Mind Games (3 page)

As I formulated a plan for the design of our experiment, I decided to approach Kathleen and Claire for any recollections of ESP-type phenomena that they might have experienced. My question was answered immediately and enthusiastically by Kathleen, who recounted an incident in kindergarten in which she was crushed because she was denied access to someone's hair for sniffing purposes.
⁷
Claire, knowing instinctively that Kathleen was upset, came hurrying from another classroom to comfort her twin. That Claire may have heard her bloodcurdling shriek did not, apparently, enter into Kathleen's consideration.
⁸

Kathleen also mentioned various incidents involving a pig from her family's small farm, a snake, and someone named Sunshine.
⁹
My suggestion of an experiment to verify Kathleen's claims was vetoed, leading me to further doubt the reliability of her report. That is just as well, because such an experiment would be nightmarish. I am allergic to furry animals, I would find it difficult to obtain a live pig, and the snake is not available for testing, as it was inadvertently murdered by Kathleen.
¹⁰

Marina subsequently contributed a tale about Mr. Ennis
and wine (?), which I was unable to comprehend due to her poor command of the English language and pronunciation thereof. Claire boasted of an astounding history of success at Pictionary when partnered with Ji, who had been known to guess the subject of a drawing before Claire even put her pen to paper. During this conversation, Brandon hastily exited the room for unknown reasons. Mr. Ennis followed him, and neither returned for the remainder of the class period. Therefore, I was unable to obtain their input.

The only premonition I personally have ever had
¹¹
was that my parents would get a divorce. That had nothing to do with psychic phenomena and everything to do with life experience—ten years' worth.

Given little material to work with from my research partners, I thus began researching experimental techniques so that we might improve upon the findings of our hapless parapsychology researchers.

At this time, Mr. Ennis requested documentation of the progress made in our research pursuits. As none had yet occurred, he suggested we might wish to proceed in a speedier fashion.

He then asked to see a report from each of us before the end of October.

Since I was the only individual actually working on the project at this time, I asked Mr. Ennis whether I could pursue my Hubble investigation instead. He encouraged me to pursue any topic I wished; however, he made it clear that our group experiment must be complete before he would allow me to enter an individual project in the science fair under his sponsorship.

As my fellow group members failed to grasp the exciting possibilities of the Hubble constant, I realized it was incumbent on me to assume a leadership role and prod them into some sort of action. In an attempt to interest them in the investigation—any investigation—I suggested the Paranormal Pursuits projects to be found throughout this document.

As we devised ideas for our individual Paranormal Pursuits, I also enlisted help from the group in collecting materials for our legitimate parapsychology experiment. The complete list turned out to be as follows:

M
ATERIALS

1) One black pen (which will not bleed)
2) 5" X 7" index cards (25)
3) One shoebox
4) One pair of dice
5) One plastic cup

To this, we later added:

6) One dictionary
7) Drawing paper
8) Lottery tickets

Traditional ESP testing cards (aka Zener cards) were made using the black pen and index cards. Claire, known since first grade for her neatness, made five of each of the following designs: plus,
circle, box, star,
and
wavy lines
(see cards, display table).

From here, we embarked on our first attempts to discern evidence of the paranormal in the world around us.

I
F
I
WERE EVER GOING TO TRY TO READ SOMEONE'S
mind, I didn't think it would be my twin sister's. The person I know better than anybody is Ji. At least, I used to. But by the time we decided to do this ESP project, I was surprised that she thought we were on the same wavelength anymore—about anything.

Now that Ji has so many new friends, I spend a lot of time wondering what she wants to do with me. When I ask her, she says I'm crazy to worry that things have changed. But her not admitting it to me—that's definitely part of the change.

What is our friendship about to her? If I could read her mind, that's what I'd want to know.

But I can't do it. I've tried and tried. That's when Ben pointed out to me that I've tried and tried with Ji, and who knows how long we'll be friends? With Kathleen, who's my sister for life, I've never tried.

