Us & Others

The Set Back: Minverva Drew McKinney

My earliest memory is a bloodied tree. It was the dead of winter. It was my fourth birthday. Mom had just gotten me a bunny for my birthday; Maine got a turtle. I named my bunny Mister Hops. Maine wanted to know if bunnies could fly. She climbed to the top of the playset in our backyard and let go. Mister Hops landed on one of my dad's shovels(propped up against a weeping willow) and was sliced in half. Mister Hops washed the tree incarnadine. I rushed outside at the sound of Mister Hops' anguished cries. Pieces of him slipping and sliding against the pure snow, twitching on either side of the shovel and displayed against crismon bark was the first of many Maine made imprints on my brain.

I cried the hardest I've ever cried that evening;I cried because Mister Hops was gone. Maine cried harder than me;Maine cried because it pained her to discover that bunnies can't fly.

The snow began to fall shortly after: a blizzard. Overnight, the crime scene had been buried. Four year old me rationalized that Mister Hops could now only exist in my mind, where Maine could not reach him.

Mister Hops was the first of many things that I had to hide from Maine: toys, friends, crushes, hopes, desires, thoughts...

Something more sinister than curiosity took precedence over Maine, this possessive desire. Maine needed to have control over everything. She'd studied a thing day in and day out in pursuit of authority because the best way to gain authority over something is to rain omnipotent over it. Become a god. Those who follow Gods wear collars labeled faith. Maine wanted to be a God.

Around the time her breasts developed, she discovered that knowledge no longer remained supreme. She was only an A cup and was no longer queen of the playground. However was she to keep her subjects in line if she was no longer the prettiest princess? Simple: Seth. Candice.

Seth appeared in town towards the end of middle school. Even then, he could sell salt to the ocean and turn a profit. Him and Maine hit it off;they'd rule together in harmony. Not even a month after they met, they ran havoc amongst the proles. They created a "project" entitled Crush Clues where they charged a quarter per hint to those who wanted to know who in school was crushing on them. Maine found out all the hot goss, and Seth convinced everyone they had a long line of crushes. Chaos ensued only a week in. Wild fights. Destroyed Friendships. Crumbling self-esteem. Parent complaints rose, forcing the principal to get involved. Thanks to Seth, they got away with a stern warning. A stern warning...for causing WWII amongst a gaggle of pre-teens.

Maine wanted to keep Seth all to herself, but didn't need me going astray, wandering off towards another deity. So, she dragged me everywhere with her, and that usually meant with Seth. He wasn't kind to me. He wasn't evil. I wasn't his rival or partner or subject, so he mostly paid me no mind. I loved him for it. Still do.

You see, Maine always found some way to keep everyone else at distance. Our parents, blissfully ignorant, saw us as two birds of a feather. Friends and suitors were scared of Maine. She's the kind of gal who could get you fired, bullied, and or expelled with a quick Google search. Who would dare even speak to her little, twin sister? They'd have their lives destroyed in an instant. But Seth, Seth was an exception to this rule. Seth could ask me about my day. Seth could each lunch with me. Seth could give me a fist bump, and whenever he was feeling really affectionate (or plastered) he could hug me. So I loved him, 'cause he was the only one who could love me.

I became complacent with my life. There was nothing wrong with being locked away in a tower if you really enjoyed the view. I found myself writing and drawing and writing and drawing and writing and drawing day in and day out, creating all the worlds I wanted to see and people I wanted to be. It paid off. I got a scholarship that'd take me to the west coast where I could pursue my dream of becoming a graphic novelist. It was my way out, my way away from Maine.