2.3 The Calculations of Antigone Richards

by Matt P.

Antigone Richards checked her outfit carefully, making sure that everything was precisely ordered for maximum effect. Free spirited, but not too free spirited. Approachable, without being dumpy. Obviously caring, but without too much care being obvious. It was a delicate dance, and she had carefully applied the lessons she learned from the last time they had moved. And the time before that. And…well, never mind.

Their new school, Dwight D. Eisenhower High School, was just on the outside edge of walking distance, which was ideal. Close enough that she could walk but far enough away she would have plausible excuses if there was something she didn’t want to do, and wouldn’t likely be caught if she needed to ditch with a group of friends. Not that she liked ditching, but it was a calculation.

“Stop calculating.” Siobhan said, rolling her eyes. Antigone matched it, huffing a bit. She thought Siobhan came too close sometimes to the mind-reading twins were supposed to have.

“I just want it to work, Bonnie.” She said with with a sigh, which drew a sympathetic nod and then a shrug. Her sister looked down at her black blouse and frilly black skirt, and shrugged.

“It’ll either work out or it won’t.” Siobhan offered, less with zen like calm then casual acceptance. They passed through the last neighborhood before the school, nice homes that looked like they could have been out of central casting, and crossed the street to the school.

DEHS was in a very old style, all red brick and white plaster windows and arches. Honest to God arches on the center of the building, an impressive clock tower. They had been there a few days before to register for classes, but it was still impressive.

“I found out the clock-tower is closed.” Siobhan said with a sigh, shaking her head. “I’ll have to find somewhere else to smoke.”

“Shooting fears?” Antigone asked, drawing a nod from the raven haired twin. “Lame. But you don’t smoke.”

“I’m thinking about picking it up, for my image.” Siobhan answered. Antigone didn’t respond but kept walking up to the top stair, and the large doors. She stopped at the threshold, breathing in deeply to calm herself.

Unbidden, Siobhan reached out to take her hand, and squeezed it. “Ready?” She asked, their little ritual the same at every school they had been at. Antigone nodded.


And they entered the battlefield of high school together.