***

I am older than Kathleen by four minutes, although sometimes it seems like four years. My father held me during those four minutes, and my mother gave me a name—Claire Catherine, after her two favorite saints.

The first thing I did in this world was to almost kill my sister (not very saintlike) by using all our oxygen when we were being born. The first thing Kathleen did was shut her mouth tight and not breathe and not cry. She has since made up for this many times over.

Kathleen didn't get her name until the third day, when everybody was sure she was going to live. I was already home from the hospital then, and Aunt Lynn came to take care of me. Aunt Lynn says I cried the whole time. She says I couldn't bear to be separated from my sister.

So when Ben started talking about research on twins separated at birth, I thought about Kathleen and me and all the things between us ever since the day we were born.

I tried to understand how these twins who had never met each other in their whole lives could be closer than me and Kathleen. How could they share butter pecan ice cream across 2,000 miles when Kathleen and I can't even share a birthday cake? How could they laugh at the same jokes when I've heard Kathleen's chicken crossing the road every day since kindergarten and never laughed once? How could they feel each other's gut-wrenching pain (literally) when Kathleen's can only make me a little bit numb?

And I thought,
How come I can't read her mind when she's never out of my thoughts for one minute
?

I definitely feel that being Kathleen's twin qualifies as a paranormal experience. I might have chosen this topic for my Paranormal Pursuit, but that would take a whole book. Sorry, Mr. Ennis, but we're not getting a grade in this class.

Ji is an only child, and she says she never feels lonely. Meanwhile, I am a twin, and sometimes I feel like the loneliest person in the world. Well, maybe not quite. Maybe that's one area where Kathleen and I are pretty equal.

I'd never thought about trying to get inside Kathleen's head before. First of all, the idea's kind of scary. And second, why should I? I already know when Kathleen's going to need a tissue even before she starts crying; I know when she's going to need a scolding even before she does something wrong; I know when she's going to sing "On Eagle's Wings" when the rest of the congregation is singing "Amazing Grace," or hug Mr. Ennis when he's trying to teach a lesson. I know when she's going to feed my homework to the pig or let the dog chew my cleats. But I know these things from experience, not ESP. And knowing doesn't help me prevent any of them from happening. Besides, it's not the same as understanding why she has to be the center of attention—always.

Whatever I give her—praise, time, all my Halloween candy every year—it's never what she wants; it's never enough. How could it be?

Kathleen takes, and she takes, and, as much as I want to make up for what I took from her, how could I ever?

Sometimes she tells people—strangers in church—that I hit her.

Once—I hit her once when we were four. She hit me first. Because I ate the last Special Dark out of the Hershey's Miniatures bag.

Mom said I knew Special Dark was Kathleen's favorite. It wasn't my favorite. I should have saved it for her, I should have been more understanding, I certainly shouldn't have hit her back. I should have been a better sister.

That day I sat in the corner and listened to Kathleen laugh and play and chase after the puppy the way she usually chased after me. I can still taste that memory—chocolate and tears that stayed bitter on the back of my tongue for a long, long time.

Normal sisters fight, but we don't—not anymore. Now I swallow everything and let her do the crying for both of us.

Ben gave me an article to read about twin girls. They're conjoined twins, attached at the chest. They share the same heart. They can never be apart from each other—never, as long as they live. Each of them has one leg, and if they want to walk, they have to use both their legs together. That means they always have to agree where they want to go.

Sometimes I feel as though Kathleen and I are tied together like that, ever since our umbilical cords got tangled before we were born. And—just like then—she's trying to go one way, and I'm trying to go the other.

Today's our birthday, and I hate thinking of one more year growing between us, pushing that big space into something even bigger.

When Kathleen blows out all our birthday candles every year, does she understand the wish I'd make if she gave me the chance? Does she understand she's taking that away from both of us?

I don't know. I don't have ESP.

I'm sorry to say that my telepathy project isn't complete, Mr. Ennis. It's just starting. I have a feeling it might take another seventy years before I can give you any conclusive results. Before I can say that I understand Kathleen. I apologize for missing the deadline, but I have a feeling you understand.

