One Tiny Lie A Novel

teeth, instantly reminding me of Storm’s daughter, Mia. “I’m Eric.”
    I roll my eyes dramatically. “I’m never going to get this right.” Why do parents feel the need to name their identical twins rhyming names? I don’t say that out loud, though. I only smile.
    “Derek’s the bald one. He’s easy to remember,” Eric confirms with a shrug. “But soon I’m going to be bald too. Then you’re screwed.”
    “Eric,” Diane warns with an arched brow.
    “Sorry, Miss Diane.” He diverts his attention to a Hot Wheels car next to him, a sheepish look on his face. And my chest tightens a notch. Both of them?
    “Are you here to play with us?” Derek asks quietly.
    I nod. “Is that all right?”
    His little face suddenly brightens with a smile and I see that he’s also missing his two front teeth.
    Shifting my focus to his brother, who’s now smashing two cars together, I ask, “And you, Eric? Are you okay with that?”
    Eric looks over his shoulder at me and says with another shrug, “Sure. I guess.” But I catch the tiny smile as he turns back, and I know without a doubt that he’s the imp of the two.
    “Okay, good. First I’m just going to go over a few things with Miss Diane, okay?”
    Their heads bob in unison and they go back to their Legos.
    With my eyes still on them, I take a few steps back and drop my voice. “Cancer?”
    “Leukemia.”
    “Both of them? What are the odds of that?”
    She just shakes her head and sighs. “I know.”
    “How—” I swallow, unsure how to finish that sentence, a lump forming in my throat. “How bad?”
    Diane crosses her arms over her chest. “Their chances are great. Well . . .” Her eyes flicker to Derek briefly. “Their chances are good,” she corrects herself. Offering me a pat on my forearm, she says, “You’re going to see a lot while you’re here, Livie. Try not to lose sleep over it. Best you just focus on the here and now and leave the rest to medicine and prayer.”
    I have to remind myself to smooth my furrowed brow as I walk over to where the boys are. Sitting down cross-legged on the floor opposite them, I clap my hands. “Who wants to show me how to build one of these cool houses?” Neither, apparently, because that’s when I get hit with a barrage of questions—one after another, the two of them tag teaming like they’ve rehearsed it for hours.
    “We’re almost six years old. How old are you?” Eric asks.
    “Eighteen.”
    “Do you have parents?” Derek’s voice is so soft next to his brother’s that I barely hear him.
    I simply smile and nod, not elaborating.
    “Why did you come here?”
    “To learn how to build with LEGOs, of course.”
    “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
    “A doctor. For kids like you.”
    “Huh.” Eric pushes his little car around. “I think I want to be a werewolf. But . . . I’m not sure yet though. Do you believe in werewolves?”
    “Hmm . . .” I twist my mouth as if considering it. “Only the friendly kind.”
    “Huh.” He seems to consider that. “Or maybe I’ll be a race car driver.” He gives an exaggerated shrug. “I don’t know.”
    “Well, lucky for you that you have lots of time to decide that, right?” I feel the little kick my subconscious gives my stomach, warning me to get away from this line of conversation.
    Thankfully, Derek is already moving toward a new direction. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
    “No, not yet. But I’m working on it.”
    His little bald brows bunch together. “How do you work on a boyfriend?”
    “Well . . .” My hand crosses over my mouth to keep from bursting out with laughter. With a quick glance over to my left, I see that Diane’s lips are pressed tightly together as she helps another patient paint. She’s within earshot and she’s trying hard not to laugh. “I met someone who I like and I think he might like me too,” I answer honestly.
    Derek’s little head bobs up and down slowly as he mouths, “Oh.” He looks ready to ask another question, but his brother cuts him off.
    “Have you ever kissed a boy?”
    “Uh . . .” I stall for just a second, not expecting that question. “I don’t kiss and tell. That’s a good rule. You should remember it,” I say, and I fight against the blush.
    “Oh, I will. Dad says one day I’ll want to kiss girls, but I’m only five so it’s okay not to want to now.”
    “He’s right, you will. You both will.” I look at them both in turn with a