GoKawiilFootsteps ran up the stairs. I clutched at my bottle. Then someone banged on my bedroom door. I jumped.
“Go away,” I said.
“It’s me,” said Thomas, and he was like a brother to me. He was all right.
I unlocked the door. He rushed in, all out of breath, locking the door behind him. I had Sludge playing, as usual. Thomas cranked it up before cupping his hand to my ear.
“It’s true,” he said, and I knew right away what he meant.
I was a clone. I took a slug from the bottle, already numbed to the idea. Letting it sink in: I was a clone. “Of who?”
“Whom,” he said, always the smart ass. That gap-toothed grin. Seriously, then. “Sorry, man. Don’t know.”
“OK, no problem.” I knew Thomas, and I knew how it was. He was brave, sure. Braver than me. But he wasn’t stupid. If he’d stuck around any longer, they’d have noticed him, and he’d never had made it back to me. He’d be disappeared, like Rob, or Janice, or that new girl. Mother had an answer for everything. Excuses, excuses.
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Still, I wondered who he was. Who I was. My genetic material, anyway. I wasn’t him, and he wasn’t me. Separated from birth. We had different experiences, so our brains would get wired up differently. Like the same glasses filled with different spirits.
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