I study Chelsea. Her hands are clutching her knees to her chest, and her lips are trembling.
“That’s not true. You have no idea what my personal life is like.”
“Nothing is personal between twins.” She turns to me. “And you lied about the heirloom. You specifically told me it was stolen, and Chelsea—”
“I never said Chelsea stole it!” I shout over her.
“Yes, you did!” She gets up in my face, and Chelsea scoots backward on the bed. “You can’t change what already happened, Kennedy. You made me do it, and then you punished me for it because you always get away with everything since you know everyone is going to believe you over me.”
“Liar. You’re a liar,” I say calmly. But I feel a rage swirling inside me that terrifies me. She is lying, and nobody should be allowed to get away with a lie like that. A friendship-breakinglie, a love-destroying lie. The kind of lie that takes people away from you forever. “Tell Chelsea you’re lying right now.”
She shakes her head, and the room seems to grow even colder. “No. I’m not letting you win, Kennedy. I’m not the pathetic one.”
I place my hands on her shoulders and turn her toward Chelsea, but Emily whips around and shoves me backward into the dresser. It bangs hard against the wall and the mirror topples down, smacking me in the back of the head and shattering. Chelsea screams, and I crouch down under an explosion of pain. I’m afraid to move, afraid that there are shards of glass in my skull and neck, but I don’t feel any blood or sharp slices, only the dull ache that you feel when you slam a body part into something hard. Chelsea lifts the mirror off me, the fairy carvings grinning impishly from the intricately carved heavy wooden frame, and helps me onto the bed as my parents rush into the room. The cold lifts, and just like that, our invisible friends have left us. Or maybe stopped caring. It’s hard to tell sometimes.
“What happened?” my mother shrieks, combing her hands through my hair. She’s a pediatrician and remains calm in every medical situationexceptthe ones involving me.
“I fell into the dresser, and the mirror came down on my head,” I say.
Chelsea looks at me, surprised, then nods. “It was an accident.”
“You should be more careful,” Emily says before she slips out the door. Chelsea stares after her, mouth agape.
I don’t know why I lied about it. It just came out. I don’twant Emily to get in trouble, but I think the bigger thing is, I don’t want World War II. World War I was hard enough. We’ve already had shots fired, and I want it to stop. If this is what it takes, a little lie, even a lie about a mirror smashed against my head? I guess I didn’t even have to think about it. Anything to avoid another battle.