Free Beautiful Lies by Jessica Warman Page B

medical intervention, Rachel and I look exactly alike. What do you think the chances are, Robin?”
    He studies me for a few seconds before responding. “And you think there’s some sort of … what? A psychic connection between the two of you?”
    “Yes,” I tell him. “It’s been that way our entire lives. I can sense her. I can tell when she’s not okay. And sometimes it becomes … physical.”
    “Physical how? What do you mean?”
    I gesture to my face. “I didn’t do this to myself, Robin.Nobody hurt me, either. This happened because somebody is hurting Rachel.”
    Robin looks around the room, almost like he’s expecting a camera crew to jump out from behind a chair and tell him this is all a big joke. Except that it’s not funny.
    “Has this kind of thing ever happened to you before?”
    I nod. “Lots of times. And there have been so many little things too, things that I sense before they happen to her.”
    “Like what?” He pauses, reaching toward me. “Come here.” He takes my hand and tugs me onto the couch. I sit down beside him, let him wrap his arms around me, and rest my head against his chest. Our fight seems so ridiculous now that we’re together again, his body warm and comforting, the pressure from his embrace somehow slowing my panic, absorbing my fear. I’m so grateful that he isn’t laughing or dismissing me entirely. Instead, he’s being kind; he’s listening, trying to understand. He knows me, and he knows I wouldn’t lie to him, especially not about something so serious.
    “When we turned twelve, my aunt and uncle bought us new bikes for our birthdays. Rachel was so excited, way more than I was. It was a really pretty day, and my aunt and uncle told us we could go for a ride right away. The bikes were in our backyard, and before Rachel was even out the door, I
knew
she shouldn’t go. I didn’t know why, but I was certain something awful was about to happen. But there wasn’t much time for me to do anything, and I was so scared that I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t know how else to stop her,so I grabbed one of my aunt’s porcelain figurines from the mantel and I threw it against the wall. That got everyone’s attention real quick. My aunt flipped out. There was glass everywhere, and I guess the figurine—it was shaped like a bird—was some kind of collector’s item, so she started screaming at me, asking what the hell was the matter with me. But I didn’t care, because Rachel didn’t go outside and get on her bike.”
    When Robin speaks, I can hear his smile. “That’s so … so
Alice
of you.” He holds me closer.
    “You’re right,” I say. “You really know me, don’t you?”
    He rests his head against mine. “I guess I do.”
    We sit in silence for a moment, and I can tell we’re both thinking about our fight from a couple of weeks ago. I was the one who started it. We’d been seeing each other for three months, but there was so much he wouldn’t tell me about himself. I still didn’t even know his last name. We were at his apartment one afternoon, and I started looking through his mail while he was in another room, trying to figure it out, but everything was addressed to
Current Resident
.
    When he confronted me, I got so angry—I was crying, begging him to tell me why he kept so many secrets. “How can you be my boyfriend if I don’t even know who you
are
?” I’d demanded. I was throwing the mail all over the room, making a huge mess.
    And then he said the most awful thing. At least, it seemed like the most awful thing at the time. “That’s the problem,Alice,” he told me. “I can’t be your boyfriend.” He wouldn’t say anything else, even though I begged him. I finally left; that was the last time I’d seen him until today.
    “So what happened?” he finally asks. “After you broke the figurine and your aunt went nuts, did you tell Rachel not to get on her bike?”
    I nod. “Yes. And by then I’d made such a scene that my