The Lost & Found Read Online Free PDF Page B

me. Talk later.
    Bucker // Bye, Nib.
    TheMissingNib has disconnected.
    I threw up an away message.
Life is beautiful. For some more than others. (Fishing with John.)
    I closed my computer and got dressed. I usually only showered at night because I couldn’t get into bed unless I felt clean.
    I left Bucker sleeping on the bed on my laptop (I don’t know what it was, he just really liked sleeping on my laptop) and walked down the hall to Willa’s room. Her door was still closed, and I didn’t bother knocking before I pushed it open.
    She was sleeping on her back, one arm draped across her eyes, her mouth opened and turned toward the wall. The covers were pooled down at the bottom of the bed. She couldn’t kick them away, so she would sit up and throw them off her. She was always hot. She had two fans blasting on her. It made me uncomfortable. I didn’t like the noise or the blades. My mother used to say we’d chop our fingers off. Then she stopped saying that.
    â€œWake up. We’re going to be late,” I said. I started pulling clothes out of Willa’s bureaus. It was easier if I picked her clothes out for her. Not because she couldn’t do it, but because she didn’t like to.
    It might be weird to say this, but my sister is fairly beautiful. I’m not saying it in a creepy way, I’ve just heard it repeated so many times that I finally had to acknowledge its truth. She has thick, shoulder-length brown hair, lighteyes, and clear skin. Everybody talked about how beautiful Willa was but nobody said it to her face because she didn’t like to hear it. She didn’t care.
    And we’re twins, sure, but we don’t look anything alike. The male equivalent of Willa would be a movie star or, like, a famous model or something. I am neither.
    â€œSkirt or shorts?” I asked her.
    She never wore pants. She couldn’t walk as well in them, and she didn’t like covering up her prosthetics.
    â€œLet them fucking stare, who cares,” she always said. And she wasn’t just saying it to say it. She really didn’t care. She was the least self-conscious person I’d ever met. Losing her legs hadn’t changed that.
    â€œHow hot is it?” she mumbled. “It feels hot.”
    â€œI think it’s hot.”
    â€œSkirt. And bring me my legs.”
    â€œGet your own legs,” I said. I threw her a skirt and a gray T-shirt and she pulled herself to a sitting position. She swung her thighs over the edge of the bed. She was wearing an oversized Mickey Mouse T-shirt and bright-pink sleep shorts. Her hair was sticking up on one side.
    â€œIt’s hot,” she said.
    â€œYou don’t have time to shower.”
    â€œWhere are we going?”
    â€œDr. Brightman.”
    â€œNew legs,” she said. She reached for her old ones and started pulling them on. “These are starting to pinch.”
    â€œGood timing, then.”
    â€œI thought Mom was taking me?”
    â€œShe’s at the store. Big client or something.”
    â€œIs Dad back yet?”
    â€œFlew in last night. You were already asleep.”
    â€œI’m still tired,” she said.
    â€œWell, you can take a nap later. Right now we have to see about some new appendages.”
    â€œI hope they match all my shoes,” Willa said.
    She had one pair of shoes. Gray Converse. I threw them at her and left her to get dressed.
    Even though I had just talked to Nib, I wrote her a short message while I waited for Willa to finish getting ready.
    Just wanted to say sorry again, about your mom. I can’t really imagine what it feels like and I guess I just wish I could do more for you. Sometimes it sucks, being internet friends—like I wish I knew your address so I could send you a card or something. Or flowers. I think flowers are a nice gesture. Please imagine I have just sent you a very large bouquet of flowers. You can pick what kind. The card attached