I stepped into Mrs. Hawk's classroom I knew something was off. There was tension in the air and it wasn't hard to figure out why.

Every day since I started at Westbrook Kimber and Jem had worn the same outfit, hair style, even make up. They were The Twins.

Today, they were opposites. Jem wore all white and Kimber was dressed head to toe in black.

Even Kimber's lettering, as she wrote out today's agenda, lacked its usual flare. Jem seemed uninterested as she tapped away at her phone screen, sitting at a desk on the far side of the room.

Riley and Chelsea were sitting in the middle row, watching the two cautiously. I joined them.

"What's going on with them?" I asked, quietly.

"Kimber says she's mourning the loss of her best friend," Riley whispered back, not taking her eyes off of them. "Jem says she celebrating her freedom."

"This is so unnatural. The Twins aren't twins and it's scary," Chelsea chimed in dramatically. "Can't you two talk it out like adults?"

Jem looked up from her phone. "I have no issue having an adult conversation about this, but that's impossible to get with the control freak."

Kimber whipped around, pointing the uncapped, black, whiteboard marker at her sister. "I'm not trying to control you, I'm giving you advice."

"Advice I don't want."

"It's advice you need. You're dating a freaking drug dealer," Kimber exclaimed, causing Chelsea to gasp.

Who knew Jem was into bad boys?