Decisions
 

     “Bye, Mommy! Have a nice time at work!” I yell to my mom as her car leaves the driveway.  
      After a delightful day at school, I enter the colorful, dimly lit living room, only to find my twin sister Hazel zip up the stairs two at a time. This is the second day she had done this, but before I had just assumed that she really had to go to the bathroom. Who knows? I start doing my math homework carefreely, with all my attention focused on the surface area of spheres.
     All of a sudden, random clicking noises fire up. Beep, boop, beep, boop. I just let it pass, even though I am rather skeptical to what it could be. Our house is rather old, so it possesses many odd imperfections that emit odd noises. However, even after an hour, the strange, sporadic noises blip on. That’s when I get interested. Maybe Hazel’s secretly talking to her imaginary friend through a secret language? Or possibly she’s just clicking her pencil while she’s reading? What if the house is getting run over by termites?
     I take off my slippers and silently tip-toe up the carpeted stairs to where my sensitive ears take me: my parents’ master bedroom, where there sits an old, musty computer that Hazel is staring groggily at. On the computer screen is the Google Plus page, full of useless yet entertaining posts. My eyes feel like bulging out of my head. Now, I finally understand what she has been up to: wasting her time on Google Plus.
     All I can think is, “I’m doomed, I’m doomed, I’m doomed.” Well, I know that it isn’t really me who’s doomed, but the fact that I am responsible for such an irresponsible, impetuous sister finally sunk in that very moment. I know Hazel wanted to be popular (she was popular in elementary school), but never did I guess that she would sacrifice all her time for it. I doubt that her online friends all really care for her, that there really is camaraderie among them. How different could I get from her?

     After a long day, I walk drowsily to bed, my teeth brushed, face washed, and hands dripping wet. The floor is cold beneath my barren feet, and the hallway smells of grass medicine, so I pinch my nose tightly. I lie sprawled on my bed in my comfortable pajamas, my arms and legs at odd angles. The house is ominously quiet, and the only sound to be heard is the rhythmic chirping of crickets outside.
     Inside my head, a secret debate is taking place, and so far it is nowhere close to coming to an end. One side is arguing that I let Hazel be herself. The other is emphatically asserting that I point her in a new direction. Gradually, my mind drifts away to other matters.  Maybe this is all just a phase, a path gone askew from the main road? I really care about Hazel; she really is a cool sister. I smile in reminiscence of the old days, when Hazel and I used to play dress-up with our mother’s thought-to-be-fashionable clothes and attempted to create hair-styles, but always failed. It’s different nowadays. Hazel’s basically the complete opposite of me now; we’ve become two different people.
     Gosh. I am so torn. For about ten minutes, I sit contemplating which to favor, until finally I reach a decision. I confidently resolve that I would let Hazel be who she wanted to be, even if I think she is wrong. I must accept and love her for her. There is a subtle moment where my inner conscience rocked in, demanding that I do the opposite. I brush it aside, afraid that it would lead to a permanent split in our sisterhood. I know Hazel. She gets really sensitive about this kind of stuff.

     Over time, I discover that Hazel is getting all her work done, but she has to stay up super late every night- due to her waste of time in the afternoon. Something else hits me. Hazel’s also been sort of ignoring Grace, Rebecca, and me- her real friends. I get a nagging feeling in my stomach telling me I should do something- anything- that could change this, but I already promised myself I wouldn’t- right? I decide to give Hazel just one more week. Then, if she persists with her intolerable ways, I’ll change her for the better; I swore to God. “I have to trust her,” I tell myself as I take a deep breath.

     After a rather interesting hands-on experiment in science, I amble out of class, with Victor right behind me.
     “Hey! Jasmine!” exclaims Victor abruptly.
     I cock my head slightly to the left, and reply “hey,” cheerfully back.
     “Your sister’s literally spamming Google Plus. Seriously. Could you just tell her to stop?  It’s getting super annoying…” commented Victor.
     I raise my eyebrows in surprise, give him a prim nod and smile, and walk away. Actually, I am going mad with worry. The brevity of my reactions were just an attempt at concealing the slew of sudden emotions overwhelming me. Hazel is really getting worked up, and I had to do something. I totally forget about the one week rule I had made up.

     I’m lying flat, alert, on my bed, with a dim light still illuminating Hazel’s face downstairs as she frantically works on her history project. I realize, at this rate, she’ll be sleeping at 12 every night! My heart’s pounding loud. My stomach starts aching like crazy, and I bend over in agony. My brain is sending me an urgent message: YOU MUST TAKE ACTION NOW. I can’t just let misconceptions of my twin sister form out of thin air. I try to think of everything possible that I could do, but all I come up with is reporting her to our mom. That option’s out, for sure- I can’t do that… I just can’t. If I do, my mom will just get super disappointed in me, and I hate being the victim of disappointment. That’s always Hazel, and I genuinely admire how she deals with it so calmly. I sit on my plushy bed for what seems like hours, but nothing comes to me. Finally, when I am on the verge of giving up, a switch flicks on. Why not just hide the internet from her? I know where she hides it. Without that little USB that enables her to go on social media, she’ll be powerless!

     Later that day, I sidle away from the master bedroom, my long black hair halfway covering my freckled face, the USB clenched so tightly in my hand my knuckles are white. As soon as I reach my room, I push aside some jackets and set the USB down carefully inside my closet. Just as I am closing the door to the closet, Hazel storms in, her arms crossed and her unwavering gaze planted squarely in my eyes.
     “Give. It. To. Me,” she murmurs, almost inaudibly.
     “No. I. Will. Not. Give. It. To. You.” I smile sweetly at her.
     She gives me a long, painful pinch on my left arm and sprints away to her room. She understands me well enough to know that I never get swayed on my decisions. No one can change my mind. Not even the president.

     The next day, sitting together at the behemoth dining table, Hazel and I do our homework silently, with only the ticking of the clock to be heard. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. 
     Abruptly, Hazel breaks the tedious rhythm. “Come on!  Just give it to meeee… I never did anything to you!” whines Hazel, her patchy face stained with tears.
     “No,” I reply sternly, without looking up.
     “Please?”
     “No.”
     “Why not?”
     “You don’t deserve it.” I walk away from the dining table, clinging my science textbook closely to my chest.
     WOW. There’s a very strong force inside her. Why in the world is she willing to spend all her life on social media? I just don’t get it. Ugh. Well, I guess I did the right thing. I hope. My mind drifts away to other matters, but I can’t help but feel accomplished in some little way- and for what? Preventing Hazel from something horrible? Yes, but this choice I made… I will never know if it was correct, if I should have the right to feel accomplished. There are many, many things in life in which I will never know the answer to-and this just so happened to be one of them. If only I could take a peek into the future… then making decisions wouldn’t be so difficult.
     All of a sudden I start smiling as big as the Mississippi River, and I can’t stop. Why? It is because all I can hear now is Hazel saying, “Thank you.”
     Maybe I do deserve the right to feel accomplished.