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he didn’t exist sometimes. I know it’s one of those wishes that t.v. programs tell us we’ll regret, but I just wish I could sort of be my own person, you know?”

I sighed, “you are your own person, Cam. You’re fraternal twins. You don’t share any more DNA than any normal siblings.”

“Yeah, but are siblings normally always…there?” Cameron wrinkled her nose. She shook her head. “I wish there was a book of answers.”

“Yeah, it would be –” I broke off. Our teacher, Mrs. Eacker, had finished shuffling papers on her desk and was stalking to the front of the room. Her commute left a wake of hushed conversations. When she faced front, all conversations had ceased; all eyes on Mrs. Eacker. I smiled to myself, resisting the urge to giggle. Halfway through the year, I had still not gotten used to Mrs. Eacker’s effect on people. Then again, she was the best English teacher in the school.

Mrs. Eacker gave us a half smile. “Good afternoon, class. I hope you had a good lunch, because today we’re going to practice our writing.”

Someone (or everyone) groaned.

“Don’t look so bleak,” Mrs. Eacker went on unfazed. “This is a writing class. And writing is fun!”

Everyone laughed cynically. I joined in, despite the horror that squelched in my stomach. I wished I could claim sick for once and skip the essay.

“It’s pretty standard,” Mrs. Eacker began to pass out the writing prompts. “You have forty minutes. Read the prompt carefully – maybe.” A spattering of giggles broke out.

A sheet of paper slid down in front of me as Mrs. Eacker brushed by my desk. I sighed and looked down at the innocent, typed paragraph at the top of the page.

Using specific evidence, defend, challenge, or qualify Shakespeare’s view of greatness.
From Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, 1601:
Malvalio: In my stars I am above thee; but be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em.

Great. A vague prompt. I closed my eyes for a moment, gathering my thoughts. Then I began to write.

“What did you think about that prompt?” Cameron asked me as we walked out and breathed a sigh of relief.

I shrugged. I always shrugged.

Cameron sighed. “It seemed different from our other prompts, don’t you think?”

I shrugged again. The headache was back. Not exactly painful, but a constant throbbing presence which I wished would just go away.

“Hey, Cam. Hey, Maggie.” Andrew popped out from around the corner.

Cameron started, glared at her brother, and tried to walk past him. I followed. “Go away.”
Andrew sped after us, stopping Cameron. “Hey, wait! We go home in the same car.” He reminded her.

“I’ll tell mom you got lost,” Cameron said coldly.

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Don’t you want to hear what I have to say?” He glanced at me, expecting me to answer as well.

Cameron and I exchanged glances, then shook our heads.

“But don’t you want to know why weird things have been happening?” Andrew persisted.

Cameron narrowed her eyes. “What are you trying to pull on us? ‘Weird things’?”

Andrew opened his mouth.

Cameron cut him off. “We don’t want to hear it. Come on, Maggie.” I followed