Roll out of bed for breakfast

Joey wasn’t sure what had dragged him out of bed. The smell of toast, the ache in his head, or the memory that today he was officially eighteen. Not that he felt any different. Mostly he felt like garbage.

He shuffled into the kitchen, hair a mess, eyes half shut. Emma was already there, naturally. His twin sister had beaten him to the morning again, like she always did.

She stood by the counter in a crisp white blouse and a fitted navy skirt, hair brushed to a shine, makeup subtle but perfect. Her backpack leaned against the wall, organized and ready. Even the toast smelled better because she had made it.

Emma turned, smiled just a little too smugly, and said, “Happy birthday, twin. You look like a corpse.”

Joey dropped into a chair and buried his face in his arms. “Don’t talk so loud.”

“Big night?” she asked, sliding eggs onto a plate. She didn’t sound jealous, just amused. Emma never seemed to envy him, no matter what he did. Straight A student, captain of this, volunteer of that. While Joey stumbled through late assignments and hangovers, she seemed to glide.

He grunted. “Yeah. Big night.”

Emma set a glass of water in front of him, like a nurse tending a patient. “You’re lucky I made breakfast. Mom would’ve let you starve.”

Joey peeked up at her through bloodshot eyes. “You really know how to celebrate turning eighteen, huh? Books and toast?”

Emma gave him a prim smile. “Some of us actually want to graduate.”

He groaned and stuffed his mouth with toast, trying not to think about the history test waiting for him. His stomach rebelled at first, then grudgingly accepted. The eggs helped.

Emma sat across from him with her own plate, toast cut neatly into triangles. She ate slowly, deliberately, each bite as tidy as the last. She never seemed to hurry, never spilled, never left a crumb. Joey hated how even chewing, she looked like she was winning.

They ate in silence for a while, the kind of silence only siblings could manage. Not comfortable, not hostile, just there. The kitchen ticked with the clock on the wall. Outside, the world was pale with early light.

“You’ve got a test today, right?” Joey muttered.

Emma dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “History. First period.”

He groaned. “Same.”

“You studied?” she asked, though her voice already carried the answer.

Joey pointed at his bloodshot eyes. “Does this look like I studied?”

She smiled just enough to make it sting. “Good luck with that.”

He rolled his eyes, downed more water, and wished the floor would stop tilting under him.

She crossed to the hallway mirror, brushing her hair once more, straightening her blouse, giving her skirt one last tug. Joey leaned back, watching her go through the routine. Always fussing, always checking.

Then he noticed it. The faint lines showing under the fabric, cutting across what she clearly thought was a flawless look.

He snorted. “Wow. Panty lines. What are you even wearing under there, granny panties?”

Emma spun, eyes flashing. “Shut up.”

Joey grinned wider. “I’m serious. You’re all dressed up like Miss Perfect, and then you ruin it with those ugly panties. Doesn’t really match the image, does it?”

Her cheeks colored. She tugged at the skirt, then smoothed it again, as if that would fix anything. “Nobody notices that.”

“I noticed.” Joey leaned back, enjoying himself. Then, almost offhand, he added,

“You know, all hot girls wear thongs.”

“You are such a fucking creep, you know that?” Emma snapped, but her voice cracked just a little. She turned back to the mirror, lips pressed tight, adjusting her blouse again even though it didn’t need it.

The words hung in the air. And for a moment, Joey felt a strange little buzz in his chest, faint and quick, like a shiver that wasn’t quite physical. It was gone before he could think about it.

He almost laughed. Emma, the perfect twin, rattled by panty lines.

He drained his glass, grabbed his bag, and followed her out the door. The morning sun stabbed at his skull, but he felt lighter in spite of it.

For once, Emma wasn’t untouchable. For once, she wasn’t perfect. And that, Joey decided, was a birthday gift in itself.