Half of Chapter 1 of "Untitled"

  Chapter 1: The Day Before Camp

	“Where are my shin pads?” I hollered out of my bedroom door. 

“Sister dearest?” a sleepy, hesitant voice questioned.



“What do you want Adam?” I snapped back, throwing tampons and bug repellent in my bag.



“Can you please SHUT UP?” he exclaimed, “Honestly honey, I know you’re excited about camp and all, but I need my sleep and your method 



of expressing your giddiness is depriving me of hard-earned rest!” Shouting insults back and forth the hallway, both stopped to acknowledge 



a third voice that had joined the fray. “Adam? Addie? Have you packed all of your things?” a timid voice asked earnestly.



“Mom, I can’t find my shin pads; do you know where they are?” I cried in frustration.



“Have you even looked for them?” she replied. Silence followed. “Adelaide Krystal Davies, maybe if you just cleaned that pig-sty of a room, you



 would be able to find them. You should follow your brother’s example; he tidies his room daily and actually cares about its hygiene.” I rolled my 



eyes in response. 

Ever since we were little, my twin brother and I have been





 compared to each other for every little thing. He’s stronger, I’m faster. By far, he has better “fashion sense” than me, even though I’m the girl; 



but I’m smarter. As twins, (obviously) we look scarily alike (and it’s not like my mom’s urge to give us extremely similar names helped get us 



mixed up even more). We both have the tall builds and long eyelashes from our Italian dad, and the slimness, silky black hair, smooth skin and 



exotic look from our Japanese mom. It all adds up to the pair of us coming across as “pretty”. Luckily, I have a flat chest which repels 



unwanted admirers, unlike Adam, who has the misfortune of having creepy stalkers. 



	I don’t think there is anything more annoying than the swooning girls in my class, dreaming and hoping that Adam just might ask them 



out. He’s an artistic genius, captain of the basketball team, and is very spunky and sweet. Not to mention sensitive. What more is there to ask 



for in a guy? Well nothing, besides the fact that he’s gay. Shocked? I wasn’t. 



	After he plucked up the courage inside that 5”10, 160 pounds (mostly muscle) body of his, he confessed to my parents and me that his 

sexual orientation was atypical. I don’t care if he’s gay or not. Adam Kaleb Davies is my brother, my twin, and I doubt anything could ever 



stop me from loving him.My parents were cool with it too. My dad didn’t freak out (but that’s probably because he had already given Adam well-



deserved respect between father and son, recognizing him as a “man” when he became captain last year) and my mom cried, hugged him and 



told him through her sobs that she loves him no matter what, whether he’s attracted to either men or women.



	With Adam being an artistic prodigy, keeping up with him was quite hard. At the age of 15, his amazing sketches have got him a full-



scholarship for the FIDM (Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandise) of Los Angeles. It’s easy to see that he got the fashionista genes from my 



mom. Sadly, I’ve had to experience his critiques on my style ever since I was allowed to pick my own clothes. You see, my summer uniform 



consists of a loosely-fitted graphic tee, basketball short and running shoes. “Addie, you’ve got a beautiful figure; show it off with tighter shirts 



and fitted jeans” or “How could you wear a bright red shirt with dark red shorts? You look like a Christmas tree! Do not clash your colors!”, etc.



Rewinding to the subject of Adam’s hard competition for mom and dad’s attention; I got dad’s intellect. I have been on the honour roll for 



every single term and straight A+’s to boot. I guess one could say that I am a jock/nerd. Everyone says that I own a personality that has 



considerable similarities to the average tomboy. Primarily, sports are my life. I can’t live without the rush of wind against my sweating face as I 



cross the finish line, the drive of a kick executed onto the surface of a black and white ball. 



Looking around my room, I spotted my missing shin pads hiding underneath a load of dirty laundry. On my bed lay a duffle bag filled with 



clothes. I placed them between my water bottle and cleats, inside a 

sports bag lying on the floor. I looked through both bags, checking to see 



if I was missing anything. Soccer ball, spikes (special shoes for track), soccer cleats, water bottle, towel, deodorant, sunscreen, goggles, shin 



pads. Everything was there, in its place. 

After climbing into bed, I turned off my lamp and within seconds of 

laying my head on my pillow, I drifted into sleep.