Rolling “Shai?” The blessed silence of my now-empty bedroom was sacrificed to my mother's voice coming from the hallway. She waited for a response before gently knocking on the door and pushing it open. “Honey? Are you awake?” I didn't answer, instead letting her come over and place a cold hand on my shoulder. She squeezed my shoulder and rubbed the back of my neck in an attempt to wake me up. “We've got to hit the road, hon,” Mom tried again. I lifted up my neck painstakingly. My whole body ached from lying on the floor all night. My temples throbbed and my feet felt like blocks of ice underneath the covers. Mom sensed my movement and backed off. Her footsteps shook the floor, and, in consequence, a sharp pain ran through my spine. “Are the twins awake?” I croaked. Abby and Nicki began shouting at each other across the hall. “Oh.” “Get dressed,” Mom said, closing the door behind her as she walked out. I stretched out of my crumpled shape and stood up. Each vertebra in my back slowly clicked back into place as I placed both feet on the ground. The house smelled like bacon. My stomach turned from lack of sleep. I pulled off my pajamas in a hurry. The cold morning air felt like the gust of cold air that rushes from the freezer when you open the door. I stepped into a pair of jeans and yanked a sweater over my head. I collected the pile of sheets and throw blankets and stuffed them into the plastic container in the corner. I picked up the container and bumped the door open with my hip. Abby had started to blast music, much to Nicki's displeasure, or at least that's what I gathered from the shouting coming from their tiny room across the hall. “Abby, turn it down,” Mom yelled from the kitchen. I pushed open the door just as Nicki jumped onto Abby's back and screamed. Abby spun around and yelled back. Nicki tumbled off and grabbed Abby's long brown hair. Abby responded by aiming a kick backward. Nicki recoiled and shrieked. I kicked Abby's ten-year-old stereo hard enough to yank the plug out of the wall. The two twelve-year-olds stopped immediately, as if I had pressed a pause button on a Tom & Jerry cartoon. “Give me your covers,” I said, picking up Abby's sleeping bag and stuffing it in the box. Nicki straightened and released Abby's hair. Abby put her foot back on the floor and looked up at me apologetically. Nicki flipped open a compact mirror and fixed her hair. Abby stuck her tongue out at her and picked up the stereo, cradling it under her arm like a
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