The Midnight Twins by Jacquelyn Mitchard Page B

never forgive . . . myself. I shouldn’t have gone. It was so selfish. . . .” Meredith waved that away, gently shaking her head and pointing at her nose. Campbell recognized the ancient gesture that, in the family, meant “ pay attention !” Merry looked hard at her mother, unblinking, and touched her heart. Misunderstanding, Campbell broke into tears and said, “I love you, too.” Meredith tapped her heart again, more urgently. Beneath the huge mitt of her bandages, she felt the reprimand of the pain.
    She turned her head away from Campbell.
    In her own room, Mallory lay back, exhausted and frustrated.
    Tim went on, “Honey, don’t get upset. You’re going to be good as new. . . .” Struggling, Mally pointed at her head. Tim tried to interpret what she was saying “Think? How did it happen?” Mally put up two fingers, pointed to her right hand, and shrugged elaborately. Right-handed , she tried to tell her father, right-handed . She was so used to communicating without so much effort! “Honey, it wasn’t the fireworks. We don’t know who set off the fireworks. Maybe it was the same person who set the fire, maybe it was someone different. What I mean is, it was set in a different way. Some kid threw a gasoline bomb, or whatever, on the roof—gasoline in a Coke bottle for all we know. There was glass up there. God only knows why. Kevin never met a stranger in his life.”
    In the next room, Merry gathered her strength and her bandaged paw, then pointed to her left hand. Left-handed, Mom , she tried to tell Campbell. Left-handed . She had to know, and before she got too sleepy.
    In answer, her mother said, “They don’t know who did it. It blew up. They assume a car full of drunk kids . . .”
    Meredith croaked.
    “Don’t talk,” Campbell soothed her. “Shush now.”
    “Mally . . .”
    “I’m sorry. I just assumed you two . . . you know. Could hear, like always. Your sister is fine. She inhaled smoke, but she’ll be fine,” Campbell assured her. Campbell wanted to kick herself. More than Tim did, she understood about the tin-can telephone that joined her daughters. “You saved her life, darling. You pulled her out onto the back porch.” Campbell began to cry, fresh unchoked rivulets of tears.
    Next door, Mallory first tapped, then pounded on her chest. Tim nodded and said, “Yes, you inhaled smoke.” Mally made her eyes go wide and shook her head violently. Tim reached under the clear tent and gently held Mallory’s shoulders down against the sheets. “Look, Mallory. You need to be quiet now, honey.” Mallory pounded her small chest more frantically. “What?” Tim asked. “Don’t get hysterical . . . I’ll get paper.” He gave Mallory a pencil and a sheet ripped from the telephone book. Mally began to write. Tim ran for Campbell.
    “Oh, my baby!” Campbell cried, diving, oblivious of the protocols, into the tent. “We were so scared you wouldn’t wake up. Merry was sedated, but you . . . you just wouldn’t wake up!” Campbell’s face was smeared with cold tears and spent mascara. She turned to her husband. “You did tell her that Meredith is okay? I don’t think they can hear each other.”
    “What?” Tim asked. “Hear each other? They can’t even talk, Cam.”
    Campbell ignored him.
    “You know Merry is okay, don’t you?” Campbell asked Mallory. Mallory shook her head.
    Tim put his hand over his eyes.
    “Your sister is fine,” he said. “That’s what she meant, pounding on her chest. Me. She was saying ‘me.’ She meant ‘my twin.’ ” Finally . Dad was great, but so thick sometimes.
    “Meredith pulled you out of the fire,” Campbell said. “You were this close to the burning couch, and the couch and curtains were an inferno. She . . . does have a bad burn on one of her palms.” Mallory cringed. “But she’ll heal. It’s not nearly as bad as it could have been.”
    Mallory fell back, spent, and despite the flicker of guilt, was soon asleep. The paper she