Free Thumped by Megan McCafferty

just said, you could deliver any day now. . . .”
    Harmony yawns, grabbing at the weighty fabric of her maternity gown. “Right now I need to get out of this dress and get some rest.”
    I pull at the fabric of my copycat version of her same dress. “Me too,” I say, now yawning also. “I’ll bring you a change of clothes and everything you need.”
    Harmony purses her lips.
    “What?” I ask.
    “No one person can provide everything I need,” she says with a sad smile.
    “Then it’s a good thing we’re all in this together.”
    Harmony yawns again. “We’ll work it out tomorrow.”
    I don’t like the idea of another day going by without a plan. But Harmony does seem too weary to think straight.
    “Jondoe. Ram. The twins. Everything.” She presses her palms together. “I promise.”
    I want to believe her more than I actually do.

harmony
     
     
    I’M MAKING IMPOSSIBLE PROMISES TO MY SISTER WHEN—OH my grace—I feel it.
    I feel God laying a message in my heart. I’m warm all over, as if a sunbeam has passed over me, though it’s as black as soot outside. This is the last time it will be like this between Melody and me. Good, bad, a little bit of both . . . change is coming.
    The twins thump my belly from the inside. They must feel it too.
    I take my sister’s hands in mine. She looks startled at first because neither of us are the touchy-feely type. After countless hours at work in the fields and in the barns, my hands will always be rougher than hers. It’s one of the few differences in appearance that the press loves to point out about us. I also have freckles smattered across my nose. And until very recently, the braid I’d been growing since the day we were born.
    Melody’s face relaxes and a look crosses her face that resembles something like relief.
    “Love you,” I say, squeezing her smooth, uncalloused fingers.
    “Love you too,” she says, squeezing back.
    This is the first time we’ve ever said those words to each other. We’ve felt it but have never said it. Melody has kept her feelings to herself because she’s not the emotional type. And I’ve kept my feelings to myself because I guess there’s still part of me that believes my “godfreakiness” could scare her away. It’s actually the first time I’ve ever said those words out loud to anyone, though I’ve imagined saying them many, many times to someone else . . . and with an entirely different meaning altogether.
    I watch Melody as she walks down the hall and pauses at Jondoe’s door. She raps a knuckle on the wood twice before entering. She’s probably telling him to leave me alone.
    How strange it is, how not even a year ago my sister didn’t exist to me.
    Neither did Jondoe.
    Nor the twins.
    The Bible says that nothing on earth remains the same, only God is unchanging. And at this point in time, that’s one verse I’m still inclined to believe.

melody
     
     
    OH, WHAT A SURPRISE. JONDOE IS BEING MELODRAMATIC.
    He’s lying on the bed on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling. He’s still wearing the fake beard and suit, but the Goodside hat rests on his chest, rising and falling with his every breath.
    “Do. Not. Bother. Her. Tonight.”
    He closes his eyes. Says nothing.
    “Did you hear me, Jondoe? I mean it! She’s fragile right now.”
    Jondoe sits up suddenly, eyes ablaze. “What about me?”
    Gah. He can be so starcissistic sometimes.
    “What about you? Not everything is about you.”
    He shakes his head. “That’s not what I mean! Why am I not allowed to be fragile in this situation? I have feelings too! I’m a whole person! I’m not just the sum of my private parts!”
    This gives me pause. I had never really considered the effects of professional Sperming on Jondoe’s psyche. What teenage guy would turn down the opportunity to get paid to get laid? For all his heartbroken histrionics, I admit that Jondoe’s reputation has made it very hard for me to totally accept his pure