Fall From Grace

“Grace! Let’s go!” My bother—yes, you heard that right, my bother—Clayton, was my twin. Well, technically, we were triplets, but we couldn’t look more different if we tried. He, Michael, and I—three of a kind in birth order only—are completely opposite in every possible way. I get a kick out of riling him up; any day I can make that vein in his forehead pulse in rhythm with his boiling anger is a win in my book. It’s the same vein our dad has, though it’s rare to see that side of him.

Even though I’m fully dressed and ready to head out, there’s something oddly satisfying about starting the day by annoying Clayton. As his footsteps draw closer, I dive back into bed, yanking the covers up to my chin just in time for my bedroom door to slam against the wall. The moment he saw me still lying there, rage washed over him instantly. It was such a strange time to question his temper, especially since none of us shared his anger issues. He’s never hurt me, but I have to admit, his payback for my antics has always been nothing short of brilliantly devious.

“Are you kidding me, Grace?”

“Go away, brother, I still have time.”

“No, Grace, thirty minutes ago you had time. Now you’re making us all late.”

“What time is it?”

Clayton leans in, his minty breath washing over my face. “It’s time to get your ass up,” he says, giving the mattress a sharp kick that shifts it a few inches before he turns to leave. Totally uncalled for, but that’s just how we play our little game. We love to push each other’s buttons, and, truth be told, I get a kick out of it. Still, there’s no mistaking the frustration in his steps as they pound down the staircase. I can practically see steam shooting out of his ears like some cartoon character.

Silently, I chalk one up in my favor, though I’m fairly certain he’ll come out ahead in the end. As I slide into my sandals, I catch the sound of another set of footsteps, lighter this time. My mother appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed over her chest—a look she saves just for her kids when we’ve messed up, though the amusement in her eyes is impossible to hide. A faint smile played at her lips as she stepped forward, brushing my hair back over my shoulders.

“Why must you antagonize him so much?” she asked. Her blue eyes—identical to mine—and her dirty blonde hair, again just like mine, made it easy to see I was practically a carbon copy of Madison Garrett. Still, I never felt like I inherited her stunning beauty. At forty, she still carried a youthful glow.

“Because sometimes, Mom, Clayton needs to be knocked down a peg or two. He’s gotten way too comfortable acting like a jerk, and I need to remind him he’s just one of us.”

“Honey, I can’t really fault you—you’re just like Aunt Sylvia. If she were here today, she’d probably be right there with you in your prank war against everyone.”

“Well then, I would’ve welcomed her.”

She kissed my forehead and waved me toward the stairs. “Go before you give your eighteen-year-old brother a heart attack.”

I bounded down the steps two at a time, catching sight of the vein in Clayton’s forehead pulsing with irritation. Michael lingered behind Dad, eyes glued to his phone, acting oblivious to the tension between us. Spencer—nine years old, the family’s little ‘oops’—stood with arms spread wide, lost in his latest fixation of pretending to be an airplane. And then there was Dad, my hero, the person I loved most in the world, waiting with the kind of patience that made it seem like he’d been standing there for an eternity, just hoping his only daughter would finally get her act together.

Michael, the twin I’ve always felt closest to, flashed me a grin as I made my way through the maze of men in my life. Clayton, on the other hand, shot me a nasty sneer as I slipped past him toward the door. “Come on, guys, we’re going to be late,” I called over my shoulder, only to hear him growl in frustration behind me. “You really need to chill, bother. Life isn’t that serious.” Sometimes Clayton acted like he was above us, though he adored our brother Spencer. Michael and I could be loud and wild, while Clayton was quiet—reserved, really—until something set him off. Even though we’re triplets, we don’t look much alike. I take after Mom, average height at five-foot-six, but I’ve inherited Dad’s facial expressions. Clayton is Dad’s clone in every way, while Michael is an even blend of both parents. When Dad dropped us off at our usual spots, Clayton wasted no time getting out of the car the moment it stopped. “Are we really that awful?” I muttered, taking my time to grab my bag and say goodbye to Dad.

“He isn’t like you and Michael, Grace. Cut him some slack sometimes. Have a good day.”

“You too, Dad.”

Michael walked beside me, never embarrassed to be seen with his twin sister, which probably explained why we got along so well. We pulled epic pranks on each other and didn’t mind when the tables were turned. Up ahead, I spotted our cousin Lukas meeting up with Clayton. They leaned in, whispering, before shooting me a heated look. I knew Clayton’s devious streak—he’d get me back sooner or later. He didn’t join in as often as Michael and I, but when he did, it was a work of art. You never knew when the little menace would strike.

Inside, Michael and I went our separate ways, but I quickly found Mia and Sydney. Mia, Lukas’s twin, was both my cousin and my best friend. Sydney, on the other hand, was the little sister of none other than Tyler Garrison—my childhood tormentor. Tyler was only a year and a half older than us and already in college, so I hadn’t seen him in over a year. Still, being best friends with Sydney since kindergarten made sleepovers at her house tricky. I never understood how the two were related; Sydney was sweet and caring, while Tyler was an inconsiderate jerk who loved to make my life miserable. At my twelfth birthday party, he spit in my Coke in front of everyone. They all watched as I drank it, and then he teased me that we’d “kissed” because his saliva was in my mouth. I spent the entire night throwing up just thinking about it.

Sydney had spent years trying to bridge the gap between Tyler and me, but I never had the heart to accept his apology. Still, her ridiculous donkey laugh at that moment had everyone nearby cracking up. “Breathe, girls,” she managed between laughs. They caught their breath, clutching their sides.

“Clayton just walked past, and that vein in his forehead was about to burst. What did you do to him?”

