Chapter 1
Miranda Hope
You know, I think I like the street dog that lives across the street in a cardboard box better than my sisters. I really would like anyone better than them. Yesterday I woke up with a dirty sock inside my mouth because of Sunny (My youngest sister); one could only imagine how long it would take to scrub that taste out of my mouth. Sisters!
Today I woke up on the bottom bunk like usual. One of my pigtails was half undone, while the other one wasn’t in existence anymore since the rubber band came off in my sleep. I poke my head up to the top bunk to see that my twin sister Eleanor was still asleep. A thick strand of drool slowly slipped down her chin as she lay down, motionless. A big snort startles me, sending me a tingle down my back. I try nogging her awake, but the log doesn’t move. I roll my eyes and walk to the bathroom.
Once I get to the bathroom, I carefully comb my curly brown hair into a long braid and twist it into a bun once it’s done. I love to look presentable. Once I finish my braid/bun, I start on my dress. At last, I choose my denim purple jorts with a baggy black hoodie with a cat holding a taro boba, it looked so cute! I just have to admit, the sweater was Amara’s (My oldest sister), but how would she know? I haven’t seen her wear it once! After wearing some earrings, I’m ready to go.
I walk with my chin up, I’m always the first to get up. My face is bright, since I had slept well, and I walk with perfect posture. You must imagine how startled I am to see my mom and dad sitting on the table with black eyebags and droopy mouths. They look upset.
“Miranda, come here.” She calls me by my first name, usually a bad sign. Mom signals me to come here with her hands. I slowly walk up to her. Her eyes are stiff and look like tiny slits.
“So,” she starts, “Tell me what you see.” She slides a piece of paper towards me. I read it out loud.
“Math, A+; Science, A+; LA, A+; Gym, A+; Orchestra, A+;” I continue on with my other subjects, but nothing is less than an A+. I look at her ,confused. “Nothing less than an A+, what gives?” My dad puts a hand on my mom’s shoulder, and scrunches up his nose.
“What gives is at the bottom,” he growls. I skim to the bottom of the page, my eyes must shoot out like ping-pong balls. It said in neat handwriting:
Dear Miss and Mr. Hope,
You must be familiar with the saying, ‘Not all that shimmers is gold’. Countless students have reported that Miranda has been doing harsh things to students, like shoving them into lockers, throwing lunches, calling names, etc. Though she seems to have straight A’s, it seems it might have gotten to her head, thus, we would hope for you to have a nice talk with her. If this further continues, we might have to give her a few weeks of suspension, or further probation of activities.
Sincerely,
Barthra Levington, Vice Principal
“I-I have no idea of what this is about!” I cry. I admit this was a lie, but can you blame me?
I slam my fist against the white marbled table. It hurts, but I don’t have the time to worry about that. “This is an outrage!” I cry. Mom looks at me with sharp eyes. Her shoulders are up and her eyebrows are so scrunched up together it looks like an unibrow.
“I’ve had enough of this, Mira! Don’t talk back to me!” Mom yells, drops of spit flying out of her mouth, while her mouth is blurting words at me. Dad tightens his grip on Mom’s shoulder, sending her a message to calm down.
He takes in a deep sigh. “Mira, this is about the third time we have seen a note from your principal this school year, we know what’s going on.” I look at Mom and Dad firmly. I am about to protest, but Mom holds up her finger at me.
“You have one more chance Miranda, one last chance!” She snaps her fingers at me and nods her head. “One more chance or we might rethink sending you to Riverside Brook High School!”
I jolt my head up. “But I got accepted there! It’s my dream!” I whine.
Dad shakes his head. “We’re not spending so much just for you to get expelled!” I bite my lips and kick the table. I look at Mom and Dad. I shake my head and sigh loudly. I don’t want them to think I care. Maybe in that case, they won’t even bother yelling at me about it, like with Eleanor’s report card.
“Sure, I’m going to go get breakfast,” I shrug. I get up and walk to the pantry, but I really do care. What if my parents don’t send me to Riverside, or worse: I go to Riverside and get expelled?
Chapter 2
Eleanor Hope
Oof, sad day for little Mira. Sure, we might be identical twins, and I might be just 10 minutes older than her, but it still counts!
This morning, I lazily stumble into the dining room. Mira would yell at me if she saw me walking so slouched, but I move on. I’m still in my ‘Precious Kitty’ pajamas and bunny slippers when I see Mira fully dressed, standing next to the dining table with Mom and Dad on the other side. Classic Mira. I stand and watch Mom yell at her. Mom loves to yell. If there was a job for yelling at people, mMm would be the richest woman alive. Mira looks as if she was about to cry, but she never does. But wow, Mom calls her by her first name! That’s a real bad sign. Once Mom and Dad stop lecturing at Mira, Dad walks to the kitchen, while Mom walks to her room to get ready for work.
“Mira, I’m not mad at you, but I’m just upset you’re doing this. Please, try changing your ways. If you tell me you told me the truth, let’s forget this happened and start a new chapter, okay?”
