yessleep

I was born on the 17th of May 1993, in a small town in Cornwall. Not that I would know, of course, that’s just the date on my birth certificate. My twin sister Drew and I spent most of our childhood in and out of foster care. We never knew our biological parents, but the social workers always made sure we were adopted together. By the time we were thirteen we’d already had three adoptive families. We were used to homes having an expiration date, so when we were adopted by the Murphy family, Drew refused to unpack her suitcase for the better half of the month.

“It’s not like we’ll be here very long anyway,” she said one night, “Mrs. Murphy is a piece of work.”

I couldn’t argue with that. Out of the three adoptive families we had previously had, this one seemed the least promising. Mrs. Murphy was an old-fashioned woman in her early fifties. She had a strict, no-nonsense attitude and was convinced that structure and discipline was exactly what children like us needed. Her husband was often away on business, so we had only seen him a handful of times.

One good thing about being adopted by the Murphys was that I no longer had to go to school. I’d had severe troubles with it in the past, so Mrs. Murphy allowed me to be home-schooled on the condition that I’d take the work seriously. Drew, on the other hand, was happy to go to school and always returned with new stories to tell me.

“Melissa was making fun of me in the bathroom today,” she said scornfully, plopping down on my bed, “So I tripped her up on her way to the chalkboard.”

I chuckled.

“Did you get in trouble?”

“Nope, no one saw,” she smiled viciously, “How’s the homework going?”

“It sucks,” I admitted, scanning the algebra books strewn across the floor, “Math is hard, and Mrs. Murphy expects me to do it myself.”

“Huh,” Drew said, peering over my shoulder, “Well, you can finish it later, let’s do something fun.”

“Like what?”

“Dunno,” she blew a strand of hair out of her face, “Wanna check out Mrs. Murphy’s room?”

I felt intrigued. Mr. and Mrs. Murphy’s bedroom was the only room we hadn’t explored since our arrival. We had tried once but were caught red-handed sneaking down the corridor. Mrs. Murphy was pretty irritated with us that time and said that their bedroom was off limits.

Drew must have noticed my hesitation.

“She’s downstairs making dinner,” she said, “She’ll never know.”

“Well, I suppose if we’re quick about it,” I shrugged.

“Great,” Drew was already out the door, and I followed her, looking around warily.

We tiptoed down the hallway and tried the handle. It was unlocked and the door opened with a slight creak.

It was a bedroom like any other. A double bed, a mahogany dresser, and a wardrobe – that was it. Drew wrinkled her nose, and I knew she wasn’t satisfied. She marched over to the wardrobe and flung it open, scanning the contents. The dresser was next. Drew pulled each drawer open with striking force and I winced every time I thought I heard footsteps on the stairs.

“Drew, be quiet! She’ll hear us!” I hissed.

But she took no notice.

“Lookie here,” she turned to me with a victorious smile.

At first, I didn’t know what I was looking at. The drawer was piled high with multicolour garments. Drew was practically squealing with laughter by the time I noticed it. Peeking out from under the sleeve of a red sweater was a small cylindrical object with a metallic base.

“Al and Drew!” Mrs. Murphy called from downstairs, “Dinner!”

I held my breath as Drew doubled over with laughter.

“Enough, let’s go,” I said, shutting the drawer and hurriedly pulling her towards the door.

She was still giggling as we entered the kitchen.

“Drew, shut up,” I said, blushing.

Mrs. Murphy looked at us but said nothing. Did she know what we had done?

“How’s the homework going?” she asked, as we sat down at the dinner table.

“It’s alright,” I lied.

Drew was much better at math than I was. I knew she would help me finish the sums.

“Would you like to go to the cinema tomorrow?” Mrs. Murphy said, stirring her soup, “They’re showing a new film about dinosaurs.”

“But dinosaurs are so boring,” Drew retorted, “Why can’t we see the alien movie instead?”

“I don’t like aliens,” I said, “Can’t you go see it with someone from school?”

“But I haven’t made any friends yet,” she pulled a face, “All the kids are snobby and stuck-up.”

“Well, maybe if you wouldn’t trip them up, someone might actually want to be friends with you,” I said.

Drew stuck her tongue out at me.

“Listen, I think it’s time we had a little chat,” Mrs. Murphy said, nervously picking at the hem of her apron.

Drew shot me an angry look. I knew I shouldn’t have told on her.

“I don’t know how things were in your previous homes, but in this family, we value honesty over pandering.”

“Oh god, here we go,” Drew sighed.

I knew she was already thinking about where she put her suitcase.

“Now, I’ve tried to be patient,” Mrs. Murphy began, “I understand that your situation has been less than ideal, but this is your home now and I want to try and make things work.”

Drew kicked me under the table.

“Ow, Drew, stop!”

“Listen to me, it’s normal to have imaginary friends at a young age, but you are almost fourteen now.” Mrs. Murphy placed her hand gently on my shoulder.

I gawked at her.

“I don’t have imaginary friends.”

Mrs. Murphy looked gravely uncomfortable.

“You must understand,” she spoke softly, “Drew isn’t real.”

I looked at her and then at Drew sitting on the chair next to me. I wondered if perhaps Mrs. Murphy wasn’t in her right mind.

“W-what do you mean? She’s my sister, you adopted us, you just called us both down for dinner!”