by:

Jordan and his sister, Jess, are twins, some think identical because they look so much alike. They used to fool a lot of people when they were younger but the differences became apparent as they got older or did they?

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Author's Note:Like I promised before here is Ch.2 on Monday. From now on, every new chapter of this story will be posted on Mondays. This is a Jess centric chapter, told from her POV. Each chapter will alternate. I'll let you know if that changes in the Author Note of the perspective chapter. I most forewarn people about a few things. One there is a Non-transgendered tag for this chapter. Because well I don't really get into much of anything like that here. At least not this chapter. Another thing, Jess's narrative is a bit separate from her brother's, she has her own story she goes on. That doesn't mean that there won't be some crossing from time to time. Its something new I'm gonna try here. I hope it works and I hope people will like it. Oh the biggest thing is, she's a major bitch. A lot of people aren't going to like her lol. Don't judge her too harshly though. I'd like to thank ashleigh for all the editing and proof reading help

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2.

Jess

“Blah, blah, blah, Blah”

Mr. Norris had one of those voices. The man could drone on and on and all it ever really sounded like was noise. I hated his class. I hated the way his monotone seemed to make everyone want to shoot themselves. I hated the way that he didn’t really notice how boring he was. More than anything, though, I hated it was my last class of the day. I had more important things to do than sit here and listen to him bore away the hour with a Math lesson that I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who didn’t understand.

Well, maybe not everyone.

I looked over at Lacy Peters.

She was that girl.

You know that little stuck up snot who spent all her school time with her lips firmly planted on the teacher’s ass. Ok, so that was a bit harsh. Lacy was a good person. She was just so damn annoying too. I wouldn’t say I hated her but I did hate how most teachers graded on a curve. Lacy was one of the ones that threw off that curve a great deal. Well, not the only one of course.

Jordan helped.

My dweeby “little” brother. Hey, we might be twins but I was born two minutes before so that makes me older. As the older sibling, I was supposed to be hard on my brother. I think it’s in the rulebook or something. It wasn’t always like that, though. At one time, he and I used to get along pretty well. I’m not sure when things changed, though. It wasn’t like one day I woke up and decided to hate him. He didn’t just wake up and turn into a dweeb overnight either. It was this gradual thing.

Puberty had a lot to do with it too.

Puberty had not been kind to Jordan.

We were twins. Almost identical all our lives. It was fun when we were younger. We could mess with people because it was always hard to tell us apart at first. I say at first because Jordan could never keep it going for long. It was our subtle differences that gave us away. For one thing, he’s really quiet. I wouldn’t say shy but he had this meek way. He doesn’t know the meaning of the word “No” and he’s always letting others push him around because of it. I hate to call him a wuss, but it’s hard not too when well…yeah, he’s a wuss. It only got worse as we got older. Whereas all the boys around him were getting taller and stronger, he pretty much stayed the same.

A sixteen- year- old brother was still not supposed to look like his sister.

Ok so he didn’t have boobs or things like but he still had my face. He had my hair too. We had this coppery blonde hair that hung to our backs, a slight wave too. I used to love it when we were younger because I could braid his hair and put bows in it and things. It was like having a sister. As we got older, though, it stopped being so cool. I mean he’s still not supposed to have that hair. He was supposed to cut it, shave it down to a buzz or something. His skin wasn’t supposed to be that soft either and his voice, don’t even get me started on that voice. He sounded girlier than I did.

I mean he’s my brother. He’s not supposed to look and sound like my sister.

God was cruel to Jordan.

In a way, he was cruel to me too.

We had the same head but I was a little rougher around the edges. My voice a bit huskier, my skin tough from sports. I had a boyish figure too. Very little hips, flat as a board. He might have looked and sounded like a sister but I wasn’t supposed to look like a brother. It didn’t help that Jordan got all the talent too. He was a top notch singer and the way he played the guitar was out of this world. Sure I had sports but what good was kicking a ball around when your brother could put the likes of Taylor Swift to blame. I tried to sing like him but apparently, musical talent only struck some parts of my family.

In that respect, I was the black sheep.

Baah.

“Ok class,” said Norris, glancing at the clock. “I want you to do problems sixty-five through one hundred in the back of your book. If you have any questions, email me”

The bell rang a second later.

Mr. Norris started to say something else but most of the class was out the door.

Including me.

I rushed into the hallway, falling into step with the horde.

TGIF.

