First Meeting
by
Disclaimer:
I own none of these characters or story lines. Actually, maybe I could have claimed ownership to the guy narrating, since his name was never mentioned, but I’m about to wreck that in the next sentence.Author’s Note:
This is from Kyle Valenti’s POV.This is dedicated to the little girl I sit next to in choir, who looks exactly how I picture Isabel as a child, and always inspires me with the best stories! Thank you!
Feedback: Sure.
Let me know how I’m doing. It goes to [email protected]. Thanks!I met Max and Isabel Evans in second grade. From the beginning, I was freaked out by them, but at the time I thought it was either the fact that they annoyed me or the twin-thing they can do which involves a lot of silent communication. I’d met other twins who could do that, and they freaked me out too, so I didn't suspect anything.
Neither one of them was in my classroom, thank the stars, but there was only one choir in the school, and they were in it at the insistence of their parents, who thought they could use all the socializing they could get. I was there because I liked to sing. Something I got from my mom, probably, though I don't remember her very well.
When they joined, the teacher sat them right in front of me. I took one look at them, and disliked the boy immediately. Even at that young age, I could see he was going to be serious, methodical and logical, one of the loners who always did their homework and got all A’s, but never got any recognition because they didn’t have any friends to do any recognizing.
The girl, she could go either way. Looking back on the younger Isabel, I realized I had seen the potential in her to turn into two things very different things: A wildly popular, smart, beautiful, sassy young woman, or a smart-mouthed, no-brained cheerleader-type who was basically a pain in the ass. Although they are good for the occasional flirting session or quick lay.
Of course, when I was seven, I didn’t think quite that way.
The first thing I noticed when they sat in front of me was that they looked nothing alike. Isabel was blond and sassy, even at that young age. A quick tongue and a quicker wit, she was full of biting sarcasm. Guarded and skeptical of everything, she had a way of hiding it that made her seem friendly, if a little haughty in that ‘popular kid’ way. But I didn’t miss a clue that all the adults had: Isabel was scared. Of something.
Physically, they were nothing alike, either. Max had dark hair, almost black. It was cut short, no-nonsense. He had bangs that made him look younger than he was and dark eyes, almost the color of his hair. The more serious of the Evans siblings almost never cracked a smile, and I heard the teachers worrying.
“Max is so somber, so serious for a kid.”
“He’s adopted, right? I wonder what happened to him before he was abandoned.”
“Must have been something bad. I’ve never seen a child so weighed down.”
“The Evans’ say he claims not to remember anything before he was picked up on the road.”
“Poor kid.”
Some variation of this conversation occurred at least every other day at Roswell Elementary school. My teacher was friends with the other second grade teacher, so it was usually the two of them talking. But occasionally it was Max’s teacher and the guidance counselor, or on rare occasions, the principal.
So, when they moved in in front of me for an hour every week, I made it my business to find out what was going on with them. Funny thing is, now that I know, I’d rather have stayed in oblivion. Then again, I’d rather still be seven, too, sometimes, but I’d never want that for real. So maybe it’s something scary, but not necessarily bad to know about. After all, it did bring Tess into my life.
In June of 1991, Max and Isabel graduated second grade at Roswell Elementary school with the first and third test scores, respectively. Their teachers in the third grade fussed over them, and were then bitterly disappointed when they failed to make expectations.
Max met, or at least saw, Liz Parker for the first time in third grade, and he spent so much time daydreaming that his class rank in 1992 was a measly fourth. Isabel discovered the benefits of a large social life, and her rank dropped to seventh. The ‘Wonder Siblings’ nicknames given to them by the teachers was gone after that year, too.
But the impression that will always stick with me was the first time I saw them, Isabel dragging a reluctant Max into the seat next to her and in front of me, a big smile on her face. Her blond hair was loose and falling all around her shoulders, and she stuck her face in Max’s and made a funny face. He cracked a small smile, and gripped her hand tighter for a second. And in that moment, I had the eerie feeling that something had passed between them that the rest of us missed.