“Oh, you know it doesn’t take much to get him worked up,” I replied, spinning the lock on my locker and swapping out my books before ushering my best friends down the hall. “Come on, it’s the last week of school, and I’m not risking detention.” We hurried along, splitting off into three different directions toward our classes. Maybe I split a little too fast, because I barreled into Art class with Mrs. Henshaw, nearly eating concrete if it weren’t for the poor girl whose desk I grabbed to steady myself after catching my foot on the doorframe. My hand smacked against the hardwood of her desk with a loud slap, almost sending us both tumbling if she hadn’t braced herself. I’m pretty sure I traumatized her. All I could manage was an apologetic smile, but thankfully, she laughed it off, regaining her composure after my disastrous entrance.

Clayton and I had this class together, and to make matters worse, we shared a table—just the two of us—making it nearly impossible to ignore each other, not that we usually managed anyway. I could see the smug little smile lurking behind the hand he held over his mouth.

“Enjoyed that, did ya?” I asked. All I got in return was a slight nod. Mrs. Henshaw launched into her lesson, and I’ll admit, I completely zone out on subjects that don’t interest me. I’d thought art would be a breeze, but it turned out to be just another hour to kill. Bored, with nothing to do but pretend to pay attention, I scribbled a quick note on a scrap of paper and slid it over to Clayton: ‘I’m sorry.’

I watched as his eyes flicked down to the note, and then, with exaggerated flair, he dropped his hand from his face and snatched my pen before scribbling a single word.

‘Karma’

Cue the dramatic music, because my asshole just puckered in fear. “Righteous,” I shot back, though it came out anything but smooth or convincing.

For the rest of the class, I sat as far from him as the table allowed, my foot tapping restlessly against the floor, all that nervous energy burning a hole in me.

When it was time to leave, I jumped from the seat and tried to leave before him, but everyone was taking their sweet ass time, so he’s locked in behind me. I feel like a junkie straight off a hit as I continue to look over my shoulder to watch him. This is what he’s so good at: making me believe his revenge is right there. Not to mention his pranks were so legendary that it would literally take weeks of planning and supplying. Hell, he’s probably still planning from the last time.

Before he can fully walk away from me, I feel pressure on my shoulder. “Be prepared, Grace.”

I turn in good faith because I can’t let him see how bothered I am and put my hand between us. “May the best prevail,” I say, but he slaps his hand against mine, but not fully embracing my handshake.

His grey/blue eyes sparkle, and I can only imagine what is going through that intelligent mind of his. Clayton’s hair was longer on top than the rest of his head, which is basically about an inch of hair, but the longer pieces always fell into his eyes, giving him a more villainous look. Although he took dad’s grey/blue eyes, blonde hair, and lean build, he still had a look all his own, and it was quite hippy in fact. He was definitely one of a kind.

Turning my back away from him, I searched for Sydney, who usually meets me at the student center so we can walk to Biology class together. There she was, like a loyal dog. “He’s after me, Sydney. I need eyes on my back, and don’t miss Lukas, too. I’m sure that little monster will be with him.” Sydney’s only answer is to laugh as she watches the way I look around like a junkie straight off a hit.

“Hey, just a heads up, Tyler will be home tomorrow and will be staying for the summer. My parents made him come home to stay with me while they took another vacation.”

“You would think with all the vacations they take during the year, they’d be the most relaxed people. But no…they’re not.”

She laughs, of course, but I can see how my words hit her the wrong way. “Hey, sorry.”

“No, you’re right, though.”

“So, Tyler, huh?”

“Yeah, how do you feel about it?”

We start making our way to class as I take her arm into mine. “I don’t think my opinion matters; that’s your brother, Sydney.” But my words were swallowed in the unbecoming noise made in the back of my throat at the sheer mention of his name.

“Hey…regardless of what you think of him, he’s my brother, and I miss him.”

“I know, and I’m sorry for that noise, but it came out of nowhere.”

“Thanks for understanding, and I promise there will be a truce between you.”

“I don’t care about a truce; I just want him to leave me alone this summer.”

“Deal.”

“I love you, Syd, regardless of who your brother is. Remember, we cannot choose our family.” I remember this every time Clayton pisses me off.

Syd stops and turns to me, “Do you think that this summer we can let everything go and just have a good few months before we’re all separated with college and work? You and I will be in college with him next semester. We really need to get past this, Grace…for me, please?”

I couldn’t look into her pleading puppy dog eyes because I’d give her anything, “I can promise you that I will try.” I sigh with a one-word on my breath, “Nutthole.”

Sydney stopped walking once more to reprimand me with that piercing Garrett look in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, that was the last one.”

Mrs. Keener’s class is already in full swing when we walk in, just as the bell rings its last warning. She looked up but didn’t say anything as we took the last two seats in the back. She, along with other teachers, had not been doing much of anything, so this hour sailed by with all of us talking amongst ourselves or on our phones.

The morning slipped by.

Another class, another hour. But it’s at the fourth hour before lunch when I turn the corner and my day is about to be over…

Lukas and Clayton stand holding two buckets, and before I can even get a word out, a bucket of pudding is tipped over my head. Just when I think it couldn’t get any worse, a second bucket is being thrown over me…feathers.

Mia and Sydney rounded the corner just in time for Clayton and Lukas to haul ass and fall to their asses in laughter. Sydney’s loud, donkey laugh is in full effect. The entire hallway is crowded with students, not believing what just happened.

This is his evil brain at work, and although I want to praise the intelligent prank, I want to kill him even more.

Sydney and Mia were finally able to get up and at least help me outside, where I can meet my mom.

“Clayton will die…”