Pirouette one, two, three, split, jump, plié plié arabesque, step, step, step grand jete and we're done! Reagan could hear her teacher, Ms. Ruphsev, clapping. She made a very showy bow, and her teacher laughed.
"Ja, Reagan. Excellent." Ms. Ruphsev was from Germany, and although she had lived in the United States for nine years, sometimes her native language came out in her speech. And she most definitely had an accent. Reagan didn't mind, though. She thought it sounded interesting. Looking at German, she always thought it seemed like a strong language, a harsh language, but a, well, a, an imposing language. It appeared to her as a leader among the languages, to be respected with its "Danke vielmas" and "Iche liebe dich." Not that she was going to tell Madison or anybody she thought that. Madison would scoff and say, "Why do you know how to say 'I love you' in stupid German?" Madison and Reagan didn't always see eye to eye.
"Very goot, very goot," Ms. Ruphsev was saying. "Work on the pas-des-chat at the beginning-" Reagan hated pas-des-chats "but the rest was charming. I shall see you on Thursday, ja?"
"Yeah. And thanks." Reagan started off the stage.
"Oh, you are velcome. Very velcome. Until Thursday, then." And Ms. Ruphsev left.
Reagan stepped out of their private room into the bustling lobby of the Performing Arts Center. She walked over to the concession stand. Usually, she bought a hamburger for $1.75 and warmed it up even more at the microwave, and she was planning on doing that today. She reached into the side pocket of her backpack and pulled out a quarter. Nothing else. Why, a quarter can buy you a—a cup of ice-water, nothing else. She checked again. And again. And again, more frantically each time, but she only found two sticks of spearmint gum and an eraser. Great.
Reagan remembered reading somewhere that water made the stomach feel full. She stood up and walked once again to the concession stand, her single quarter seeming to not weigh enough in her hand.
"Not a hamburger?" the lady behind the counter asked with a smile.
Reagan shook her head. "Not today, thanks. Just a cup of water, please."
The woman smiled and gave her a cup of water. Reagan flicked her quarter across the counter, picked up the water, and walked away.
Reagan sat down on the bench outside of the big auditorium and took a sip of her water. She felt just as hungry. She took another sip. Same thing. She took a big gulp of the water, then listened to her stomach grumble to show its emptiness. Nope. Not working.
"Care for one of these?"
Reagan started in her seat. She found Alistair Oh looking down at her.
"I had heard that Amy had a piano recital here, so I came over. It seemed like you were wondering," he explained. "But what are you doing here-" he paused, studying the twin in front of him-"Reagan?"
"Ballet. I had a lesson in there." Reagan pointed at the little room. "But care for what?"
"Oh, this," Alistair said, producing a microwaveable burrito. "I became worried when I saw you having water and no food with it." He laughed at his joke.
Reagan laughed too. His comment didn't strike her as mean, somehow. "Yeah, I forgot my money at home today." She took the burrito and read the instructions on the label. Microwave for 1:20, then open package. She had just begun microwaving it when a thought occurred to her.
"Um, Alis-Mr. Oh, why did you bring a burrito to a piano recital?"
He shrugged, looking sheepish. "I just had it, so I brought it in. I don't really know." He looked anxious to change the subject. "Tell me, who is your instructor?"
"Ms. Ruphsev. She's really good at ballet. I mean, she can hold an arabesque for a minute, at least! And she's German, which is pretty cool. She has the nicest little accent, and when she's praising me for something, she always says, 'Ja, Reagan.' Isn't that funny? But each time, it feels really special."
Alistair's eyes suddenly defocused. "Ja, ja. Not only German, ja," he murmured.
"Um, Mr. Oh?"
Alistair snapped back into the conversation. "Oh, I apologize. Beg pardon. It's just that I was remembering something. 'Ja' is also Russian."
"It is?" Reagan asked. "Don't words only go with one language?"
"This one's different. I remember when, when Irina would say that. 'Ja, the soup is very hot.' 'Ja, you might want to fix your shirt.' 'Ja, my son.' And I don't think she would say that from German."
Reagan thought back for a second. "I remember her saying that, too. I never thought of that. Funny."
Alistair looked like he remembered something. "You know, Irina took ballet for a time. To train for pole vaulting, for agility and grace. She always said that the pas-des-chats were dreadful. And I don't know what a pas-des-chat is. Would you mind demonstrating?"
Reagan stopped eating the burrito to show him, then said, "That. They're really not very fun. I always feel like a crab of sorts, with a killer itch. Doesn't it look like it?"
"An itchy crab?" Alistair smiled. "I suppose. Irina said it reminded her of a monkey with ants on its legs. I suppose I can see that."
"That's a good description, too. It just feels ridiculous! Oh, and the burrito was good." Reagan felt the urge to give him something in return. She fumbled in her backpack for the sticks of gum she had found earlier. "Do you want a piece?"
"Oh, oh no," Alistair said, "no thank you. I'm not really the gum-chewing type. I really couldn't-well, maybe, I suppose, I don't see why not. Yes, I will. Thank you."
Reagan handed him one of the pieces, grinning at his thought process. Alistair opened the wrapper and tentatively stuck it in his mouth. He took one chew, then another one, then looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. He hurried to the restroom, only to come out a few seconds later. And he wasn't chewing anything.
"You don't like it?" Reagan said, and Alistair looked down, shaking his head. "Oh, okay. That's fine. Thanks again for the burrito." Reagan prepared to walk away, then stopped. She turned around.
"Mr. Oh? When you first saw me, how did you know I was Reagan? Everybody else mixes us up."
Alistair thought a moment, then said, "I suppose you don't look the same to me. I mean, you do, you're identical, but you don't. Madison reminds me of her mother, your mother. Physical strength, stamina, power, I see all that in her. But you, you remind me more of Irina. You have more grace."
And he walked away, his cane tapping beside him. But their new bond, that didn't go away.
For Iris's Pairings to Die for Contest. Review if you feel the urge to. Thanks!