Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [34]
All because she had been blessed with smaller boobs than Mary Theresa.
What a joke.
Now, as she stroked easily backward through the sun-warmed water, she told herself not to let Mary Theresa bug her. Lately Mary had been edgy, restless, and secretive. Several times Maggie had come upon her sister and cousin Mitch, whom her parents had adopted before the twins had been born and after his mother had died. They just hung out watching TV or listening to tapes of the Rolling Stones or Pink Floyd. They’d been laughing and talking, pushing each other. Upon spying Maggie, they’d both shut up, smiled falsely, and acted like stone statues. They pretended that nothing was out of the ordinary when there were all sorts of weird vibes sizzling through the air.
It was as if Maggie was suddenly the outsider, when, for most of her time on this earth, she and Mary Theresa had considered Mitch a pain in the butt—the one member of their family who hadn’t fit in.
Mitch had worked hard to foster that separateness, not wanting his younger, dweeby cousins-cum-sisters anywhere near him from the time he’d entered kindergarten. He’d acted as if Maggie and Mary Theresa were strychnine, and his attitude had only gotten worse as the years rolled on.
When the girls had been in second grade, their mother insisted that he walk them to school. He’d grudgingly agreed, as he’d had no choice in the matter, but the minute they turned the corner and were out of view from the kitchen window, he’d ditched them and sworn he’d “beat the shit” out of them if either twin had the guts to rat him out to their parents.
“He’s a jerk,” Mary Theresa had decided.
“Who needs him?” Maggie had preferred to walk to school on her own anyway. “He’s just a pain.”
Mitch had gone to great lengths to show his disdain of the girls. He’d laughed at them with his friends, shown Maggie’s diary to anyone who wanted a peek, and put locks on the door of his room to make sure they wouldn’t violate his privacy and sanctuary.
But now things had changed. Mitch’s animosity had diminished, and Mary T, as he called her, didn’t seem to mind hanging out with him. Maggie secretly thought Mary Theresa had finally figured out that Mitch’s heretofore nerdy friends had become hot when they’d started driving, playing varsity sports, and growing serious facial hair where there had once only been severe cases of acne. Whatever the reason, these days Mary Theresa spent more time with Mitch and his friends than she did with Maggie.
Not that it mattered a whole lot. Sure, Maggie missed hanging out with her twin, but it wasn’t the end of the world. They were starting to separate finally, their interests weren’t the same anymore, and probably the biggest reason they didn’t get along was that Maggie refused to be led by the nose by her sister.
Mary Theresa had always made the decisions about what they were going to do, what friends they would share, or where they would go. But Maggie was sick of it. Sick of being a twin. Especially being the paler version of her flashy sister.
When they had started having “woman cycles” or “the monthly curse,” as their mother had called their periods, Mary Theresa was the first to get a cramp and therefore able to give Maggie more advice than she’d ever hoped to hear by the time her body had come to grips with womanhood six weeks later. Somehow it made Mary Theresa a know-it-all on all things related to blossoming womanhood and femininity.
A few years back Mary Theresa had gotten into clothes and nail polish and lipstick and listening to music that didn’t appeal to Maggie. She’d taken to smoking cigarettes in her room and blowing the smoke out her window late at night, bleaching streaks into her hair, and sneaking out once in a while, never confiding in Maggie about where