Kelly is much like other seniors in high school. She sings in the choir, loves her friends and is especially close to her twin brother Kevin. With them being born only seconds apart from each other she recounts the joy of having a twin and agrees that twins have a connection that is nothing like another other relationship. They can finish each other’s sentences, feel the other’s pain and live life really feeling that they are sharing it all with someone else. As Kelly looks into the mirror at her reflection, she tries to see how she could have not known what was about to take place. Just another normal day: Kevin took forever getting in the car to go to school, sang 80’s songs all the way to school, made smart comments as we said goodbye to each other. A normal day…until it wasn’t. When the shooting happened, Kelly ran like everyone else did. She hid in my car waiting for her brother to come and he never did. It wasn’t until she began to walk back into the school that someone tells her that her brother was the shooter. How could she have not known? He wasn’t just her brother, but he was her twin. She continues to ask these questions now, and possibly for the rest of her life.
Looking Back at Me
I’ve never looked at myself in the mirror as much as I do now. I know that sounds crazy because I’m a teenage girl and typically most girls my age live in front of a mirror. But all of that is because of vanity and if there’s one thing that I have lost in my life in light of the recent events it’s vanity. I am looking in the mirror for a totally different reason. I guess you could say I’m searching, looking for something that I lost and trying to figure out exactly how I got to this moment in time. I just keep looking and hoping that if I could see under my skin with a microscope that is 10,000 times stronger than anything that’s even been created so that the molecules with in my blood can look at me and just sing. I’m a twin. Alike in every way except for his name is Kevin and my name is Kelly. It’s funny, my mom and dad would always tell us that giving us our names was the most difficult thing they ever had to do. Figuring out a name that worked for a girl and something close for a boy. We would always laugh because my brother and I always thought, “It’s not that difficult mom and dad you could name is Beth and Jason does it really matter?” But we never said that to them, we always just looked at each other and laughed.