Mira hesitates, but admits, “Fine, I did do all that stuff, but Mom will still be mad…”
“She’ll cool down,” says Dad joyfully. There’s an odd silence, so I break the barrier.
“Hey Mi-da!” I call. Mira looks at me and groans. She hates that nickname, but it suits her well. “What happened?”
“What happened was Mom,” Mira growls. She walks to the counter in the kitchen and snags the last chocolate fudge Pop-Tart. She must be the only person in the world who likes those things.
Dad stares at her. “Don’t say things like that about your mom, she is only doing this for the best of you,” he says to Mira. “Plus, wouldn’t you like one of my famous Banana-chip Pancakes instead of a sugar loaded Pop-Tart?” he asks while waving the spoon he’s using to make the pancake batter fly at Miras’ face. Mira gives him a not so pleasant growl and angrily rips open the Pop-Tart packaging, so hard that it falls on the floor.
Mira rolls her eyes. “Fine, I’ll have one pancake, but no bananas.”
“Deal, sugarcube.” He ruffles up Mira’s hair, but Mira swats it away,
“You’ll ruin my hair!” This time Dad rolls his eyes. I can’t blame him, Mira can be a handful. I walk over to dad, I want to get my pancake before my other siblings do.
“Dad, may I have a pancake?” Dad winks at me and tosses me a pancake with way too much chocolate on it, but he knows that’s how I like it. I walk over to the table and fill my mouth with chocolate and banana goodness. At this moment Amara, walks into the room fully dressed, just like Mira.
“Where is my Boba Cat hoodie? Who stole it, Miranda or Eleanor?” She angrily stomps into the room. Amara is 16, 2 years older than me and Mira, but not 2 times smarter. “Ellie, was it you? Yes or no? Who?” I look at her wide eyed and sigh loudly. She might know algebra, but she really has no common sense.
“I wonder, who in the room is wearing that hoodie?” I nod my head towards Mira, who is holding a plate with a chocolate chip pancake, no bananas. Amara gives Mira a death stare.
“Give it back, you crazy little child!” yells Amara. I look at both of them wide eyed, I know I can have a drama show today right in front of me, right now.
“Come on, you barely use it!” whines Mira. Amara’s face turns a bright red.
“Doesn’t mean you should use my stuff without my permission!” Cries Amara. I watch my sisters bicker with each other until Dad steps in.
“Hey, no fighting at the breakfast table!” Dad flaps out his hands to the side. “Mira, go to your room and change the hoodie. Amara, no yelling.” My dad turns around and starts making more pancakes. Amara scoffs and takes the ‘honey-oats’ carton from the pantry. Dad gives her an eye and tells her the same things he told Mira about the Pop-Tarts. But Amara gets away with it because she isn’t so clumsy. Meanwhile, Mira walks back into the dining room with the same old zigzaggy bun, but she is wearing sequined jeans and a top with roses printed on it and puffy pink sleeves.
Once Mira, Amara, and I finish our breakfast, we wave Mom goodbye before she walks outside for work. Mom wears a clean white shirt and clean white pants. She worked as a nurse in the hospital a few towns away. It wasn’t a pediatrician’s office, but mostly kids went there. The only one who doesn’t wave to her is Mira, who is picking at her pancake.
Mom looks at her and frowns. Her eyes are glossy. Mira looks at her but then looks down again and starts picking her banana free pancakes.
“Bye Mira,” Mom calls to Mira, hoping that she’ll call back, but she doesn’t take her eyes off her plate. You know Mom and Mira had a fight this morning, but this is how it is every morning at our house. Mom and Mira clearly don’t have the best mother and daughter relationship.
Chapter 3
Miranda Hope
I can’t, and I will not. I can easily even feel that Mom is still mad at me. After this morning, she thinks I will talk to her? I think you are smart enough to know the answer: no. Every day has been like this for months. Mom yells at me in the morning, and she begs me to forgive her. I really don’t understand the logic.
I feel a kick from under the table, a cold foot with sharp toenails. It has to be Amara. I give her a side eye, still picking at my food. She nods her head towards Mom.
“Just say goodbye,” begs Amara in a soft voice. “I bet she’ll stand here forever if you don’t say bye!” I roll my eyes and give her a sloppy wave to show goodbye, but I don’t look at her. I look below the table, no need for eye contact.
I hear a sigh and the words “It’s a start” from Mom’s mouth. From the side of my eye I can see Mom’s lip quiver, but I don’t say a thing. Mom shakes her head side to side and puts on a big fake smile.
“All right, don’t have too much fun without me!” Booms mom. Suddenly, Mom’s phone begins to ring a hum to the song ‘Lean on me.’ That’s Moms ringtone. Mom pulls out her phone, its case a light emerald green, like her eyes. She puts the phone up to her ear.
“Hello, this is Barbra Hope, how may I help you today?” Mom suddenly drops her mouth like a trapdoor. She puts a hand over her mouth to hide it, a few beady tears sliding down her face. She cuts the call, crying out in a soft voice.
“Miranda, Riverside High School has declined you because of the note from your principal.”