I sat there in my room, staring blankly at the wall, overlooking my favorite posters and photos of my friends and boyfriend. Yes, my boyfriend Jake, the quarterback of the school football team, very eye-catching and popular... Sometimes I thought he was too popular for his own good. Our relationship was suffering because of it. I didn't know if I could trust him anymore.

I waited for Megan to arrive at my place. We had to cram for our first exam of the school year, always the most difficult one to get through. I needed to get my rhythm back and find the courage to dive into boring textbooks.

I recalled how I had met Megan. It had been a couple of months before, three days after school had started. I was at my English class, when Mrs. Holmes was interrupted by a knock at the door. As though she was the shiest person on earth, Megan opened the door just enough to pop her head in and ask if she could join the class. With a curt nod, Mrs. Holmes invited her to sit down. Megan tried to explain the reason why she hadn't showed up earlier, but Mrs. Holmes was not interested. A crescendo of whispers in the room became louder and louder until Mrs. Holmes hit her writing desk, demanding silence. I hadn't paid much attention to the newcomer; at that time, to read an excerpt of a book I was supposed to have read at home seemed far more important than to look closer at a stranger. When Megan went past me, heading for her chair, I felt a jolt inside, my heart galloping like a wild horse...

"Megan Lockwood, you say?" Mrs Holmes asked.

"Yes," Megan said, facing our teacher.

There was a pause in Mrs. Holmes' voice but the obvious was there to be seen. "You look awfully like Ms. McCarthy... Are you two related?"

Our heads turned to each other. I saw surprise rippling on that face that looked so much like mine. I had definitely met my dead ringer. This could become dangerous, I figured; dead ringers were supposed to bring bad luck. Despite all that we soon became best friends. She had tastes and ideas about life very similar to mine. We found out we liked the same kind of music: U2, especially... Bono was the Voice and the Lyrics... "To die for..." Megan said at one point, smiling, showing her mischievous side.

We had once discussed the possibility we were sisters, twins... Megan had asked her parents if she had a sister she didn't know about. The answer had been a confused "no" followed by a categorical "of course not". She confessed that sometimes she felt lonely when she was younger. She wished she had a little sister to play with.

"Why not a little brother?" I asked, sitting up on the bed, staring at Megan's quiet beauty and the lightness of her hair - color and weight...

"I don't know," she said, looking down, her long hair cascading down her shoulders and full breasts. Then she looked up, her blue eyes locking onto mine. "A sister seemed more natural to me... Don't ask me why... I don't know. It's just how I felt."

"Maybe you're right."

"Why?"

"I have a little brother and we can hardly get along."

I woke up from my reverie. The door bell rang once and then twice. 'It must be Megan,' I thought. Megan was an impatient girl. She came from a big city and her big-city girl impudence was one of the reasons I found Megan so fun to be with.

We greeted each other when I opened the door. Megan was upset... Aggression was in the air, that much I could feel, but I hesitated about raising the subject. Although we were best friends we were still somewhat strangers to each other.

We opened our books, notes, and sketchpads... and studied. Hard. I'd look up and watch Megan covertly, but my friend would be too concentrated to notice. I would experience urges to ask her what was on her mind, but she would keep her silence. I knew how hateful it could get if someone pressed for something when I wasn't ready for it. Jake, for one... When I had more or less given up, Megan closed her books and sighed.

"Gonna stop. Too tired to go on..." Without putting a hand in front of her mouth, Megan yawned and then added, "Guess I'm not sleeping enough. But I won't bother you. Just go on. I'll go downstairs and fetch a glass of water. Wanna some?"

I shook my head. Once Megan gone, I could not concentrate anymore. The printed pages went blank... I felt so strange... Megan had such a strange effect on me. Every time Megan had to leave I felt an immense emptiness, as though half of my soul had gone away with her.

I jumped out of my bed. There was no point in staying there and feel guilty about it. We would have three more days to cram... I dashed down the stairs and went over to the living room. Megan sat on the love seat, staring absentmindedly at the wall. A creepy feeling of deja vu came over me. Not only she really looked like me but also she seemed to have a couple of behavorial traits that I recognized just too well. A shiver shot up my spine. This was getting eerie.

I sat next to Megan.

"Are you ok?" Megan didn't look at me. Her thoughts were definitely miles away.

"I guess."

It was frustrating not to be able to ask her what was going on... And then as if Megan had read my mind, she asked, "Did you ever get so mad at your folks you wished they were not your parents anymore... ?"

"What are you getting at?"

