The cold wind bit at my face and numbed my ears. Charlie’s hand was cold in mine. I realized that in our rush, we had forgotten our jackets. You could hardly call my long sleeved red shirt protection against the wind. And Charlie was only wearing an elbow-length shirt, and she was shivering visibly.

“Wait, stop, Reeve, please,” Charlie was panting heavily, tugging down on my hand. “Just stop for a sec,”

I skidded in my tracks and stopped, my sides heaving. I judged that we had run about three blocks without stopping. We were standing on a corner and there were no cars coming.

I glanced back at my sister, who was bending over and tying her shoes.

“Charlie,” I said to her. “We need to go. What if he’s already in his black truck, chasing us down?”

Charlie glanced at me. “Reeve, you’re being ri-”

But then the full meaning of what I just said dawned on her.

“Reeve, you just. You. Uh, WHAT?” She gaped at me, her eyes widening. “Reeve, you.. You didn’t stutter! Like, at all!”

At first I didn’t understand her. What? I had stuttered. I heard myself stutter. What was she hearing?

“Charlie,” I began, hearing the stutter in my words. “I don’t know what kind of world you’re living in, but I’m still a stuttering freak.”

She gasped, and squealed like the teenage girl she was. “Reeve! You’re not stuttering! I don’t know what you’re hearing, but when you talk to me, you don’t stutter!”

What? I thought in shock. “Listen, Charlie,” I began. “I’m stuttering right now. See?” I pointed to my mouth, as if it were obvious.

“Reeve!” Charlie shouted gleefully at me. “Dude, you’re not stuttering! What in the world are you hearing right now? I can hear every word you’re saying, and you’re not stuttering!”

She grabbed my arms and shook me. “Reeve, say it with me. ‘You’re-not-stuttering!’”

I said it, real slow. And then I realized.

“My god, you’re right, Charlie!” I shouted. I slapped a hand over my mouth, then massaged my throat. It started to sting. “Ow.”

Charlie was right in my face. “What? What’s wrong? Are you having an attack again? Are you okay? Tell me!”

“I…” I began, my brows furrowed. “I don’t know, I feel kinda... funny?”

“Like, a good kind of funny?” She asked hopefully. “Or… bad kind of funny?”

“It, uh.” I began confusedly. “I’m pretty sure it’s a good funny. I feel fine, really.”

My sister smiled at me, but then it disappeared. “How come you don’t stutter when you talk to me? I mean, I’m super happy, but you stutter around dad, and you stuttered around mom. How come you don’t stutter when you talk to me?”

“Um, I don’t know,” I racked my brain to try to find a solution to this so called ‘problem’. “Maybe my throat just doesn’t want to stutter around you?” I shook my head. “But it doesn’t matter, right? I’ll just go back to being a stuttering freak tomorrow, so let’s enjoy this moment of f-f-freedom?”

Oh, great. I’ve already reverted back to my old ways. I tried hard to keep a happy expression on my face, but failed miserably. The stutter-free moment had gone as quickly as it had come.

“Oh, Reeve,” Charlie said, tears welling up in her big dark green eyes. She hugged me fiercely. “It’s okay, We’ll find a way to help you stop stuttering for good.”

“I-I wish-wish that we-were p-p-posible,” I muttered, burying my face into my sister’s shoulder. We stood there like that, drinking in each other's presence. We knew that we’d be separated in different rooms when we’d get home, and we’d be visited by the belt for about three hours. We wouldn’t be able to comfort each other in the moments of great, excruciating pain.

Charlie pulled back, but still held onto my arms. “C’mon, we should get going. Don’t wanna be late on the first day now, do we?”

A sad smile creeped across my face. “Y-y-you s-sound like-like mom,” I stammered.

Charlie caressed my cheek. “And you look and act like mom,” She patted my shoulder, then jogged across the street to wait for me to follow her.

High School, here we come.

Charlie and I walked up to the double doors of Silver Mountain High School and pulled them open at the same time. We held hands as our feet crossed over the threshold of the school. Our heads swiveled this way and that to survey our new ‘home’ for two years. Charlie always called school her second home ‘cause she spent so much time in the library here after school.

There was a lady standing in the middle of the hallway yelling instructions at bumbling new students. She had a walkie-talkie attached to her belt and an earpiece hooked over her ear. She was wearing a black striped shirt, and she wore the expression of a person not wanting to be here.

“Hats and hoods off in the building!” she yelled. “New kids, get to your locker and go to your first period class or else you’ll be spending your first day with the principal!”

I flinched as we walked past her. She glanced and me and my sister, then flicked to our intertwined hands. She winked at me and smiled. Oh, great. One person already thinks we’re dating!

