exchange
My sister, Jessica, traded her intelligence for
my beauty. Only, she didn’t know the trade
required both of our consent. On the day of the
SATS, she wanted her smarts back. I said no. I
got into Harvard. She got pregnant. My
ridiculously biased parents lost their minds.
Jessica and I are fraternal twins, but total
opposites. She was overweight and, frankly, not
blessed in the looks department, but she was
brilliant. Me? I was the pretty one, but dumb as
a brick.
Growing up, Jessica excelled at everything. At
school, she was the teachers‘ pet, always top
of the class. I, on the other hand, was the
beautiful but hopelessly stupid kid consistently
at the bottom. No matter how hard I tried,
knowledge just wouldn’t stick. Jessica could
skim a textbook before a test and ace it.
Teachers called her a once–in–a–generation
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genius. With me, they just sighed. “They’re
twins, but Ashley just doesn’t get it. All that
effort, and her grades are still terrible.”
My parents, naturally, favored her. Whenever we
went out as a family, Jessica was always in the
middle, Mom and Dad holding her hands on
either side. I trailed behind like a forgotten
suitcase. Occasionally, a neighbor would
compliment my looks, and Mom would pull
Jessica closer, putting me down. “Pretty is as
pretty does. She’s got the brains of a flea.
Always failing. No common sense. Not like Jess,
always number one.” Dad would just nod along.
“One daughter’s a blessing, the other’s a
lesson.”
Growing up, Jessica always got first pick of
everything – toys, clothes, you name it. I got
her hand–me–downs. When I was eight, just
before a dance recital for our school’s spring
festival, Mom bought me a pair of sparkly white
ballet flats, as required by my teacher. The
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night before the recital, Jessica snatched them. I cried and cried. I couldn’t perform without the right shoes. They knew that. Mom just glared. “Ashley, you have to let your sister have them.” Dad shoved me to the ground. “Stop wasting
time with dancing and focus on your studies! We can’t afford these frills.” The next day, after months of practice, I was pulled from the recital. I watched from the sidelines as my classmates performed. I never looked forward to spring festivals again. Later, Jessica stepped in dog poop and tossed the shoes back to me. I sat on a bench, scrubbing them clean, wearing them until they were way too small.
Dinner was always made to Jessica’s liking. I’m
allergic to shellfish, but Jessica loved it, so
we’d have shrimp and crab for weeks on end.
Nothing else. “You’re just being dramatic. Eat it
or starve.” Mom would yell while piling shrimp
onto Jessica’s plate. “High maintenance, low
results,” Dad would slur, half–drunk, banging
his fist on the table. “You think you’re too good
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for regular food? Let’s see how you like going
hungry. After the SATs, you’re getting a factory job to pay for your sister’s college.”
Jessica smirked, her face, usually blotchy with
acne, twisting into a cruel smile. “Ashley, you
know why you’re so dumb? Because you don’t
eat fish!” She dropped a piece of fish onto my plate. “Eat up. Maybe you’ll get smarter. I
wouldn’t want my dear sister dropping out at
eighteen. That’d be tragic. Though, maybe
you’d get lucky. Some old factory owner might
take a liking to you. Fancy yourself a sugar
baby?”
I picked the fish out of my bowl. “Sounds like a
dream. Why don’t you go?”
Before Jessica could respond, Mom slapped
- me. “Get out! Don’t talk back! Your sister is
going to Harvard!” “And after all the time your
sister spends tutoring you…” Jessica’s tutoring
always involved the most complicated methods.
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