"My dad wants to forbid me from seeing Jason... He says he's no good, like every goddam boyfriend I introduced to them."

"And Jason, what does he say about it?"

"He doesn't know."

Tears were welling up in Megan's eyes. I reached out for a tissue and handed it over to her. She smiled, her mouth drawn into a whispered 'thank-you', her hand touching my cheek ever so lightly. For a moment we sat there, staring at each other, until Megan leant forward and kissed me on the lips. It was so deliciously sweet and tender and soft... which made me groggy, as though I had gulped down half a bottle of Jack Daniels. That kiss hadn't taken me by surprise. I had once dreamt about it. We were at a party, wearing long white wedding dresses - both of us; Megan was my bride and she kissed me, a passionate kiss, very much like that first kiss...

We kissed further, holding each other close. Explanatory words weren't necessary. The touch of wet, sensual, soft lips was all we wanted...

Back at school we wouldn't talk about it. It was taboo, it seemed. It had happened... No point in crying for more. However, when we were among friends Megan would play a little game with me, brushing her leg against mine, her hand falling "accidentally" on my lap, grazing my breasts... I wished she stopped that game. It got me worked up for nothing. Fingering myself would be an outlet but for how long? Yes, because Megan would ignore me when we were alone...

Why girls were so difficult to read?... I would immediately understand what Jake meant or was planning to... But with Megan... sigh... it was hopeless.

A month later Megan came over to my place, almost breathless, her eyes red, her slender body trembling from the cold... It was almost Christmas, and the snow wouldn't stop falling, delighting children and parents alike. I dragged her to my room before asking what the hell had happened.

"Just sit down, Julie... You're not going to believe this... My mom... she told me everything... She... Oh God, how can I explain this?"

"Just calm down." I wanted to throw my hands around that desperate girl. I wanted to assuage her pain, whatever that was. I began to hate Megan's parents; they seemed so cruel and uncaring. "I'll get you a glass of water."

"No, I don't want to. Just listen, because if I don't tell you now I probably never will... I- I'm your sister. We are twins... Not identical, but we are twins..."

Shocked at first, and reasoning a few seconds later, I stated, "Megan that's not possible, and you know that. Our birthdays don't even coincide."

"I was born on the same day as you. My mom... *Our* mom... showed me my birth certificate and yours... You were adopted. She was only sixteen when she got pregnant... She could only keep one of us."

"You're lying, Megan. I don't believe a word of it."

"Why not?" It was the first time Megan really looked hurt if not outright furious; her hands on her hips, probably ready to strike.

"Because you've got a twisted sense of humor or just want to frustrate me even more with one of your little games."

"What games?"

"Getting me excited, playing the temptress with me, seducing me with those Mata Hari looks and then leave me out in the cold... Those are the games you play." I didn't mention how often Megan talked about wanting a sister... That must be wishful thinking. Incestuous wishful thinking, for that matter.

Megan smiled a twisted smile and came closer. Megan hugged me, hushing me, lovingly, tenderly. Megan's red eyes gazed at me, scaring me somehow. What the hell did Megan want from me? I couldn't understand... And this story of us being sisters didn't make any sense, nor the fact that Megan was kissing me again, this time with her mouth open, her tongue searching mine, her lips thirsty for kisses. Slowly Megan's lips went down my neck, sending thrills of pleasure up my spine. Megan's breathing speeding up... I couldn't stand it anymore.

"Stop. STOP."

"What?"

"How can you say we're sisters and the next minute you start kissing me like that?"

"I didn't think about it. I didn't plan this, if it is what you're thinking."

"Ok. Just think about it... before we start something for the wrong reasons."

Utter fear set in. I began to avoid her and before long she understood the hints I was handing out. Her angry staring couldn't hurt me more, but I figured it was better that way - for both of us. I couldn't sleep at night, though. I got mad at her, because of her mind games... I thought I was going crazy. Doubts became stronger and stronger... Suppose she was not lying... Suppose she was saying the truth... Could she be my sister, my twin sister? Mom and Dad had lied to me all these years, omitting the fact I was adopted??? So many times I had teased Jimmy that he couldn't possibly be my brother... We were so different, in everything! He had brown eyes and dark hair, whereas I had blue eyes and light blond hair. Besides, his skin tanned one hundred times faster than mine - much to my envy, I must add. He hated Bono... "He sings like a girl," he'd say, punching on my stomach. "Sepultura and Metallica are *the* stuff, yeah!!!" Talking about Beavis and Butthead...

