Even though Vanessa's mother had sent us for our nap only ten minutes ago, Vanessa – the other Vanessa – was writhing miserably in her pink sheets. She sighed and fell onto her stomach. She coughed once then let out a small groan. On the ground, I slowly turned my back to the bed. I knew she might be looking over the edge soon and I wanted her to think I was sleeping. I didn't want to see his big blue eyes and the face that I knew was wide awake. I never slept, but I wanted to pretend I did now. If she thought I was sleeping, she'd be less likely to... "Hey," the other Vanessa whispered, her voice wide awake and still sounding like the smell of weed against the rough plastic walls of a good orange slide. walked in the garden. I closed my eyes and buried my nose in the pillow. “Hey,” she said in a low voice. “Hey, wake up, I heard the door.” I turned around slowly. Yes, there were his eyes, blue and ready, looking at me from the mattress. "What?" I asked. I hadn't heard any door and I certainly hadn't slept to miss it. “I think my mother is gone,” she said. “Come on, let’s get up.” She swung her thin white legs over the side of the bed and dropped the soles of her dirty feet on my chest. “And do what?” I asked without moving. Was her mother really gone? The other Vanessa knew her house better than me and maybe she had heard the front door, but what if she hadn't? What if she just said she did it to get me up? What if she really didn't care if we got in trouble? She climbed down to the end of her pink pony bed and slid to the floor in a crouch. His smile was terrible, impatient and full of gaps. She snatched the extra pink blanket from me and threw it in the nearest corner, on top of the linen... middle of paper ...gave me one, but I could tell by her smile that she Anyway, I didn't care. I held the can between two palms. Although it remained in the cupboard, the metal was still cold. I looked at the top and realized I didn't know how to open it. I had never opened a can before. There were several circles and pieces, all ready to cut my fingers and make them bleed. “You put your fingernail under the metal thing,” she said, seeming to sense my apprehension. “But don’t pull your nail out because it will hurt a lot.” I slipped my index fingernail under the tab as she did the same. I waited for her to stop on hers, then I did the same, using all the strength in my little arm. First a blast of gaseous air, then a bit of sparkling brown foam. I had opened my first can of soda. The other Vanessa smiles. “You did it,” she said.