“Arabelle!”

I barely registered my dad’s shout as I kicked back in the recliner, reading my novel.  I’d long learned to block out my dad’s shouting; I mean it was never directed at me anyway.  Arabelle, my sister, seemed to master the craft as well.  I didn’t really blame her.  She was always being yelled at.  Whether it was for something as drinking orange juice straight from the jug or for something like getting in trouble at school.  Arabelle always seemed to be doing something wrong.

Always.

“Arabelle Winters get your ass over here right now.”

Arabelle, who was swearing colorfully as she died in Mortal Combat, glared at the living room’s entrance.  We both knew that my dad was probably standing in the middle of the kitchen, maybe pacing back and forth.  “I’d rather not, thanks!” she snapped loudly, pressing buttons on the remote controller.  I watched without interest as the game rebooted and she began fighting with the computer again.  “Why don’t you come to me?”

I sighed and shook my head, turning back to my book.  Here we go.

A moment later, my dad appeared, absolutely livid.  My eyes darted between him and the pages of my book for a moment before I sighed and closed the book completely.  There was no point in keeping it open.  Just from the look in his eyes I could tell that there was going to be a lot of yelling.  And no matter how great I was at blocking out noise when I was reading, this would be too loud to do so.

Sad, wasn’t it?  That I was able to tell just from the look he gave?

Arabelle ignored our father’s presence completely as she squinted at the television set, her complete concentration directed toward killing (in vain might I add) an animated man on the screen.  She cursed under her breath as she died.  Again.

“Arabelle,” my dad said sternly.  He glowered as Arabelle continued to ignore him.  “Arabelle, pause the game and look at me.”

Arabelle cursed as she slammed her fingers into the keys.  My twin sister had always had anger issues. 

“Arabelle, I’m not going to ask again!” my dad snapped.

“I’m a little busy, can’t you tell?” Arabelle replied coolly, her fingers tapping swiftly on the controller.

I watched dully as my dad glared at Arabelle before stomping over to the television and slamming his finger into the power button.  Arabelle’s defiant cry sounded through the house, loud and indignant.  She turned to me, her eyes wide and furious.  It was as though she couldn’t believe that she was in trouble again.

“Falice, tell Dad he needs to lighten up and stop freaking out about everything!” Arabelle shrieked as she stood up and stomped over to me, her butt dropping onto the recliner’s arm.

“I would,” I drawled, bringing a hand through my hair, “but I don’t exactly know what you did.”

Arabelle sighed deeply.  “It was nothing. . . .”

“Nothing?” my dad shouted.  “Nothing?  You think beating up a girl at school is nothing?”

Oh.  That.  I remembered that.  Arabelle and her friends had been in the cafeteria when Arabelle’s enemy, Sadie Valle, came up to them and started making fun of pretty much everyone Arabelle knew.  When Sadie even so much as said my name, Arabelle lost it.  She threw herself at Sadie, tackling her to the ground.  I hadn’t been there to see it, but I’d heard of the fight all around school.

Though, I had to say, it was really touching that she only beat Sadie up because she made fun of me.

“I’m sorry,” Arabelle drew out, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “but I thought that I had a right to self-defense.”

“Self-defense?” my dad spat.  “It’s only self-defense if the other person attacks first.”

“She did attack me!” Arabelle screeched.  “It may have been verbally, but it was still an attack.”

“Oh, Arabelle, when will you learn?”  His voice rose significantly as each word tumbled out of his mouth.  “You can’t resort to violence for everything!”

Arabelle stood up abruptly, her anger getting the best of her.  I took that as my cue to leave, pulling myself up from the recliner and dragging myself out of the room.  I could still hear their shouts as I entered the kitchen’s threshold, but it was a heck of a lot quieter than if I’d stayed in there.

I shuffled toward one of the cupboards, scrounging up a container of peanut butter.  I smiled a small smile as I shut the cupboard and moved on to the silverware drawer.  Pulling out a spoon, I thrust out my hip, slamming the drawer shut without using my hands.  As my smile grew at the prospect of devouring delicious peanut butter, I threw off the container’s cover, tossing it carelessly onto the counter.

I stared out the window as I binged shamelessly.  It was a terrible habit of mine.  Whenever something bad was happening or if I was upset I would go straight for the peanut butter.  That’s why, whenever I watched sappy chick flicks, I had a container of peanut butter with me.

“I have had it with you!” my dad shouted.  “I can’t take this anymore!”

“Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me!” Arabelle shrieked.  Anyone besides me wouldn’t be able to notice the hurt in her voice.  But I, being the person she trusted more than anyone else, could.  I instantly felt sorry for her. 