I went out with Jake more often and tried to concentrate on my studies. Lucy was still a little hurt because I had more or less dumped her for Megan. I had tried to convince her that was absolutely not true; deep down I knew she was right, though. Megan was so magnetic and beautiful, with her flowing shiny blond hair, her easy smile with two dimples to match, her shapely long legs, her prominent breasts, her sharpness, her outspoken way of being... Half of the male population of our school were in love with her... The teachers loved her, and word spread that Jason had been voted the luckiest guy around. Sometimes I'd overhear a few derisive comments about her, how smug and unfriendly Megan Lockwood was... It was the price of popularity, I decided. I had heard the same kind of criticism when I started dating Jake and made the cheerleader squad. The green-eyed monster lurks everywhere...

Megan and I didn't speak to each other until a few days before Spring Break. Megan had cut the cheerleader trials as well. She was throwing a party at her house to celebrate her last success. It was a party I had to go to... Cheerleaders had to stick together. The bending of that rule could cost me my spot in the squad.

In a way I was happy I had an excuse to see her house, at last. When I got there I caught a glimpse of her mom and dad but they were gone before I could see their faces. I was somewhat curious about my supposedly biological mother. The guts to confront Dad and Mom with Megan's claims had subsided with time; I just could picture the smirk in Jimmy's face if he learned about it. He'd probably become the happiest little jerk on Earth.

Megan, as usual, was the center of the party. She was wearing her cheerleader outfit when our eyes met and I felt again that jolt in my heart.

"Hi," she said, her smile vanishing from her lovely mouth, becoming serious, her eyes gaining the usual intensity when we were around each other.

"Hi," I replied.

Those were the only words we exchanged for a long while that evening. Most of the time I spoke with Martha, our head cheerleader, and Jill, a very good friend of mine. All of a sudden someone had to refer to how much Megan and I resembled each other.

"If I didn't know better I'd think you were sisters."

"We're not," I snapped. As soon as I said that, Megan got up to her feet and stormed out of the room. Stupefaction was visible in every face. I did my best to cover up my anger and disappointment. I had hoped she'd long forgotten her obsession about us being sisters. After all I was wrong.

Martha stared at me questioningly. I replied with a shrug. She said, "Maybe I should talk to her..."

"No," I heard myself say. "I'll talk to her." I was afraid of what Megan might say if she was upset. Probably she'd blurt everything out to Martha and I definitely wanted to prevent it at all costs. We had kissed... and we were sisters... according to Megan... That would sound terribly wrong.

I climbed up the stairs and knocked at her door. The door was open. I walked in the room without waiting for an answer. It took time before I could make out where she was. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring into space again. Realizing I was in her room, she switched the bedside lamp on.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm worried about you."

"Since when?"

"Since you walked away like that and left all your guests wondering what the hell's gotten into you."

"Afraid of the gossip mongers?"

"Frankly, yes. You know how mean people can get if-"

"If I spill my guts, right?"

"Yes."

"Not to worry. I won't. I wouldn't squeal on my own sister."

"Would you stop that? I'm NOT your sister."

"Yes, you are and I can prove it. If Mom were here she'd tell you that herself..."

"Why doesn't she?"

"I told her you weren't ready for it, yet."

A long silence followed, the ticking of her old fashioned alarm clock was the only sound to be heard, apart from our breathing.

"Come here," she said, with sadness in her eyes. I did what I was told. How could I not? Who would refuse anything to a girl like Megan Lockwood? She made me sit next to her, her arm locking mine, as if she was afraid I was going to spring up and leave that room of hers. "Look at me," she commanded, her lithe fingers on my kin turning my face to hers. "God, you're so beautiful."

"Megan..." It was a protest, a weak one by the way, which died in her mouth. We kissed again, the same overwhelming feeling of belonging and craziness rushing over me. What were we doing? What the hell were we doing??? I let her kiss me, though. She made me roll over in bed and put the weight of her beautiful body on mine, so that I couldn't escape. We kissed and kissed... her soft lips on mine, tasting so sweet... Her endless tenderness was driving me crazy and for the first time I let myself go. She was in control... She wasn't forcing me into anything but knowing that she was calling the shots lessened the guilt... She was so passionate, her hands brushing over my breasts, her mouth licking my ears and going down my neck, licking me... That wet feeling made me shiver... No boyfriend had made me feel like that - ever. Soon lust took over and my platonic admiration for her turned into sexual desire... I encircled her waist and opened my legs to allow her thigh come in between and against my crotch... I was getting wet... and wanted some contact down there...