This week has been totally boring. The only good thing about it is today. I’ve been waiting all week for today. Today was soccer tryouts. I know what you’re thinking and you’d be correct, yes tryouts are usually the previous year. They were too. Except well there was an accident last week. It was during the fall parade. Every year the soccer boys and girls fundraise for a float. Well, this year was no different except the float was poorly made. Halfway down Main Street, something went wrong and the float collapsed. Two of our girls broke their legs, another broke her ankle. Two of the boys got out of it with broken limbs too.

Boys’ soccer was going to recover. They always did. Us girls, not so much.

Coach Ross felt it only fair that we redo tryouts to fill the empty slots. We only had three alternates---Claire, Britney and myself. This horrible tragedy was my chance. I got screwed out of being on the team last year and being an alternate was insulting. The coach knew I was the best one on the team and when I told her so she got pissy. Said the reason I was made an alternate was because I needed to drop the ego and be a team player. As if I’m not a team player. I mean I did let Tiff take the number nine for her jersey. Everyone knows the best soccer players have number nine. I mean that’s being a team player, right?

Speaking of Tiff…

I saw her running down the hall, trying to catch up with someone. Looking a bit ahead, I saw the back of my brother trying desperately to get away from her.

Not again.

I picked up pace.

Tiff caught up with him as he was approaching his locker.

I heard her: “What gives, I mean I’ve been trying to get your attention since Mr. Hope’s class?”

Idiot.

I loved Tiff to death. She was my BFF. She was, however, the dimmest bulb I’ve ever met. Most commoners had problems telling me and Jordan apart. Tiff should have been a top notch above the rest. I say should have been but like I said, she’s kinda stupid. She only made up for her low IQ on the field. She was one of the best scrimmagers on the team, and on the track, she was a natural sprinter. In the classroom, a piece of chalk was smarter. Ok, so that’s harsh. She was actually pretty smart but she was just dense when it came to certain things.

Like apparently telling the difference between a boy and a girl.

To his credit, Jordan was trying to set her straight.

He was fumbling it again, though.

“Tiff’ I said, annoyed, “what the hell?”

The Light Bulb Goddess looked from me to him then back to me.

“That’s my dweeb of a brother!”

I grabbed her arm and dragged her away.

Tiff laughed. “He should really get a haircut.”

I laughed a bit too.

Jordan turned away from us and went to his locker. I couldn’t help but watch him for a few seconds, though. God, could he be any more obvious. Well ok, he probably didn’t notice but his look screamed attention. I don’t think he intentionally meant to be androgynous but with his hair and slight build, he did it without realizing it. It didn’t help that he tried to hide it either. Hiding it only made him look even more androgynous. I mean seriously---a zip up hoodie, faded blue jeans and high tops. He was just screaming girl. Not to mention his hair. He did this thing where he let part of it hang over his right eye?

Idiot.

“So I’ve got some news,” said Tiff as we stopped at my locker. “Mondo bad.”

I rolled my eyes. Tiff’s idea of bad news would be the Biebs and Gomez getting back together again.

“Ok, so what’s so mondo bad?” I asked, humoring her.

“Claire and Britney are done”

“What?”

That wasn’t bad news. That was horrible news.

“Well Claire’s Dad just got a transfer so they’re moving and Brit doesn’t want to be on the team without her”

“Skanks”

Ok so that was harsh but this was horrible timing.

There were only a handful of girls in the school who were even soccer worthy, to begin with. Besides Tiff who didn’t make the cut last year, that left only a couple of other contenders. Claire and Brit were shoe-ins for the main team. With them gone, there were maybe three or four other girls. Girls soccer took a mondo hit last year too when it was announced that the school was canceling the JV team. There just wasn’t enough interest in girl’s athletics at DCH. Most of the junior and senior girls decided to take their chances with intramural soccer at the community center. So that only left freshman, sophomore, and a few upper classmen stragglers.

Not a good sign.

I grabbed my gym bag from my locker, huffing as I did so.

“So with them out of the way, who do we have left?”

“Ummm,” said Tiff as we started walking. “Dana?”

“She’s doing track this year again”

Tiff was on the track team too but only did the outdoor stuff which was a spring thing.

It was the middle of October now. Soccer thankfully was an all-season thing. Indoor in the winter, outdoor in the spring.

"What about Carly?”

