Chapter 126: The Lazy Twin

Chapter 126: The Lazy Twin CLARK POV: I rushed into class just a few seconds before the math teacher walked in—cutting it way too close for comfort. And as expected, Clare was nowhere to be seen. Either she was going to show up late and land herself in detention (again), or she was skipping the class altogether. Especially since it’s math. Yeah... let’s be honest. Total no-show. And to think I was almost late because of her. Nearly sacrificed my punctual record—and for what? So she could bail on math class like it was her sworn enemy? Who am I kidding? If she did show up, she’d probably sleep through the whole thing anyway. She’s got this classic move she pulls off every time. She’d sit in the back corner of the classroom, right against the wall. Her posture always made it look like she was taking notes—head slightly bowed, pen in hand, book open at just the right angle. Her messy hair would fall around her face, covering her eyes, and the hand with the pen would rest on the page like she was just pausing to think. It fooled everyone. Mostly the teachers. Heck, even I was fooled in middle school. I remember one day during the last class of the day, she pulled her little stunt again. Class ended, everyone left, and she was still there, in her "studying" position. I thought she was so locked in, so focused, she hadn’t noticed the bell ring or the classroom emptying out. So I walked up to her, ready to drag her out of her academic trance. But as I got closer, I noticed the hand with the pen hadn’t moved once. Not even a twitch. And when I gave her a gentle poke—boom. Her balance gave out, and she collapsed forward, face-planting into her book... snoring like a lumberjack.. Full-on, dead asleep. That was the day I realized my genius of a sister had mastered the art of sleeping while pretending to study. So yeah, I wasn’t too worried about her. Clare had made it crystal clear—starting from grade one—that she had zero plans to go to college. She’d said it with the same confidence most kids reserve for declaring they want to be astronauts or superheroes. And when I told her she wouldn’t get rich because she’s too lazy to do anything that requires actual hard work, she just smirked and told me she’d wait for me to become a rich genius and help me spend all my money. Her words: "Because you’re way too boring to even use a quarter of what you’ll earn." That’s little Clare. In middle school, whenever I joked that I was carrying the brains for both of us, she’d shrug and say, "Then you better use them well and make enough money for both of us—since I’m carrying all the fun." Originally, I had planned to go to the same university as her, just to keep an eye on her, help her out... make sure she didn’t fall behind. But her absolute refusal to even apply gave me the freedom to aim higher. A shot at a top university. One she wouldn’t have been able to get into, even with help. And even if I had found a way to get her in, I doubt she’d be able to keep up with the pace, the workload, or the expectations. She just didn’t have the academic stamina to keep up, and we both knew it. But truth be told, I also knew that part of thereason she was so against college was because our parents couldn’t really afford to send both of us. Not at the same time. She didn’t want to be a burden. Not on them. Not on me. Our parents weren’t exactly well-off, and affording university for both of us at the same time? That would’ve been a stretch. So maybe—just maybe—under all her jokes and wild confidence, Clare had chosen to step back... for me. But you’d never hear her admit that. And behind that wild hair and leather jacket, Clare was the most loyal person I knew—even if she had no intention of cracking open a textbook ever again. She didn’t show up. Not that I was surprised, but still, I hoped she would—especially today. And apparently, the math teacher was too excited to even notice her absence. We had special guests from Memoville University, one of the top-ranking colleges outside the country. They came to speak with the senior students about what the university offered—programs, expectations, campus life. Basically, a whole sales pitch. But the part that really caught my attention? Scholarship programs. Full rides. Partial aid. Merit-based, need-based—you name it. My brain was already working double-time. If I could get in on one of those scholarships, Clare could actually go to college too. We’d make it work. Maybe she wouldn’t have to give up on it completely. She could apply. She should apply. That’s why I was now darting across the school grounds, checking all her usual hiding spots. The back of the library, behind the gym, the rooftop staircase—nothing. No sign of her. I even tried the vending machine hallway; sometimes she hung around there, snacking and skipping class like it was a sport. I checked the