“I don’t understand why you treat me this way!” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken.  “Your sister—”

“Yeah, I get it all right?  Falice is the saint while I’m the daughter from hell.  I know you only wanted one daughter and you were stuck with two.  Just admit it, Dad, you wish I was dead.”

Finished off with one spoonful of peanut butter, I went straight in for another.  This fight had taken it to a whole ‘nother level.  It disturbed me that I was brought into this one.  Damn, my dad must have been pissed.

“No, Arabelle, I don’t wish you were dead.  Stop dramatizing everything.”

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Arabelle spat.  “I’m sorry I don’t reach your fricken high expectations.  I’m sorry I like to talk back.  I’m sorry I—”

“The thing is, Arabelle, you’re not sorry.  You pretend to be sorry and then you go and pull the same shit over and over again!  I’m sick and tired of it.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sick and tired of you busting me out on every single thing that I do even when it’s not important.”

I sighed deeply, leaning against the counter and closing my eyes.  I wished that for just one day that the two of them would get along.  Just one day!  Was that really too hard to ask?  Well, judging from the steadily escalating fight, it was.

If only my mom were here.  When she was still alive, this family was happy.  Arabelle and my dad got along—she behaved.  But now, after she died when we were eight, something shattered between them.  My dad seemed to be holding something against Arabelle, something much deeper than her attitude problem.  I couldn’t say that it was her appearance;  we looked exactly alike.

Maybe it was because my mom had the same fiery attitude that Arabelle had.  Arabelle had the backbone like my mom did.  She refused to back down from the fight, and she would protect those that she cared about no matter what the consequences were.  I respected Arabelle for that.  My dad?  Not so much.

“You disgust me,” Arabelle spat suddenly, ripping me away from my thoughts.

I glanced back toward the living room.  What had been said when I blanked out?  What prompted Arabelle to say something like that?  Sure she always said something along those lines, but she never outright said, “You disgust me.”  What the heck was going on?

Suddenly Arabelle appeared, looking outraged.  She spotted the peanut butter in my hands and held her hand out.  “Be a doll and give me some, would you?”

I smiled, hurrying to grab her a spoon and dishing her out some peanut butter.  “You guys really got into it today, huh?”

Arabelle took the spoon out of my outstretched hand, thanking me softly.  I was the only one she ever showed manners to.  In her eyes, I was the only one that deserved them.  “You’re telling me.”  She glared out the kitchen window.  “I can’t believe he’s doing this to me this summer of all summers!”

I cocked an eyebrow, intrigued by her outburst.  “What are you talking about?”

Arabelle shot a me a look filled with disbelief.  “Are you telling me you didn’t hear what Dad said out there?”

I shrugged, taking another scoop of peanut butter before offering Arabelle the jar.  She took it gratefully, dipping her spoon into the jar and stuffing some peanut butter into her mouth.  She, like me, binged away her sorrows with peanut butter.  “No, I didn’t.  Care to tell me?”

Instead of answering me, Arabelle grumbled under her breath.  She turned to me, her eyes blazing.  “I had plans with Danny this summer!  We were supposed to go to London!”

Danny.  Arabelle’s jerk of a boyfriend that I despised.  Despite my warnings, Arabelle continued to date him anyway, blindsided by his apparent good looks.  She thought he was the sweetest guy on earth even though they’d only been going out for about two weeks now.  And, apparently, Danny got them two tickets to London for the summer.

How sweet of him.

Ew.  I just puked a little in my mouth.

“I know you’re supposed to go to London this summer,” I said as Arabelle began pacing around the kitchen, bringing a hand frantically through her hair.  Oh geez.  That wasn’t a good sign.  “Did Danny back out or something?”

Arabelle snorted, shaking her head.  “Wow, you really are deaf.”

“Noted.”  I shook my head.  “Arabelle, just tell me what’s going on!”

Arabelle sighed woefully, letting her head fall into her hands.  “Dad’s making me go to some damn delinquent camp for the summer to fix my attitude.”

I was shocked.  I really was.  My dad might have talked big, but he was never one to really pull through with a punishment.  Even when Arabelle was grounded she got away with things.  I didn’t understand why Arabelle starting a fight was the thing to tip him over the edge.  She’d done a lot worse.

“What?” I asked, my voice cracking.  “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”  Arabelle’s eyes met mine.  They were full of tears.  She only cried when she was over-the-top angry.  “I can’t believe he’s doing this to me!  He knew that trip was really important.”