“You didn’t hear?” I asked, shocked. Tiff shock her head. “You haven’t seen her. Well apparently over the summer, Carly, and her fam went on a vacay to Mexico. She blimped out big time. Put on like twenty pounds or something. I saw her in the workout room the other day, crying as she was trying to burn them off. Jake broke up with her too. Totally tragic”

“Holy cow!”

“I know right”

We both had a good laugh.

Poor Carly though.

But more than that, poor Jake.

“Well maybe we can bring in someone else, you know from out of town?”

“Like who?”

“I heard there was this girl over in Prescott…”

I’d heard about her too. She was supposed to be this Soccer Goddess, a beast on the field. Christy something. She had great potential I suppose but I’d also heard she quit cold turkey too.

“And how do we get a Prescott girl here, huh?” I asked. “I mean that place is like what, fifty miles away or something?”

Tiff shrugged.

"From now on, only smart ideas please”

Tiff said nothing more. Which was fine by me because I needed time to think.

But if Brit and Claire ruined my chances of getting on the main team, there was going to be hell to pay for them.

When we got to the gym, there was a bit of a commotion by the front door.

I recognized the five or six girls left on the team plus a few others. It looked like they were staring at something on the door. Probably another message from coach. Coach Ross liked to do that from time to time. Usually, the memos told them to head out the field after changing, things like that. There was a similar memo last week, telling them about new tryouts.

I pushed my way through the crowd, getting a dirty look or two.

Janey Marx was currently reading whatever was there.

“Shit” she cursed.

The girls looked a bit shocked. Janey was one of those holier than thou types, she never swore. So if Janey was swearing than you knew it was bad.

I ignored it for a sec and took a look at the notice.

It was a computer printout but I could tell it was from the coach because she always called us her “Little Birdies”. The school’s mascot was a Raven. Coach thought it was cute, she thought it was cuter when we usually tweeted at her in response. It didn’t take me long to read what the coach had to say. At the end I found myself thinking the same thing that Janey put to words only a second or two before.

Shit.

“They can’t be serious,” I said, flabbergasted at what I’d just read.

“What’s up?’ asked Tiff, who was struggling to read past the gaggle of girls in front of her.

“Effective immediately” I read aloud. “Girls Soccer is canceled. I’m sorry my Little Birdies, Coach Ross”

There were groans from the girls who apparently didn’t get to read it yet.

Tiff cursed.

My mind was still going through the process. How in the hell could those bastards do this to us? I know it wasn’t the coach. She didn’t really have say in the politics behind it. She was young, barely older than Tracy. This was her first year here. Well, they actually brought her in over the summer to do summer school gym class. She met most of us over the summer during the first tryouts. She was here on a trial basis.

"I’m going to go talk to Coach to get to the bottom of this,” I said, making up my mind.

The notice was pretty cryptic.

There had to be more to it.

As I started away from the gym down the hall, I noticed I wasn’t alone. Tiff fell into step beside me then Janey. I heard the footfall of the others too. Solidarity. I felt a little proud about that. We didn’t have a team captain anymore. She was one of the girls who fell off the float. Our team was aimless and leaderless but if willing, I was going to fill that void at the moment. No one seemed to be objecting to it either.

The gym coaches had their offices down the hall from the gym.

We’d all been to Coach Ross’ a few times.

I stopped in front of her door, taking a deep breath.

“You got this, Jess,” said Tiff, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.

I knocked on the door. The muffled voice of the coach told me to enter.

The others stayed behind.

Opening the door, I found the coach at her desk. Like I said she was only a few years older than my sister so maybe twenty-five or so. She was wearing a track suit in the school colors of silver and blue, her long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her laptop was open in front of her but as soon as she looked up, we locked eyes. She sighed so she knew why I was there.

“Flynn, don’t start,” she said, exasperated.

"I don’t get it,” I said, dropping into the chair in front of the desk.

"I’ve been arguing with the Board and the Athletics director all morning and afternoon over it”

Well, at least she was fighting it.

“So what happened?”

“Molly,” said the coach with a sigh. "Her break was a little more severe than earlier thought, her parents are suing”

Oh shit.

Molly Wright was one of the strikers. A damn good one too. I’d heard what happened and I could only imagine how much pain she was in. She was near the back of the float, leaning against the rail when it gave way. She toppled backward off of it, both the rail and John Cooper landed on her. The wooden beam and the combined weight of Coop, I could only imagine.

“Her folks are on the warpath. Molly’s leg was fractured in several places. So they’re suing the school and the Coopers. The Board had a meeting and decided girls soccer was more of a liability to them. They canceled it last night, dropped the ball on me this morning.”