back corners of the school, the rooftop, the library (even though she wouldn’t be caught dead studying voluntarily), and even the art room, which she occasionally used as her hiding spot when she didn’t want to be found. Still nothing. Next class starts in fifteen minutes, and at this point, I wasn’t sure if she planned to show up at all or if she’d already bailed on the whole day. Still, I wasn’t giving up yet. Because for once, I had a shot at dragging her along into a future that didn’t just involve fast bikes, sarcasm, and avoiding responsibility. If she’d just listen—just this once—maybe we could do this together. I found her. Of course, I did—just a few minutes before the bell rang for History. She was coming out of the janitor’s closet, laughing like she didn’t have a care in the world, and right behind her was Jason, his shirt half tucked and hair slightly messed up. I wasn’t an idiot. I could put two and two together. When she noticed me standing there, arms crossed and eyebrows raised in full older-brother judgment mode, she just chuckled, as if I’d walked in on her sneaking candy instead of—well, whatever that was. She lifted both hands in mock surrender. "Chillax, bro. I’m still a virgin," she said with a grin. Yuck. That was more information than I needed, but at the same time... a small wave of relief hit me. I’d still prefer she wasn’t sneaking off into closets with guys like Jason, but knowing she still had some boundaries made it slightly more bearable. Slightly. "Come on," I said, grabbing her by the arm—not too hard, just enough to show her I wasn’t playing anymore. "You’re going to class. You’ve already missed enough today." She groaned but let herself be dragged along the hallway. "Seriously, Clark? Now you’re playing dad?" I ignored the comment and jumped straight to what mattered. "Listen. Memoville University sent reps today. They talked about scholarship programs, top facilities, research departments, career opportunities—Clare, it’s big. And I think I have a shot at a full scholarship." She gave me a sideways glance, unimpressed. "Good for you, genius." I stopped walking and turned to face her. "No. You don’t get it. If I get in on a scholarship, that frees up money. Maybe, just maybe, you could go to college too. You should seriously apply to a university. Any university. I don’t care if it’s close or far or weird or artsy—just pick one. I’ve got this. I’m going to land that Memoville scholarship. Full ride. That way, you don’t have to worry about Mom and Dad stretching their budget to cover us both."" She blinked slowly, like she hadn’t even considered that possibility. But the hope I felt fizzled fast because she rolled her eyes and waved the idea away like I’d suggested eating broccoli for breakfast. "I told you before," she said flatly. "I’m done with school. I’m tired of it. College just isn’t for me, Clark." I stared at her, frustration building in my chest. "You can’t keep running away from everything just because it’s hard. You’re smart, Clare. Just because you don’t like school doesn’t mean you’re not meant for something more." She spoke, voice flat. "I told you, I’m not going. I’m done with school. I’m tired of the studying, the pressure, the waking up early. It’s not for me." "That’s not a reason," I shot back, not hiding the frustration in my voice. "That’s an excuse. You’re smart enough, Clare. You just don’t try." "Exactly. I don’t want to try. I’m not like you, Clark. I don’t get excited over math equations or university rankings. That’s your thing. Not mine." "Not everyone wants to live in a lab or a library," she continued. "Not everyone wants to chase degrees and bury themselves in textbooks. That’s your dream, not mine." We argued the rest of the way down the hall. Me, trying to convince her that maybe there was still time to change her mind, that she didn’t have to give up on herself so soon. Her, staying stubborn as always, saying she’d rather figure things out her own way—even if that meant working random jobs, or "marrying rich" as she always half-joked. By the time we got to the classroom, I was exhausted. We walked in just as the teacher was writing on the board. Clare didn’t even look my way. She drifted straight to the back of the room and dropped into her usual seat—right in the corner, by the wall. Her favorite hiding spot. I watched her settle in—slouching low in the chair, notebook open, pen in hand, head tilted like she was listening. But I knew that posture too well. It was her usual trick. Pretend to take notes while drifting off into whatever dreamland her wild brain liked to escape to. I sighed and turned to find my own seat. Maybe she’d never take the path I imagined for her, but I wasn’t going to stop trying. Not when I knew how much potential she had. Not when she was my twin—and the only person in the world I’d sacrifice my dreams for.