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They have a dumb sense of humor in Florida.
“You root for the Braves?” one of the younger boys asked, noticing Brandi’s red shirt.
“Duh! They’re the best,” Brandi said.
The three boys laughed again. “The Braves stink. Everyone here roots for the Rays. They went to the World Series.”
“Yeah, but they lost to the Phillies!” I pointed out.
One of the boys whistled. “Did you hear that, Jack?”
“Sure did,” the boy with the sandy-blond hair said while glaring at me. “Let me explain it to you, Alyssa. The Rays won the American League Pennant. The Braves didn’t even make it to the playoffs.”
“At least the Braves have won before!” Brandi shot back at him. “They won it all in 1995. The Devil Rays have never won. Which means the Braves are better.”
I nodded along. Everyone knew the Braves were the best.
Jack barked a laugh. “Shows how much you know. They’re not the Devil Rays anymore—they’re just the Rays. And who cares what the Braves did all the way back in 1995? That was probably before you were born. How old are you, any way?”
“We’re both eleven,” I said, sticking out my chin.
Jack looked at each of us. “How can you be the same age if you’re sisters?”
“We’re twins,” I explained. “We’re the exact same age, although I’m ten minutes older.”
One of the younger boys frowned. “You’re not twins. You don’t even look alike.”
“You have different hair,” Jack added. “Nice try.”
“We’re fraternal twins,” I explained. “That’s different than identical twins.”
“That’s only if one is a boy and one is a girl,” the younger kid insisted. “We have fraternal twins in my class.”
“You can have two girls, too!” Brandi argued.
“Nuh uh,” the younger boy replied.
“Yes you can!” I insisted. “We’re proof.”
“You’re a liar. Both of you.”
I took a step forward and shoved the boy in the chest. He stumbled a few steps, but didn’t fall.
“Don’t touch my brother,” Jack said, shoving me back. I fell on my butt in the grass.
“Hey! You can’t push a girl!” Brandi said, helping me up.
For a moment, Jack looked reluctant about what he had done. Then his blue eyes hardened and said, “You started it. Besides, if you’re fraternal twins, one of you is a boy. Too bad I can’t tell which—because you both look like boys!”
They laughed, so Brandi and I got on our bikes and rode away. I had tears in my eyes, but she was still smiling.
“Forget about those jerks. There are probably a million other kids around here. We’ll make plenty of friends.”
“Yeah,” I said, wiping my tears. “You’re right.”
When we got home, the moving truck was gone and Mom was sitting in a chair on the lawn smoking a cigarette. “What’s the plan, Stan?” she asked.
“Huh?” Brandi asked.