Damn them.

“What about the boys?”

Coach gave an “are you kidding” look. Yeah, I thought as much.

“The boys are state champions. They fill seats, they make money. Add this to the whole Hope Solo thing and Team US not getting gold over the summer and you can see how much the Board is interested in girls soccer”

I groaned.

Hope Solo was gonna tarnish girls’ soccer for a while after that.

Stupid bitch.

I used to have her poster on my wall.

Emphasis on the “used” to.

“Can we fight it?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do. They seem pretty made up about it, though. There will be an official inquiry into it but it doesn’t sound promising.” She sighed and stood up, walking around the desk. “I’m sorry it came to this. I was really looking forward to taking this team to the top”

I stood to face her and she gave me a hug.

She apologized again as I left her office. Tiff was the only one waiting for me. So much for solidarity after all. Coach hugged and apologized to Tiff as well. Then she went back into the office, leaving us alone.

"Well?" asked Tiff as I sighed heavily.

“Stupid Molly’s parents sued the school”

"That sucks”

“It gets worse,” I said, starting down the hall. “The board got their panties in a twist and said girls soccer wasn’t worth the trouble so they canned it. But the boys…this is bullshit!”

Tiff was silent for a moment then spoke up.

“Why don’t we try out for the boy’s team then?”

“What?”

She was pointing to one of the bulletin boards on the wall. There were a bunch of different notices and fliers on there. One of them was a flyer for boys soccer tryouts.

“It's not unheard of you know” continued Tiff “I mean girls play on boys’ teams all the time right?”

It wasn’t unheard of but I knew Coach McGuire. He was a bit of a hard ass. One of the chauvinistic pigs who thought women should be in the kitchen and not on the field. I’d had a few run-ins with him before. He used to coach intramural soccer for younger kids. He raised quite a stink when there were a few girls on the team. But because the teams were mixed, he ended up losing his job. I mean it was community run and him being there was on their dime. He took it to the City Council and everything. I can’t even figure out how a dickhead like him got to coach the boys’ team.

I guess it just goes to show who you know.

The question was, had the coach mellowed in age?

“C’mon,” said Tiff, jangling her keys in my face. “Let’s get out of here”

I nodded.

I’d figure something out and call her later.

We lived in a cul-de-sac, the center house with two houses on either side of us. All the houses in the development were large and McMansionish. I’m sure you’d seen the like before. Thankfully we all had huge yards and lots of space between us. I’m not sure what my Dad was thinking, to be honest. There was nothing wrong with Pine Crest Acres I suppose but every house looking the same was pretty tacky. It didn’t help that we were living near a bunch of dweebs. Thankfully for me, Tiff lived nearby or else I would have run away from home a long time ago.

Pulling up to the house in Tiff’s teal blue Versa, I couldn’t help but groan when I saw the white van parked out front.

Great, the Moron Squad was here.

Tiff made a face when she saw the van too.

“You want me to stay?”

I was about to say yes when I noticed the motorcycle. Shit. Looks like Mom had a visitor too? Maybe it was Brian again? I looked over at Tiff and I couldn’t let her there if Brian was there. She’d freak more than I did. Ok so to be fair I didn’t freak as much as Jordan said I did. But it was Brian Vogel.

“No Tiff. I don’t want you to catch whatever they’re carrying”

I climbed out of the car.

“I’ll text you later about tomorrow,” I said, closing the door.

I waved as she drove off. As soon as she was out of sight, I bolted for the house. As soon as I got inside, I shouted for Mom. Then I noticed the studio light on. Jordan and the Dweebs were probably downstairs playing their “music”. If you even wanted to call it that. Basically, the three of them sat around jamming, cobbling together noise that they claimed was music. Ok, so it pains me to admit that my brother was good. Not quite on par with Tracy but he was still pretty good. It still pissed me off that he was better than me, though. Well, it was for losers anyway so what did I care?

“Honey why must you always shout?” said my mother as she came down the stairs.

Mom was in her late forties but didn’t look a day over forty. She had long auburn hair like me and Jordan. Unlike ours, though, hers was streaked with gray. It was the only thing that showed her age, though. Mom took really good care of herself. She jogged every morning, drank healthy smoothies every day and went to the gym at least three times a week. Because of all that, she looked much younger. To be fair, though, Dad was in pretty good shape too. It was hard to believe both of them were almost fifty.

