“Oh, man. That was rough.” I was complaining about Gym class to Dahlia again. She was used to it. I did this at least once a day. 

We were walking to the locker rooms, across the large main room of the gymnasium. It was on the opposite side of the boy’s locker rooms, and smelled much better. Dahlia was patiently listening to me whine, but we had to split to change back into our school clothes and out of our unflattering, smelly gym clothes. 

I pulled off my white gym shirt and blue gym shorts, and began putting on my jeans. As I managed to pull them up to my waist, I overheard two of the ‘popular girls’ whispering behind me. 

“Did you really go on a date with Emilio Martinez?” one of them loudly asked the other. It sounded like Phoebe, a blonde girl known for wearing her weight in makeup. 

“Yeah, I did. We might make it official on our next date,” the second one bragged even louder. It was probably Phoebe’s best friend, Victoria or Vicky. She had long black hair and was always wearing clothes that shouldn’t pass the dress code regulations. 

Oh. I finally registered what they were saying. They were bragging. Trying to spread fake rumors around to boost their reputation in school. 

I wasn’t surprised Emilio Martinez was dating someone like Vicky. He was on the volleyball team and was tall enough to scare me. He had skin slightly darker than my own and had very dark eyes that could very nearly pass for black. He was also friends with all the rowdy athlete kids. The ones that are always running around, hitting on girls, and trying to out stupid each other. 

No thanks, not for me! I sometimes still wonder how he was even popular. Sure, he’s athletic. So what? 

I rolled my eyes and ignored the rest of what they were saying. It was nowhere near relevant to my life, so I didn’t pay any attention to it. If they started talking about something that actually concerned me, I might listen. 

Once I finally pulled on my orange hoodie, I quickly grabbed my backpack and shoved all of my things in it. Swinging it onto my shoulder, I walked from the locker room through the door that led outside to the field. Dahlia was outside waiting for me, and together we headed to building C. 

We parted at the stairs, her going to room 305 for English and me going upstairs to room 313 for history. The next two classes we had weren’t with each other. And oddly, I spent most of history, and art for that matter, thinking about what Phoebe and Vicky had said. 

Only when I joined Braydon at the front gate did I finally manage to shake those thoughts from my head. This time, as we walked, I engaged in conversation with my little brother. Mindless chatter, mostly. 

We reached our apartment building in what felt like less time than usual. We calmly took the stairs all the way to the fourth floor. On our floor, Mr. Park was coming out of our apartment. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Park!” I said as I waved. Beside me, Braydon waved as well. 

Mr. Park smiled warmly and nodded. “Good afternoon to you, too, Iris and Braydon!” 

He walked to his apartment and stopped outside as he asked us “How was school today?” 

I let Braydon take this. “It was good, Mr. Park! We got to start basketball in Gym class today, and it was really fun.” 

“Oh, that’s good! Well, kids, have a good rest of your day! I’ve got to go now. Bye!” he told us, waving. We waved back as he turned into his apartment. 

I looked after him curiously. “Was it just me, or did Mr. Park seem a bit off?” I asked Braydon. 

I turned to look at my little brother, and he was staring at the door to 4D as well. He nodded slowly. “Yeah.” 

“No matter, that is none of our business. We should get inside to get to work on our homework. Come on,” I told Braydon, and together we walked into 4C. 

The first thing I noticed was that the vase that used to be full of flowers was missing. The small drawer had nothing on the top except for a small circular water stain in the shape of the bottom of the missing vase. 

Oh. So that was what broke this morning. That was probably why Mr. Park was here; to clean up our messes. Again. We really should get him a thank you gift or something. 

Braydon was looking at the same place, so he probably came to the same conclusion as I did. As confirmation, he said, “I wonder who broke it, Kyler or Kaytelin.” 

I just shrugged, and we started our afternoon routine. Unpacking our bags then hanging them on their hooks, and getting started on homework. Usually, if the twins weren’t here, we would work side by side at the kitchen table. This way, I could help him if he needed help and we sometimes could talk as we worked. 

I washed some grapes as a working snack and set the plate on the table in front of us. I got to work on my leftover math, then pulled out my science packet, English worksheet, and history study guide. These were all due the next day, so I had to work fast. Especially if the twins would arrive in under an hour. 

I had gotten probably eighty percent of my work done, and I only had to finish my English homework. That was when the hurricane came into hearing range. 

“I DON’T CARE, KAYTELIN!” was the first shout we heard. It sounded like the twins were home. And by the sound of it, still upset. 

“Well, you SHOULD care! Because of you, I got detention! Now I can’t go to Bella’s birthday party!” Kaytelin yelled at our brother. I could almost hear Kyler roll his eyes. 

The bickering drew closer until it was at our threshold. Literally. We heard keys jingle as someone, Kyler probably, tried to open the door. Impressive. They managed to open the door and still somehow keep up the argument. 

Remain motionless and don’t make a sound. If you do this, the two angry and aggressive animals might not notice you and move on. Braydon and I stayed still, hoping the twins would leave to their own rooms. 

Our luck held. The twins yelled at each other a few more times before turning in opposite directions and stomping into their rooms. Maybe we would be able to continue to do our homework at the kitchen table. 

“KYLER!” 

Or not. 

“KYYLEER!” It was Kaytelin, shouting for our older brother. Her high pitched voice was screeching out his name, lengthening out the ends of each syllable. 

“Oh, what now,” Kyler groaned from the other room as he opened his door and dragged his feet, entering the kitchen. 

“KYYYLEEER!” Kaytelin continued to lengthen each syllable, her voice growing nearer as she exited her room and stomped down the hall towards the kitchen. 

“KYLER!” Kaytelin had entered the kitchen, shouting out his name in a singular and short burst of sound. Her voice pitch had grown dangerously close to shattering the glass around the apartment and disturbing the neighborhood dogs. 

Kyler tore a hand through his hair as he looked down at Kaytelin. Because she had taken off her heels, she was a significant amount shorter than he was. However, this did nothing to diminish her anger and the possible danger that accompanied it. It even seemed to empower her rage. 

“What, Kaytelin? WHAT?” The way Kyler said it, it almost sounded like a statement instead of a question. 

“You know what!” Kaytelin said through gritted teeth. Was she shaking? Yeah. She was visibly shaking. 

“No, Kaytelin. I don’t know what, so why don’t you quit stalling and tell me what it is I’ve done this time so that I can get back to my work?” Kyler looked tired and frustrated, perhaps a bit burnt out from all of this fighting. I knew I was absolutely sick of it, so he must be, too. 

“You took my hair curler from my vanity! Do you know how important it is? Give it back!”