To every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. That is Sir Isaac Newton’s third law of motion. I read about it during the school holidays. My name is Georgia White and I was born on 15th April, 1998, at the very same moment, in the very same hospital, as a boy called George Brown.
George Brown is my evil twin.
George lives in the house opposite my house, sits at the desk opposite me in school. It is obvious that George Brown exists as an equal and opposite reaction to me. For example, I have long shiny blonde hair; George has wild, curly dark hair. I am tall; George is short. I am quiet and friendly; George is loud and rude. I have a pet dog; George has a pet cat. I live with my dad and sister; George lives with his mum and brother. If Sir Isaac Newton hadn’t been dead for nearly three hundred years he could tell you all about it. He would have no trouble at all explaining why George Brown is my worst nightmare.
I don’t like George Brown and George Brown doesn’t like me. When we walk home from school we walk on opposite sides of the road. We try to keep away from each other as much as possible, or at least I do all of the time, and George does most of the time, unless he is trying to show off to his friends by flicking chewing gum into my hair, or putting dead lizards in my lunch box.
So you can just imagine how upset I was when my dad told me that he’d invited George’s mum and the boys over for a barbeque. Tonight. Tonight George Brown is coming over to my house. I will say I’m sick, which will be true, because the thought of George Brown stepping into my house will definitely make me feel sick.
Because it has all become clear. The penny has dropped, as my mum used to say. My dad likes George’s mum. Arrrrrgh! He wasn’t just helping her fix her lawnmower because he is a good neighbour. She wasn’t just offering him a glass of beer to say thank you. Oh, no, they were both doing these things because they wanted an excuse to hang out together like teenagers. Because they wanted an excuse to destroy my life!
And suddenly, I can see myself at the wedding… and there is George all dressed up in a suit with his wild bushy hair looking like it hasn’t been brushed for a month. There is my dad and his mum all lovey-dovey up at the altar and there is me being sick all over the floor of the church because it is the very worst day of my life. George Brown is my stepbrother! My life is over. My world has come to an end. A stinky, noisy end.
I can’t let it happen. I won’t let it happen. I’m thinking this as George and his mother and little brother arrive at the front door. George doesn’t look at all happy to be here which is good. We ignore each other. My dad and his mum do not ignore each other, though. They laugh and giggle and play with their hair which people do when they like each other. It is embarrassing. Old people should know better. George’s mum has brought over the biggest salad, enough to feed the whole street. She is just showing off to my dad. My dad has opened a bottle of wine even though he never drinks wine. He is also showing off. I want to crawl into a hole in the ground and die!
‘So, Georgia, why don’t you take George upstairs and play a game on the new PlayStation until the sausages are ready?’ Why don’t I, Dad? Because he is disgusting, Dad, that’s why. Because he will be two feet away from my bedroom and I know there’s a wall in-between, but I don’t care and you don’t care either, about me or anyone except yourself and someone who will never ever be my mother. Never!
But I can’t say any of this out loud so instead I just burst into tears and run up to my bedroom and hide, sobbing great big wet embarrassing tears into my pillow. George Brown is downstairs and I am upstairs bawling. Obviously, I didn’t need to wait for the wedding day for my life to be over. It’s over now.
I hear my dad walking up the stairs and scream at him to go away. I want my mum back. And desperately wanting something you will never, ever be able to have again is the hardest, most horrible, thing in the whole world. I miss my mum so much.
I’m blowing my nose when I hear a knock on the door. ‘The sausages are almost ready.’ It’s George. My dad sent George up to get me! Unbelievable. I’m not leaving my bedroom. Not ever again. I can’t imagine ever doing anything again. Not eating sausages, not going to school, and certainly not opening the door of my bedroom to see George Brown standing there grinning his stupid grin and planning what he’s going to tell all his revolting friends.
I don’t open the door but George does. He just stands there and he’s not laughing at me. ‘I’m going to have a game on your PlayStation, if that’s okay. Do you want to play?’
And suddenly, I’m remembering that George’s dad died too. He had a heart-attack. George walks over to the PlayStation and turns on the TV. He’s already working the controls when he calls out, ‘It’s okay, I know what to do. I’ve got a plan to make sure you will never be my stepsister, Miss Princess Perfect Goody Two-Shoes Georgia White.’
I’m thinking that if it has anything to do with chewing gum or dead lizards it will probably work.