Under the Peach Tree by Charlay Marie Page B

into the living room, thinking about John and his good heart, and was taken aback in surprise. John stood a few feet away with a poorly decorated birthday cake in his hand that said SWEET 16. Faith was standing beside him.
    â€œHappy birthday, Hope!” the both of them screamed.
    Tears instantly poured from my eyes. It was the first time someone had ever baked me a cake. Faith ran up to me, wrapping her arms around me. “John got us both presents!” My heart skipped as I glanced at the two long identical bags sitting against the couch. Momma was nowhere to be seen. “I was waiting for you to wake up so that we can open them!”
    John set the cake down on the table next to Faith’s cake. He had baked us both our own cakes. I wanted to break down in happiness. I wasn’t used to someone showing me so much affection. I walked over to the gift with my name on it. Faith stood in front of her own, with an eager expression.
    â€œGo ahead.” John smiled.
    I took no time ripping my present free from the bag until it was fully revealed. My eyes shined in wonder as I looked down at the most beautiful gown I’d ever seen. It was far more beautiful than anything Faith had ever worn.
    It was a strapless, knee-length beautiful royal-blue dress with a big, frilly bow that tied around the waist. The bottom half of the dress was a tutu that ruffled intricately. Next to the dress was a box I hadn’t noticed that had silver heels detailed with diamonds running along the ankle. Faith’s dress was long and pink, much like the one I’d stolen from her, and equally as beautiful.
    I turned to John, speechless. How could I thank him? What should a person so far in debt to someone’s kindness say? John smiled and nodded. He could see the gratefulness in my eyes. I didn’t need to say a thing. I walked up and wrapped my arms around him and cried. I felt Faith behind me as she wrapped her arms around the both of us. All too soon, John let go and held my chin up.
    â€œHope, I want to talk to you in private.”
    â€œOkay,” I said, allowing him to guide me away from Faith and outside.
    We sat out on the porch, staring at the beautiful South Carolina scenery. A weeping willow tree that sat in our yard was the best part about our land. Its branches hung so low, so sadly, I’d imagine that it wept for a love unrequited, much like my love for Momma. And I too hung low, saddened by events out of my control, burdened by the expectation to be my sister.
    â€œHope,” John started, but then he stopped. He didn’t know how to address what I knew that he’d been dying to ask ever since he saw how Momma beat me last night. “Why?”
    â€œI did it because I wanted to be free, for once. I wanted to be normal and go to parties and kick it with people who didn’t know me for being the wrong twin.”
    â€œThat’s not what I meant,” he said. “Why does your mom do this to you?”
    It’s something I thought about my whole life but I had never expected anyone to ask me. “I think it’s because Momma hates me. She had to raise two kids alone with no help. She always said she wished it was only one of us.”
    He took in my answer and sat silently for a while. Both of us, just staring out at the morning view. “Why don’t you go to church with your sister?”
    â€œBecause Momma won’t let me go. I don’t care anymore though, not anymore.” It was a lie. I still cared, very much. “Plus Grandma didn’t want to hassle around two kids at the same time. Momma said when I was little I was bad, couldn’t sit still, and would catch fits. Grandma ain’t want no church folk to see that.”
    He nodded but his eyebrows were set. It was obvious he didn’t agree with them. “How does your mom mistreating you make you feel?”
    â€œI guess it makes me feel bad but I understand why she does some of it. She