Rafe and Leo were twins. I could never take Leo’s place. No wonder I always felt like I had to be perfect—like I wasn’t quite how I was supposed to be. I wasn’t.

Because I wasn’t Leo. And I never could be.

I’m Not Going

I didn’t tell my mom about the detention. What would have been the point? Clearly, I wasn’t going to the dance.

I went to my room and climbed through my window, onto the roof of the back porch. That’s where I go when I want to be alone.

I looked up at the sky. The moon was lopsided—almost round, but not quite. There are too many lights where I live, so I could see only one or two stars.

“Are you going to make a wish on one?” Rafe asked. He was leaning halfway out his window.

I thought of all my usual wishes, like winning the lottery, becoming a famous Disney Channel star, rocking out at the Battle of the Bands….

None of those wishes seemed to matter anymore. “What’s the point of wishing?” I asked.

Rafe shrugged. “Maybe it’ll come true. Do you mind if I sit out here with you?” “Yes,” I told him.

“Great,” Rafe said, and climbed out his window to join me.

I sighed. Actually, I had meant yes, I do mind, not yes, come sit with me. But Rafe was being nice, and I didn’t really have the energy to tell him I wanted to be alone.

Rafe didn’t say anything. He just lay beside me, looking up at the lumpy moon.

“Did you know?” I asked into the night air.

There was silence from him for a long time. Out in the yard, a lonely cricket chirped. I was starting to think maybe Rafe had fallen asleep or something, and I was about to poke him, when he said, “Yes.”

“When did Mom tell you?”

“She didn’t have to. I remember.”

I felt dizzy. I was glad I was lying down.

“That’s why Mom always gives you all the attention—that and your leg.”

“All the attention?” I repeated. “Are you serious?”

“If I didn’t act crazy, Mom wouldn’t even remember I was around,” Rafe said. “It’s been that way since the day we brought you home.”

The day we brought you home. There was something about those words that made me start to cry. I tried to do it as quietly as possible. Tears leaked out the sides of my eyes and trickled into my hair.

“You’re my sister, Georgia,” Rafe said. “You always have been.” And then he took my hand, and I thought I might just break into jagged little pieces.

I blinked back my tears and swallowed hard. “So, like, are we supposed to hug now?” I asked Rafe.

“No, thanks,” he said. “Your breath is as bad as your band.”