Gemini by Sonya Mukherjee Page A

lot of stuff you’re taking home.”
    â€œYeah, I’m getting ready for this interview. There’s this program over the summer, in San Francisco. Did you hear about that? It’s like a summer intensive with real working artists. Three whole weeks at Golden Gate Arts. I’m going down to show them my portfolio in a couple of weeks, and I thought I’d bring some stuff home to start going through it.”
    He tilted his head to one side and looked thoughtfully at his canvas, then stuffed it back into the portfolio. Without quite looking at me, he said, “You should come too.”
    San Francisco. Real art professors. And Alek.
    You know how people put Mentos in Diet Coke and it makes the whole thing explode? And it’s pretty spectacular? I felt like my heart was the Diet Coke, and each of those things was a Mentos: San Francisco. Art professors. Alek.
    But I just nodded, pretending that he had described something mildly interesting at best. “San Francisco, huh?” I stole a quick sideways glance at Clara. There was no way she would ever consider it. And no way that our mom would ever let us go.
    Dad might be on my side. But it wasn’t likely to do much good. Not when we were up against the hard wall of Mom and Clara.
    â€œYeah,” Alek said, “you stay in the dorms on campus.”His gaze flitted over to Clara. “Um, would that be a problem? The dorm rooms?”
    Some of his hair fell into his eyes. A weird thought popped into my head. I wished I could reach up and brush it away for him. I wanted to see his eyes, which in this hazy October light would be so dark, they would look almost black. And I wanted to touch his hair.
    I shrugged. “I don’t know. We might be able to manage it.” I cocked my head toward Clara. “We could probably live in a dorm room for a few weeks, don’t you think?” I knew it was impossible. I didn’t know why I was even asking her, when the mere thought was bound to give her a heart attack.
    Clara answered tightly, “They probably only have twin beds.”
    Ironically, we cannot sleep in twin beds.
    â€œMaybe they’d make an exception,” Alek said, brushing the hair out of his eyes himself. “They could let you live off campus or bring in a bigger bed. Or maybe they have some special rooms to accommodate people with different needs.”
    His words jolted me. Accommodate. Different needs. Not that there was any better way to say it.
    He was probably right. The art school had probably never had to accommodate conjoined twins before, but they’d probably had plenty of different needs come up in the past. I didn’t normally think about being part of some larger group of disabled people, those with wheelchairs or canes, hearingaids or service dogs. But there was no reason why I shouldn’t.
    â€œSeriously, Hailey,” Alek went on, oblivious, “you should really come. I know you’d get in for sure. My cousin did it two years ago, and she said it totally turned her art around. I mean she was good to begin with, but afterward she was—well, still not as good as you, but close. Of course I’m also applying for the fall, but I’m not sure if I’ll be going then.”
    For some reason he looked toward Clara as he asked, “You guys are going to Sutter next year, right?”
    Clara gave a slight nod, but I was the one who spoke. “I’d love to go to art school instead, but the thing is, and I don’t know if you ever noticed this about me or not? But I’m actually a conjoined twin.”
    Alek laughed. His laugh was low-pitched and musical, and I immediately wanted to hear it again. “And here I thought the two of you were just really close.”
    â€œYeah, no,” I said, feeling warmer now and more hopeful, “and the thing about it is, my sister hates art. She is such a huge pain in my backside, if you know what I mean?”
    He