I sighed deeply, dropping my spoon into the sink and making my way towards my sister.  I wrapped my arms around her, hugging her from the back.  It was kind of awkward seeing how she was still leaning forward, her face hidden within her hands, but I hugged her anyway.  “I’m sorry, Arabelle.”

I wanted to joke about how stupid the London trip was anyway, but she was really upset so I refrained from doing so.

“It’s not your fault,” Arabelle mumbled.  “It’s his.”

Suddenly her head shot up.  I jumped back, giving a cry of shock.  She’d almost hit me in the nose!  “Geez, Arabelle watch—”

“Falice!” Arabelle shrieked, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me.  “Falice, oh my gosh!”

My eyebrows drew together in confusion before grabbing her hands and throwing them away from me.  “Lady, you’re making me dizzy!”

Arabelle began pacing around the room again, her expression concentrated and determined.  She mumbled incoherent things under her breath, leaving me absolutely clueless.  She was such a confusing person sometimes.

“Arabelle!” I called after a long moment of trying to translate her endless babble.  “What are you going on about?”

She stopped pacing, her eyes meeting mine.  I instantly regretted demanding to know what she was thinking.  Because, just from the look in her eye, I knew she had something devilish planned.  “You and I look a lot alike,” she said simply.

“No, really?” I placed my hands on my hips.  “Being identical twins does have that effect.”

“No one would ever know the difference. . . .”

My eyebrows drew together again.  “What?”

“But would this work?”

“Would what work?”

“No, it’s absolutely crazy. . . .”

I threw my hands up in the air.  “You’re absolutely crazy!”

Arabelle sighed deeply, rubbing her face with her hands.  When her hands left her face, she smiled mischievously at me.  “I think I know a way for me to be able to go to London with Danny this summer!” she squealed softly.

Why was she practically whispering?  It was concerning.  I leaned forward on the kitchen table, eyeing her warily.  “Oh really?  How?”

Arabelle clapped her hands together before rushing forward, shoving herself into me.  She had absolutely no respect for personal space.  At all.  “You’re going to pretend to be me and go to the summer camp while I go to London and have the time of my life!”

I burst out laughing, clutching the table for support.  “Oh, Arabelle, you’re hilarious!”

Arabelle backed away from me, her hands going straight to her hips.  “I know I am, but I’m not kidding this time.”

I bit my lip, my laughing ceasing.  Oh damn, she was serious.  “I love you and all, but I don’t want to be you, all right?”  I shook my head.  “You’re certifiably insane.”

Arabelle pouted.  “Come on, Falice!  You used to love going to camp.”

“Yeah, a normal camp,” I replied.  I took the peanut butter from Arabelle’s hands, plucking the cap from the counter and twisting it back on.  “I don’t want to go to a camp where everyone hates the world.”

“Hey!” Arabelle shrieked, feigning hurt.  “I take offense to that.”

I sighed deeply.  “The answer is no, Arabelle.  I’m sorry that you’re stuck going to a camp because Dad’s moody, but I’m not going for you.”

Arabelle sighed woefully, moving away from the table, toward the kitchen’s entrance.  I could see the disappointment in her eyes, and I instantly knew what she was doing: She was trying to guilt me into agreeing with her plan. 

Well, it wasn’t going to work.

“All right,” she said, sighing again.  “I just thought that I’d be able to finally spend some alone time with Danny, and go on an once-in-a-lifetime trip.  But, I guess you’re right.  I can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.  I’m sorry for even thinking of it.”

With that, she left the room, disappearing upstairs.

I groaned, leaning back against the counter.  I wouldn’t let Arabelle’s sadness get to me.  No.  She had to suck it up and go to the camp.  I mean, it couldn’t be that bad, right?  Maybe she would meet a nice delinquent boy there and they could marry and have nice delinquent babies.  I wouldn’t have to deal with Danny and his annoying tendencies anymore.  That would be nice.

On the other hand, the nice delinquent boy could end up being . . . not so nice.

“Dammit!” I hissed, rubbing my face with my hands before bringing them through my hair.  I didn’t want to feel guilty about saying no to Arabelle, I really didn’t.

But I did.

I scowled.  No.  I wouldn’t give in.  I wasn’t going to Camp Delinquency—or whatever it was called.  I was going to stay home and enjoy my summer because I didn’t make it my job to piss my dad off.  I was going to hang out with Beth and Caroline, and we were going to beach hop and go see a few movies at the movie theaters.

I wasn’t going to pretend to be my sister.

I wasn’t.

Then how come it felt like I’d lost this battle?