I opened my mouth to protest, but shut it immediately.No one can know that I stutter.

Charlie dragged me to the stairs and we climbed one step at a time. We were in no hurry.

We made it up and walked down a long hallway, lined with lockers on either side of us. I scanned the locker numbers, hoping to find mine.

“Oh, hey Reeve?” Charlie said, glancing at me. “We’re gonna be sharing a locker, okay? I already talked to the office about it. And we’re in the same classes too,”

I nodded at her and smiled, showing her I was happy with the choice she made. Dad would flip if he ever found out that she talked to someone at school. He would be so angry at us if he ever found out what we were doing right now.

New students walked and ran past us, some bumping against me and walking alongside Charlie. There was a guy that caught my attention real fast. He was leaning against what I assumed to be his locker. He stared at my twin sister with an undisguised longing in his eyes. He made a move forward, but then caught the sight of mine and Charlie’s intertwined hands, and pulled a disappointed look on his face.

Great, soon the whole school is gonna think we’re dating. I glared at the guy, and he turned around, hiding his blushing face. No one will touch my sister.

“This is it, Reeve,” Charlie said, dragging me toward a locker positioned at the end. “It’s two-four-six-eight, got that?”

I nodded.

“The combo’s 2-6-4-6, ‘kay?”

I nodded again. Charlie spun the lock on the locker until the dial lined up with the numbers corresponding. She popped it open on the first try. She swung her her backpack down at her feet and pulled her binder out of it. I did the same. Charlie put both our backpacks on the hooks inside the locker. I smashed the locker closed, and Charlie yelped at the loud noise.

She recomposed herself, then took hold of my hand again and we made our way to a classroom down the hall. We made our way through crowds of students, -which were all taller than us- until we got to the classroom.

I glanced at the name tag outside of the door.

Mrs. Taylor, it read.

Sounds nice enough, I thought drily as me and my twin walked through the door.

I immediately took the seat farthest away from the board and the door. So technically, I sat in the left corner. Charlie sat on my right.

Please say there’s no assigned seats. Please say there’s no assigned seats.

I sat my binder down and pulled out a pencil and eraser. I was more or less prepared.

A girl with black hair sat in front of my sister. The girl slipped her over-the-ear headphones on and disappeared from reality.

A guy walked in and sat on Charlie’s right. I realized him as the guy who had looked at Charlie in the hallway. He was wearing a jacket and didn’t carry a binder, or even a pencil.

A redhead girl strode in with her head held high and sat at the very front of the row. She looked around at everyone and smiled. Nobody acknowledged her existence.

Another boy walked in. He wore a red jersey with the number thirty two on the back, and was tall and muscular. He’s probably on the football team, I thought.

A girl with deep black hair sat in front of me, her hoop earrings catching the light and shining in my eyes. I’d guess she’s a popular one.

A brunette girl ran in, wearing ripped jeans and a jean jacket. She sat in front of the popular girl, and they immediately turned around and started talking to each other.

Another boy with marshmallow white fluffy hair sat by the guy sitting by Charlie. They fist bumped each other and whispered loudly to each other.

A bell rang four times and the teacher came bustling in the classroom. She had long raven black hair and wore black high heels. She wore black yoga pants with a fancy suit buttoned up over her baggy black shirt. Her white hoop earrings shone.

“Good morning class,” she said in a loud and clear voice. “I am Mrs. Taylor. I hope you like where you’re sitting, ‘cause that’s where you’ll be for the rest of the year.”

I sighed inwardly.

“Today, since it’s the first day of school, we’re gonna go around the room and say something about ourselves and where you’re from.

Oh great. I’m dead, I thought with despair. Everyone will know that I stutter.

I glanced at Charlie and she looked back. She had an anxious look on her face.

“What do we do?” I mouthed to her. She gave me a thumbs up and an encouraging smile that didn’t help at all. “I got a plan,” she mouthed back.

“Okay,” Mrs. Taylor continued. “We’ll start in the front.” She pointed to the red headed girl. “You first. Stand up and say something about yourself and where you’re from,”

The girl got up proudly, shoulders thrown back. “My name is Olivia, and I just LOVE to read! I was born in Connecticut, but I grew up in Montana, then I moved here to Utah!”

She sat back down with a smirk.

“Lovely,” Mrs. Taylor said, clearly not impressed. She moved down the row. “You next.”

There was a Maya, a Dayton, a Melissa, an Isaac, an Amy, a Katie, a Michael, and a Steven.

The popular girl stood up. When she talked, it was with a heavy accent. “I’m Veronica. I was born and grew up in Alaska. And school is retarded.”

