I don’t really know how I was able to be Zara’s sister. We were different as day and night, light and dark. And, if you were making that comparison… I would be the dark. When Zara bounced into the room with a spring in her step, it was as if the world lightened, just a fraction. Because, really, Zara was light.
Zara was everything that I’m not… brave, outgoing, talkative. When she entered a room, everyone in it hushed up to hear what she had to say. I followed her everywhere she went, like a shadow or a particularly bland piece of wallpaper.
Whenever people saw Zara and me together, they always asked the same question. They didn’t understand how two such different girls could be twins. After all, Zara had curly, golden hair, smooth and sleek no matter what she did with it. I usually put my hair – black, like a raven’s wings – into a braid.
Still, Zara and I were inseparable. I remember Gram joking that we were joined at the hip – and I guess it was true. Zara was bread and butter to me, as necessary as air. The first time we went to school, I cried and cried because the principal put us in different classes. I don’t know if Zara cried, too, but I doubt it. Even in kindergarten, Zara wasn’t that kind of girl.
Hmm? That's nice dear. Now finish your homework.
Zara, put that silly essay away. Mummy saw a delightful little dress at the mall today that would be just darling for you. Come on, hurry now, Daddy's waiting in the car.
Mary-Jane, don't play with the scissors, that's a goo--
Opening: Kelly Fitzpatrick.....Continuation: anon.