Twinepathy (Part 2): Don’t Call An Ambulance

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I’m frozen for a second before my brain kicks back in. I call for Brooklyn and Denver and scoop the girl up as best I can, bringing her into the house. Brooklyn appears just ahead of Denver and closes the door behind me. “What happened?” she asks, slipping into her calm, rational mindset.

I breathe deeply. Calming. Supposedly. “She passed out on the doorstep.”

“Who is she?” Denver asks, taking her from me – he’s stronger, duh – and setting her gently on the couch.

I shrug. “I don’t know. She didn’t have time to say anything before she just…” I motion with my hand, probably not making much sense.

Denver runs his fingers through his hair. “Oh, I wish Mom and Dad were here,” he moans. “We should call 911.”

Brooklyn and I exchange a glance. We must be getting the same feeling – something’s up, and having the girl sent to the hospital isn’t going to help. “Um… I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Brooklyn says cautiously.

“What do you mean?” Denver asks incredulously.

I can tell Brooklyn’s putting emotions in his head by her squinty concentration face. So I stall. “Well, I mean, it seems like she’s just exhausted or something, and she obviously came here for a reason, and we wouldn’t be able to find that out if we took her to the hospital. And besides, you know some first aid…” I hardly ever babble like this.

Denver looks back and forth between us slowly. “Okay. Whatever you guys think, that’s what we’ll do. I’ll go get her a blanket.” He heads out of the room and down the hall.

I look sideways at Brooklyn. “What did you put in his head?” I ask skeptically. I don’t think Denver’s ever been that peaceful and accommodating.

She shrugs. “Trust.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Is that even an emotion?”

“More like a combination of emotions,” she says, grinning, then turns to the little girl. Her face looks even paler now that she’s unconscious. “Albany, can you go get a glass of water? She’ll probably need that when she wakes up.” Denver appears with the blanket and hands it to Brooklyn. “Thanks. Can you get my bath salts?” Denver gives her a completely blank look.

“I’ll get them,” I grumble. “Denver, you can get a glass of water.”

“Right.” He heads off into the kitchen and I fetch Brooklyn’s smelliest bath salts. How can she stand these? I hand them to her, and she opens them, holding them under the little girl’s nose. Poor girl. Denver arrives with the water just as her eyes flutter open.

“Hey,” Brooklyn says gently, in her I’m-not-going-to-hurt-you-sweet-adorable-thing voice. “How are you feeling?”

The girl blinks slowly and turns her head to the side to stare at me and Brooklyn. She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes fix on the glass of water in Denver’s hand. Brooklyn helps her sit up, then takes the glass from Denver and helps her take a drink. She drinks like she hasn’t had water for days, and somehow she only spills a few drops.

“How are you feeling?” Brooklyn asks again, smoothing the girl’s hair out of her face.

“Where am I?” the girl whispers hoarsely, her face scared as she continues to look around.

“You’re in our house,” I say.

Brooklyn sends me a glare that clearly says ‘Let me handle this.’ I don’t even need a telepathic connection to know that. “I’m Brooklyn,” she says to the girl. “You passed out on our doorstep.”

The girl blinks. “I did? I don’t remember…” She frowns, scrunching up her forehead in a way that books would describe as adorable. It makes me think of a cute little pug, I have to admit. Her gaze locks on Brooklyn.

“What’s your name?” My twin asks, voice still gentle.

The girl’s forehead wrinkles even more. “I-I don’t remember.”

What? Amnesia? Noooo! What do you think will happen next? Are you enjoying this? Comment below!

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