The girl with the headphones sitting beside her stood up before Mrs. Taylor could comment. “I’m Jazaya, and I was born in Afghanistan, and I make music. And I hate people.”

When the teacher finally got to me, I was half hoping that this was a just a nightmare that I would wake up from.

I stood up, hoping that my shaking wasn’t that noticeable. My sister immediately pulled be back down to my seat.

“You next, young man,” Mrs. Taylor said, pointing to me. Before I could stand back up again, Charlie spoke up for me.

“His name’s Reeve, and he’s my twin brother,”

The guy sitting next to Charlie looked rather happy. “Brother?”

Oh, heck naw.

“Thank you, lassie, but I believe Reeve can talk for himself,” the teacher said, glowering at the guy.

I opened my mouth preparing for the worst, but Charlie got there first. “But that’s the thing, he can’t talk. He’s dumb,”

For a second, I thought that my own sister had called me stupid. But then I remembered that dumb also meant that some people didn’t have a voice. I had to admit, this plan of Charlie’s was pretty smart.

“Oh, alright,” the teacher began. She pulled out a small notepad. “I’ll write that down. Please feel welcomed here, Reeve. If you need anything, all you need is ask.”

I nodded guiltily. No one can know that I stutter.

Charlie stood up before another comment could be directed at me. “I’m Charlotte, and Reeve is my twin brother. We both love to read and make alternate universes in our minds. We were born in Florida, but moved here to Utah when we were six. Our mom is dead and we have a good dad.”

She sat back down. “Marvelous,” Mrs. Taylor said. “Next.”

The guy stood up. “I’m Davis,” he spoke in a heavy Australian accent. “I’m from Australia, and me and my mum moved here to Utah three years ago when my little sis died of a scorpion sting. I like Halo and Fortnite.”

I cringed. Who the heck still likes Fortnite?

“Oh, I’m sorry for your loss, Davis.”

Davis shrugged and sat back down. He glanced briefly at Charlie and blushed. I caught his eye and gave him a very dangerous look. He turned white, then smiled at me and nodded.

Oh heck naw. Nope. Not today Satan. No way.

The teacher had already moved on, and the jock stood up. “Yo,” he said in a deep voice. “I’m Lloyd, and I like football, and I’m from Jamaica. I moved here with my adoptive white parents when I was seven.”

Mrs. Taylor smiled. “Wonderful. Have I missed anybody else?”

The room was silent. “Does anybody have any questions for anyone?”

A boy in the front raised his hand. He had brown hair and wore a purple shirt. What was his name again? Austin. That was it.

“I have a question for the kid, Reeve,” Austin said, standing up, turning to face me. I prepared myself for the worst. Whenever somebody asked about my stuttering, they’d ask really hurtful questions, although they didn’t mean to.

“How come he’s dumb?”

Charlie stood up. “Reeve doesn’t like people calling him that except me.” she said dangerously. “And he was born like that.”

“Yeah, but why?” Austin said, standing up as well.

Mrs. Taylor held out her hands. “Alright, I think that’s enough, so let’s just sit down.”

“But I didn’t get my question answered,” he responded angrily. “I wanna know. Is it genetic, or something?”

“Students! That’s enough!” the teacher was almost shouting. “There will be no disrespect to me, or your fellow students! Do I make myself clear?”

Austin sat down. So did Charlie. They both glared at each other.

Oh great. First day and they already hate each other.

The teacher smiled at me, then turned to the whiteboard, reaching for a green dry erase marker.

“Today is the first day, and I feel like we shouldn’t really learn anything. Therefore, there is no homework. Now with introductions out of the way, I feel like we should establish some class rules,”

I tuned the teacher out and my mind went into action.

Charlie and Austin are already on unfriendly terms. But why? He just asked a question, and Charlie snapped at him. I didn’t mind the questions, but Charlie clearly did. Why? Why was she offended by that?

Then I realized.

Austin asked if the stuttering was genetic, and my mom had a slight stutter. Charlie got offended by that because Austin had assumed that everyone in the family was a stuttering freak like me. Mom had passed down her stutter to me, but hers wasn’t nearly as bad as mine. Not even close.

I made a mental note to steer clear of Austin.

“First rule is, ‘Respect everyone, and everything.’” the teacher was saying as I turned my attention to the classroom. “Does everyone agree with that?”

There were nods of ascent, and Mrs. Taylor nodded and turned back to the board. “Does anyone have any suggestions for the classroom rules?”

I wasn't listening.

My eyes drooped. My mind started going fuzzy.

I let my head rest on the desk. I was confident that Charlie would wake me when the bell rang. With that thought, I tuned out the rest of the world.