Chapter 2: Terrible News(2)
Marty looked at the staff's grim, solemn expression and knew that something had gone very, very wrong. "I didn't do it!" he insisted. Dr Beasel ignored Marty's shirt tail, his wild hair and his all too familiar disclaimer. "There has been a terrible accident," he said. "I'm afraid your parents
are..."
Grace fainted before Dr Beasel was able to finish. The nurse jumped up from her chair, and together with the chaplain and counsellor's help, laid her out on the sofa.
"I'll get my smelling salts," the nurse said, and ran out of the office.
Marty, who had seen Grace's emotions overwhelm her like this before, was not overly concerned. He glared around the room in angry frustration at the fussing adults until he could stand it no longer, then shouted, "Our parents are what?"
Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at him helplessly. Dr Beasel slithered over and put his long slender arm around his least favourite student's shoulders. "I'm afraid your parents are... missing," he said.
Marty sank into the nearest chair. "Both of them?" Dr.Beasel gave him a sad nod. "A helicopter crash in the Amazon. The pilot was found ... dead... a conflagration..."
Marty blinked. "A what?" He didn't know what the word meant, but it sounded bad.
Grace, who had recovered without smelling salts and was now sobbing uncontrollably, said. "A fire, Marty. A terrible fire" Marty joined his sister in her bewildered despair.
The next morning the news was all over the local papers and on the lips of every student and teacher in the school. The twins retreated to Grace's private table in the back of the school library to escape all the sympathetic murmurs and curious stares. Grace spent more time at this table than she did in the dormitory room she shared with her best friend, Brenda Scrivens. No one was allowed to use Grace's table.
"I have something to tell you," she said, holding her stuffed monkey. At least it was thought to be a monkey. The fabric was covered with patches and stitches that looked like scars; its left arm, mouth and ears were long gone. She'd had it since she was a baby and called it "Monkey". It was never far away from her. Marty referred to it as the "Frankenstein monkey".
He was seated across from her. Scattered over the table were several newspapers, open books, crumpled tissues, Grace's Moleskine journal, and scraps of paper filled with mathematical equations, which looked like Egyptian hieroglyphics to Marty, and made just about as much sense.
"But before I tell you," Grace continued, "you have to promise not to say a word about it to anyone else."
A promise between the twins was a sacred pact that could not be broken unless the one who had promised was released from the promise by the one who had asked for the promise. A promise was sealed by giving Monkey's remaining arm a squeeze.
Marty squeezed Monkey's arm. Grace nodded and took a deep breath. "Remember those nightmares I used to have when I was little?" "How could I forget?" Marty answered. "They nearly drove you crazy. Don't tell me they're back."
"They're back."
Marty shuddered. No wonder she'd looked so tense outside the Weasel's door. The nightmares had bothered her from the time she was two and a half years old until she was six. When Grace was a little girl, two or three times a week she would wake up screaming. And when she had calmed down enough to speak, she had virtually no recollection of what the dream was about.
"I thought you'd outgrown all that," Marty said. The nightmares had stopped after the twins arrived at the boarding school. "I did, too." Grace shook her head. "But they're back."
"Do you remember anything?" Marty asked.
"No, but there's something very familiar about all this.Déjà vu, as if I've been through all this before."
"Well, I haven't," Marty said, feeling as if ants were crawling on his neck. Grace sometimes had this effect on him.
She opened one of the newspapers and spread it out on the desk. "Have you seen this article?" He looked down at the newspaper. Accompany ing the long article describing the accident was a dra matic colour photograph of the twins' father, Timothy O'Hara. The photo had been taken by their mother and the caption below it read: SYLVIA O'HARA'S FINAL PHOTOGRAPH.
"Mother's last kiss," he whispered, staring father's handsome face, trying to hold back tears. Their mother believed that taking a photograph was like giving someone a kiss. She had told them if there was no affection as the shutter released, the at his photograph was not worth taking. "She must have taken this on Mount Everest," Marty commented. Their parents had reached the summit just before they flew off to South America to write an article about the rainforest.
In the photo their father was smiling at their mother with mild amusement. His oxygen mask and goggles were pulled down around his neck. His face was windburned and slightly paler around his grey eyes where the goggles had been. It was a bright day - the kind of day their mother loved because it gave her photos something she called "depth of field", meaning the background was as sharply focused as the fore ground. Their mother was standing next to him, which meant she had put the camera or a tripod and set the shutter to release on its own. Her curly blonde hair spilled over the collar of her parka. Her right hand was bare. (You can't manipulate a camera with mittens) A light meter hung around her neck.
Marty stared at the photograph so he didn't have to watch Grace cry. A lump the size of a chicken egg lodged in his throat. "Do you think Mom got our Mother's Day card?" The twins had sent the handmade card to her two
weeks early, hoping it would get to her in time.
"I hope so," Grace said, reaching over and taking his hand. With his free hand Marty picked up a used tissue from the table.
Sylvia and Timothy O'Hara were one of the most famous photojournalist teams in the world. Together they had climbed the highest mountains, probed the deepest caves and rafted the wildest rivers.
After Marty and Grace were born, Sylvia hung her cameras up and moved into a house in Missoula, Montana, while Timothy continued travelling and writing to support their new family. He was gone more than he was home, and he missed many of the twins' early accomplishments.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
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Anon_inspiration I hope you like this chapter :)
*This chapter is the longest so far*
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