Michel Logan


I never wanted to move here. 

Mom and dad were always so attentive of my twin brother's needs that they hardly ever listened to either me or our sister Karly. But then, of course, we were the "other" siblings. We didn't walk around onset of some big Hollywood film looking all mysteriously disturbed by the ravaging teenage girls. 

My name's Michel Logan, back home in California people called me Mic. My friends all boycotted my brother's films and smoked cigarettes behind the bleachers on the football field. I was the twin that some would call evil back home. I would have been, if I had been given the chance, voted most likely to get arrested after I graduated in the yearbook, while my brother Zack would have been voted most likely to win an Oscar. But he would have reminded you that he almost did once for his role in one of the greatest action films of all time, or so they say, back when we were nine. 

This mess up in my life began last Monday when Zack decided to take a break from his acting career. 

"I want to be anonymous." He'd simply stated while chewing on some mashed potatoes.

Karly and I had exchanged looks and had quickly looked back down at our plates. Zack never missed our little moments of agreement.

"What? I'm young," he'd started to explain. "I have just as much a right to be anonymous as the next Regular Joe!"

"But see," I'd told him without looking up from my plate of broccoli, mashed potatoes, and chicken, "you're not a Regular Joe. You don't do your own laundry, you have an agent, and you were name second sexiest teen in the business." Karly laughed while I mimicked a fan's squeal of excitement.

"Michel, please." My father had said gruffly over his on plate. "I like that idea Zachary, I think your mother and I would agree that it all has perhaps gotten out of hand."

"Dad," Karly had finally added in, "with all due respect, this got way out of hand about a year after the three of us were born."

Karly had always been the logical one of us three. When mom had given birth to triplets, Karly had been the one that had almost died, but through miracles she had lived.

"And besides, Zack may be tired of his hobby--"

"It is not a hobby, it is a career Karly!" Zack had interrupted like always when she used such easy phrases with his life's choice. 

"--but this is our home, not just the house of the next Drew Barrymore." 

I'd coughed to hide my laugh.

Mom had then given me a warning look, "Okay, the two of you need to be a little more supportive, this career is draining."

"Exactly." Zack had added.

"Then it is settled, we'll start looking for a place tomorrow." Dad had resolved. "Where were you thinking Zachary?"

Zack had put on his thinking face that his acting coach had taught him. "Toronto should be far away enough."

"Toronto?!" Karly and I had shouted at the same time.

"Yep," Zack had smirked then, "Toronto."

So now I stood in front of our new house, slightly larger than our old one. In typical Logan family fashion it was nearly midnight and we weren't unpacked yet. I wondered how long the paps would take to find us here. 

I felt everyone rushing past me but I stayed silent in my own world looking at my conversed feet. The humidity in the late summer night was uncomfortable and unfamiliar. The disturbance of gravel being roughly stepped on from our neighbor's front yard awakened me from my stance and I looked up. A short brunette was walking up the driveway towards her house and I caught her staring at me. I was used to this because of who my identical brother was, but the way she was staring disconcerted me. 

She walked slightly hunched, her back a witness to a life full of shyness, and her eyes, I could see even from here, were a startling blue. She was pretty, but not your average pretty. Not a cheerleader and not a nerdy pretty, just a natural pretty girl who didn't know how good she looked.

I saw the porch's landing before she did and I smirked at her right before she fell forward, flat on her face.

The End

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