‘Come on, Mum will never even know,’ I said, rolling my eyes at my twin sister, Julie.
‘Mum always knows,’ she protested. ‘No, Jerry, we’re not doing this. I’m not doing this.’
‘You know,’ I said, tightening the strap on my helmet. ‘We are twins.’
‘So?’ Julie frowned. ‘That doesn’t mean I have to do everything with you.’
‘No,’ I grinned. ‘But it does mean if I do something and get hurt, you’ll get the same bruises – so Mum won’t know who to blame!’
‘That’s a myth,’ Jerry scoffed, uncertainly.
‘Oh, yeah?’ I asked her, dropping to my knees to carefully position the washing basket. ‘Then explain that time I got hit with a baseball and you got a bruise in the exact same spot on your shoulder?’
‘Because you punched me in the shoulder afterwards!’ she said. ‘So that we’d have the same bruise!’
‘Who’s to say how that bruise got there?’ I shrugged. ‘Now – are you going to help me slide down these stairs in Mum’s washing basket, or not?’
‘You’re going to break something,’ she huffed.
‘Like what?’
‘Like the vase, the glass balustrade, your arms—’
‘Hey!’ I interrupted her with a frown. ‘This is quality glass. It won’t just break.’
I rapped my knuckles on it to prove my point, listening to the reverberation echo satisfyingly down the staircase.
‘I’m not looking for a glazier near Melbourne to repair a glass balustrade if you break that,’ Julie said, lifting her hands and taking a step back.
‘God, would you relax?’ I rolled my eyes. ‘Seriously, it’ll be fun!’
‘Why do you even need my help?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘I need somebody to push me,’ I said.
‘You’re lying.’
‘Am not!’
‘You can push yourself!’
‘Where’s the fun in that?’
She glared at me some more, nose pulled up in a frown. I sighed, exasperatedly.
‘Just think,’ I said. ‘The quicker you push me, the quicker I’ll be on the other end of the house.’
‘Oh,’ she nodded. ‘Good point.’
Her foot slammed out, rocketing me down the staircase before I could even blink.