(as told to Whitney Phelps, mother
^*
)

M
Y ONE PROBLEM IS
A
LICE
. S
HE'S—WELL, SHE WAS
—a snake. Mr. Ennis's milk snake, but she didn't eat milk. Just mice and small reptiles. She was a present from our principal, Mrs. Mathews, for Mr. Ennis's classroom. That's why he named her Alice. After Mrs. Mathews.

Mr. Ennis is my homeroom teacher. He's this very nice man with glasses. He says hi to me and listens when I talk to him, and he smells very good. He doesn't wear cologne or aftershave. I think it's his deodorant. Spring Fresh scent.

I'm glad I'm in Mr. Ennis's homeroom. The only bad part is that they do homerooms by the alphabet. That means my sister Claire is there. We don't usually have classes together, except homeroom and P.E. and special stuff like club. We don't like to very much, either.

My problem started on club-picking day. See, I wanted to be in the WCTV club. That's the Clearview News Channel. I wanted to read the news on TV like Diane Sawyer. She's famous. I even dreamed about it the night before. I was a famous anchorperson on TV like Diane Sawyer.

But Claire doesn't like me getting attention. She always tries to put a stop to it. She wouldn't like me to pick that club, not one little bit. I even thought she might change my club paper when I wasn't looking. I wouldn't put it past her.

So on club-picking day, I tried to sit far away from Claire. Only, away from Claire happened to be near the snake cage. I usually try to avoid the snake cage area because it makes me so sad.

Alice was a nice snake—charming. Ha—charming snake. That's funny, isn't it?

Here's another good one. What did one strawberry say to the other? If you hadn't been so fresh, we wouldn't have gotten into this jam.

Alice had shiny eyes. And nice skin, for a snake. But she looked sad. Sad and smushed.

"Let me out!" it seemed like she was saying. "I don't belong here."

I knew how she felt. Exactly precisely.

But I couldn't help her. I told her I couldn't. It was against the rules to let her out. Mr. Ennis said.

But Alice didn't take no for an answer. No, she didn't. She slithered off her log and looked me in the eye. RIGHT IN THE EYE.

Old Claire was watching me with her beady eyes. And that friend of hers, Ji Oh, too. Ji tries to act like she's my friend, but I'm not stupid. She treats me like a baby, just like Claire.

I stood up and bent over the cage so Claire couldn't see everything I was doing. Then I lifted up the lid to Alice's cage. I thought I could just scratch her between the eyes the way Sunshine likes.

"It's okay," I whispered to Alice. "Don't be afraid."

Alice hugged me. She hugged me and kissed me and sniffed my hair with her tongue. Snakes are cold-blooded, but she was real warm.

I let her crawl around and stretch a little, so she could unsmush. She's the one who decided to crawl out the window. She wanted to be free. I thought it would be the best thing for her.

That's when we got caught, me and Alice.

Ji tried to pull Alice back through the window. But Alice was too slippery for her. Then Ji started crying that Alice bit her. It was just a little tongue lick, though. Ji is such a baby.

I was real happy for Alice, that she was free. I was happy for a little while, because I didn't know yet.

I didn't know a milk snake isn't made to live in Maryland in the woods in the wintertime. Or even the fall. That's why Alice is dead and gone. It hurts me that it happened. But I didn't mean to let her die. Don't listen to what other people say.

Claire kept asking me why did I let Alice go out the window. I started breathing real hard and hyperventilating like. I couldn't say anything. She got real mad because I wouldn't answer her question.

That's when Mr. Ennis sent us all to the office—me and Claire and Ji. Ji put cold water on her finger. Claire made me breathe into a paper bag that smelled like McDonald's french fries. Mrs. Mathews called my mother to say I killed her snake that was named after her. That's when the WCTV club got filled up. The death of the snake was their first main story. But I never thought I'd get on TV that way.