Two dark haired teenagers flew down the stairs, the aged steps creaking with every footstep. "All right now, calm down!" A motherly voice wafted from the kitchen. "There's enough for everyone."

The two boys moved through the barely furbished living room, paying no attention to the thin rug, under-stuffed couch and miniature TV, showing the morning news in black and white, that they were long-since accustomed to. The kitchen was no better - a small, scrubbed wooden table with several mismatched chairs was the main focus of the room. But though the wallpaper was faded, and the linoleum chipped in places, the kitchen was clean, and accentuated by a few homey touches like a bright red clock hanging on the wall, which read 6:45 am, colorful, hand knitted potholders and several picture frames depicting identical twin boys in various stages of life, who were now sitting at the table gobbling their breakfast.

"Mom," one of the boys said through a mouthful of scrambled eggs, "Can I have ketchup with this?" His mother obliged, and the teenager dumped the red sauce onto his eggs.

"Ugh, Joel," Benji said in disgust, "That's gross."

Their mother watched on with happiness in her eyes, a rare sight which could only be seen when she looked at her sons. Colleen's face looked like it had once been pretty, but now it was drawn and pale, fine lines tracing her forehead, and her ash-blonde hair, pulled back into a loose bun at the base of her neck, was streaked slightly with gray. She was a slight woman, long fingers and slim wrists and ankles skinnier than a child's. Her clothes, like her kitchen, were old and faded but immaculately clean.

Almost as soon as the food was finished, the three in the kitchen heard a rustling and a thump upstairs, very noticeable through the thin walls. The boys glanced at their mother. The momentary happiness was gone from Colleen's eyes, and she said in a composed, artificial sounding voice, "How about you go to school now? I'll see you in the afternoon."

The twins looked at each other. Without a word, they gathered their school things and hurried out the door. You could notice the similarity in their stride as they walked together to the bus stop. There was an unspoken tension between them, and suddenly Benji burst out, "We shouldn't have left her!"

He glanced at his brother, anger etched on his face. Joel's head was down, eyes staring unseeing at his worn out shoes. "It wouldn't have helped any if we'd stayed," he said, voice barely audible.

Benji glared at him for a minute, then his expression softened. "I know."

The two walked in silence to the bus stop, where they sat on the bench, heaving off their backpacks and setting them on the ground. "Hey," Joel said, attempting a note of joviality in his voice, "Maybe he'll just head straight out the door today."

Benji shook his head slightly. "I don't know anymore."

The 7:10 city bus came a few minutes later, and within a half hour they arrived at La Plata High School. They stood on the sidewalk, the exhaust sputtering as the bus drove away. Teenagers mingled at the entrance, drowning each other's voices out with their loud raucous voices. Somewhere inside the school, a bell rang shrilly, and kids began to pour into the school.

"Well, see you in Social Studies," Joel said, and walked away from his brother.

Benji sighed, gazing up at the school, the supposed 'temple of knowledge' that was his own personal hellhole. "So it begins," he muttered, and headed into the school.