My bare feet slap against the wood flooring as I race down the hall. I hate being late. I actually hate being on time. I need to be early.
"Where did she put them?" I whisper to myself, spinning around the small bedroom my sister and I use as a walk-in closet. The room is a disaster, still littered with boxes from our move. It's been a month already but both us have been too busy to finish unpacking.
"If I was Brooklyn, where would I leave a pair of flip-flops?" I ask myself. "The closet makes too much sense."
Having already searched for the car keys, hair straightener, and my favorite lip gloss, I am irritated to say the least. Nothing new.
Brooklyn got in late the night before from work. I really don't want to wake her to ask about them. She would breathe fire and tell me to fuck off. Huge waste of time, really.
I am the morning person; she is the night owl.
I dart out of the room and slide into the kitchen. Of course, the pair of sandals sit near the fridge. I shake my head as I slip my feet inside, picturing my sister taking them off as she rummaged the fridge late last night.
"Your screaming woke me up."
I spin on my heel and come face to face with Brooklyn. She looks as exhausted as I feel. Like looking into a mirror.
"Sorry," I say, and I mean it.
"Fourth time this week," she reminds me.
"I'm aware, Brooklyn," I snap. "Is there a reason we can't put the keys on the hook by the door?"
"Because we all can't be as organized and efficient as you, London," she mocks, crossing her arms in annoyance.
Her long brown hair is a knotted mess, her mascara is smudged, and I can see her freckles that are usually covered with makeup. She still looks beautiful even though she just woke up after only a few hours of sleep. Funny how identical we are, but I always think of her as the prettier one. The only difference in appearance is the birth mark I carry on my hipbone but Brooklyn has a sex appeal to her that I don't.
"Well only one of us can be flighty and impulsive. If we both did whatever the hell we felt like, then the world would implode with the chaos."
Brooklyn is the storm to my calm. She is loud where I am quieter. She was the one who thought up the bad ideas. I was the one who thought things out and kept us grounded.