Noah sat beside Violet on the bed and squeezed her hand. He wasn't sure how else to comfort her.

"Everybody grows up, Vi," he said. "I've read a little about twins—sometimes one resents being constantly paired with the other and wants independence. He still loves you; that's obvious. But you excel at things Kaleb doesn't, so I can see why he'd be jealous. He's probably trying to escape your shadow."

She blinked in surprise. Kaleb did complain about her perfection; it was a common part of his teasing. Could that really be it?

Violet wasn't perfect, though. It was all an act. She strived for excellence because she feared losing the love of those around her if she didn't.

Everyone always praised her beauty, intelligence, and talent. While she enjoyed the praise, an unspoken expectation seemed to accompany it—a demand for constant perfection, leaving no room for mistakes.

Her mother always said mistakes were part of growth, but Violet couldn't believe it. Her famous, brilliant scientist mother? Her famous, mega-rich CEO father? They couldn't possibly make mistakes.

Few people truly liked her. Violet couldn't bear losing the affection of even one. Nobody at school truly cared; she was close to no one outside her family except Noah.

If she faltered, if she failed, would they stop loving her? The thought was unbearable.

As for Kaleb, he excelled at things she didn't—sports, for example, or interpersonal skills. He made friends effortlessly, something she longed to do. He moved through the world with ease, while she struggled to find her place, feeling like a square peg in a round hole.

"But he's good at everything I'm not," she whispered. "And I'm not pushing him away. I'm pushing back when he's mean because it hurts. I don't want this treatment; I want my twin back."

Tears welled up—she rarely cried. Confiding in Noah seemed to break a dam.

Noah immediately wrapped his arms around her. "Hey, it's okay. You'll work things out. You're still family, no matter what. Sibling relationships are the longest-lasting; I read that somewhere. You have plenty of time."

Violet sobbed into his shoulder, her height advantage making her a bit awkward. Would time really fix this? They needed to talk, but she doubted Kaleb would cooperate. He avoided emotional discussions.

Growing up, he'd always ended their arguments with laughter, preventing any true resolution. He preferred to move on and forget rather than address problems.

The door opened, and Jennica's cheerful voice announced, "Dinner's ready!" Seeing Violet sobbing in Noah's arms, her tone softened. "Oh. I'm sorry, I interrupted. Are you alright, Violet?"

Violet shook her head, too embarrassed to speak after being caught. Jennica, her mother's best friend, would surely tell her mother, forcing Violet to explain her tears.

"I made potato soup," Jennica offered gently. "Soup makes everything better. I'll bring your bowls up."

"Your mom is really nice," Violet hiccuped.

Wiping her eyes, she found her mascara smeared. Fantastic.

Hopping off the bed, she checked her reflection and yelped. She looked like the woman in the old "Mulan" movie her mother had shown her—the one who got tea spilled on her head, minus the mustache.

Noah handed her tissues.

"I look like that lady from Mulan," she said ruefully. He'd seen the movie.

"Nah, you're way prettier."

Violet dabbed her eyes and later asked Jennica for makeup remover. She reappeared with a wipe, thanked Jennica, and the older woman left. Violet and Noah ate their soup in silence.

Honestly, she wasn't embarrassed about crying on Noah; only about being caught by his mother. Their relationship was comfortable; there was no need for embarrassment. They understood each other. He knew about her complex inner world and struggles with relating to people. She knew about his tendency to talk excessively when excited and his difficulty focusing.

Though they'd grown more different over time, they still connected. Violet wished she could say the same about her twin.

The further she distanced herself from Kaleb, the more she worried about Noah. What if they weren't always close? What if he resented her someday?

Noah's focus issues hampered his schoolwork. He hyper-focused on certain subjects, but then couldn't focus at all. He could tell you anything about dinosaurs or airplanes but struggled to complete math assignments without help. His mother couldn't help, and his father wasn't home until dinner, so Noah often didn't finish—or did it incorrectly.

Violet helped when she could, but ballet kept her busy. They usually only worked together around dinner time.

"Do you resent me for my good grades?" she asked abruptly.

Noah looked at her as if she'd grown a second head. "Why would I? You're the only reason my grades aren't worse."

He had a C average, enough to move to 7th grade. Without Violet, he'd likely fail math, which was far harder for him to focus on than reading.

It was a silly question. Noah didn't think like Kaleb. She needed a better question.