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She looks down, dark lashes fanning her cheeks. “You can be free. Live life as… as you.”
“Izzy,” I warn.
“I know, I know. I’m not…presuming anything. I learned my lesson last time I tried to help.”
I grit my teeth at the reminder of that awful day she decided to use a stupid kid’s game as a sort of experiment for me.
“I’m just saying… You’re too good for this town. Don’t let it swallow you up. Get out there, and find yourself. Away from these small-minded people.” Her gaze finds mine, fierce and determined. “We’ll go together.”
I sigh. “Iz…”
“I know I smother you,” she says into a nod. “And make you feel worse sometimes, because I get all up in my head with ideas on how to make you feel better when I could just give you space, and?—”
“Izzy,” I cut into her rambling gently.
She pouts. “But it’s only because I love you.”
I roll my eyes. “I know that.”
“And I…I hate that I can’t fix this for you. If I could, I’d trade places in a heartbeat, I’d?—”
“Don’t say that,” I whisper. Try as I might though, I can’t stop the images her words conjure up—who we’d be if our lives were reversed, and I was the musical prodigy, I was the brave and fierce and outspoken one, I was the one with Mason as my boyfriend…
Would I be a girl in this reality…
Or would I still be a boy?
I frown at the thought.
“I mean it though.”
“I know you do, but if it means having to choose who has anxiety, who gets bullied, I still choose me. I’m glad it’s me,” I tell her.
And it’s true. As much as I hate my life sometimes—as much as it hurts to be me…
If given a choice between who has to suffer—me or her—I’ll always choose me.
It sucks, but I’m used to it. I can take it.
I might resent my sister at times for how easy she has it. And yeah, I wish I could be even half as brave and fearless and steadfast as her. To be the kind of person who listens to their gut and follows their heart and doesn’t think so damn much.
Sure. Absolutely. Of course. Who wouldn’t want that?
But never, in a million years, would I ever wish my pain and loneliness upon her. Never would I wish to trade places, and snuff out that fire that makes Izzy Izzy.
The very thought of her being anything less than who she is makes my stomach churn.
She sighs, and sidles up next to me, putting us shoulder to shoulder. It’s a lot darker now, with the stars and planets on my ceiling our only sources of light.
“Well, we can agree to disagree on that,” she says, sinking down to rest her head on my shoulder.
I huff a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “Whatever.”
She goes to say something else, but whatever it is, is interrupted by another vibration—this time, it’s coming from her jean pocket. She wiggles around, and digs out her pink RAZR. When I see an image of Mason’s face on the small screen, something sinks inside me.
Maybe she senses it? Because she just sighs, and lets it ring, setting it face-up on her stomach. “I’ll call him later.” She cuts me a sideways look. “Surprised the wardens haven’t confiscated it yet.”
“Grounded?”