My parents had Tracy about a year or two out of college. I don’t think they were ever expecting to have other children, to be honest. Not that they didn’t want me and Jordan but I think we surprised them. Tracy was six years older than us. I think she was the only one who was thrilled by the prospect of having younger siblings. She was in her senior year at State now, pre-med. She was going to follow in Dad’s footsteps.

I thought about doing the same though I think I want to try sports medicine.

“I’m sorry Mom,” I said, following her into the kitchen.

I noticed two empty mugs at the table.

“It's not Brian,” mom said as I stared at one of the mugs.

“What?”

‘The motorcycle” Mom said, clearing the table. “I know you were itching to ask about it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

She laughed. “Well if you must know, it’s a singer for your brother’s band”

I scoffed. “So another Dweeb for the Dweebs”

“I wish you wouldn’t call you brother a dweeb. You two used to be so close once”

“Yeah when we were five”

Ok so not quite. Jordan and I started to drift apart in middle school actually. I’d be lying if I said it was all him. We just lost interest in one another. He started his music thing and I naturally rolled into sports. It’s not like I didn’t try to get him interested. I dragged him to a bunch of tryouts and things. Dad tried too. Jordan was just never really interested. No offense to my brother but he’s always been a bit of a Momma’s Boy. It didn’t help that Mom was always there pushing him too. Ok so Jordan did have talent, hell a lot of talent. When he opened his mouth, it was like angels were flying out of it. It was this amazing voice. It was just too bad that he sounded more like Taylor Swift than Trent Reznor.

Mom put a plate of cookies on the table. Not homemade but I didn’t care.

I dug into them.

“How did tryouts go?”

“They didn’t,” I said, a mouthful of cookie.

“Honey, chew”

I swallowed. “They canned the team Mom”

“What?”

I nodded. “Stupid Molly. She apparently really broke her leg, like really bad broke it. Her parents sued. The Board freaked so they canceled girls’ soccer”

“Poor Molly” Mom said sadly.

I scoffed. “What about me?”

“Poor you too,” Mom said sarcastically, giving me a half hug.

Whatever.

Mom was such a parent sometimes.

I had eaten a few more cookies and was halfway through eating another when I heard the commotion on the stairs. Great here comes the Dweeb Squad. Steve and Craig were up the stairs first. Steve made a play for my cookies but I swiped them away. Nice try lardo. A moment later, I heard a girl laughing. Followed quickly after by her and my brother coming up the stairs. Holy shit. This girl she was…what the hell was she doing with them. Her boobs were bigger than my head and her outfit! did she paint it on? She and my brother were laughing too. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard him laugh.

When they got up the stairs, the girl stopped and stared at me.

“Holy shit, you’re a clone!”

Ha ha.

Bitch.

Jordan rolled his eyes. “Jess, this is Torrie. Torrie, that’s Jess.”

“Hey,” I said, still holding my half eaten cookie.

“Oh, JC, your brother is cute”

Brother as if.

Jordan and the guys laughed.

“I’m his sister,” I said, pissed.

“Oh,” she said, slightly embarrassed. “Well girl, you really need to moisturize”

I felt like giving the skank the finger. Instead, I just finished eating my cookie.

“Well JC, I gotta jet. Call me and we’ll hash out details” she gave my brother a hug then kissed him on the cheek.

Where the hell does she get off calling him J.C.?

That’s a family nickname.

I was totally flabbergasted that someone like that would be friends with my brother. What’s worse, before she left the kitchen, the bitch totally ganked one of my cookies. I almost decked Trailer Trash Barbie but she bolted before I could react. I was still sitting there with my mouth open when I heard the revving of her motorcycle.

“Dude she totally burned you,” said Steve with a laugh.

“Fuck off fatty!”

“Jessica Diane Flynn!”

Shit, I forgot Mom was still here.

“Sorry Mom,” I said then grumbled. “Stupid skank. I’m gonna bust her in the mouth the next time I see her”

“She’s right you know honey,” said Mom with a sympathetic look. “You really should moisturize more”

I groaned, slammed the plate on the table and stormed out of the kitchen.

Stupid Bitch, stupid Dweebs, stupid Mom.

I went into my bedroom and slammed the door.

Author’s note: As I’m sure all of you know, comments are life blood to an author. I’m not begging or demanding, but I certainly would appreciate anything you have to say (or ask). It doesn’t have to be long and involved, just give me your reaction to the story. Thanks in advance...EOF