Chapter Text
“It’s not fair!” Alan’s miniature holographic form complained. I watch as he runs his hands through his long, dirty blonde hair. Amused, I fidget with a penny on my bed stand. My brother calls at least once a day, usually to rant about our father. Long ago, we had adjusted to leaving home for boarding schools, but the last three years, Alan and I were sent to different boarding schools. Both of us were used to living away from home most of the year, but we were living together. The separation took a hard toll on Alan, even though he’d never admit it. We are twins, together since birth. Where Alan called home about twice a week, he called me every day. Occasionally I call him first, just to mix it up. I guess that twins form a bond that cannot be severed, even by distance.
“Let me guess: dad still won’t let you be a Thunderbird.” I say. The Thunderbirds. That’s what the world calls us. My father became a billionaire after being an astronaut and engineer at NASA. He retired a few years after Scott was born and bought Tracy Island, my home. With my mother and Scott, my father lived on a small island in the Pacific Ocean that is still undocumented. Dad spent countless years creating what are now known as the Thunderbirds. The Thunderbirds are great machines, like rockets, that our family pilots to aid in disaster relief. To the outside world, the Thunderbirds are International Rescue, unknown heroes saving countless lives without asking for anything in return. To me, the Thunderbirds are my future.
Alan can barely wait to graduate high school and join my brothers John, Scott, Gordon, Virgil, and my dad. He already bugs my dad about letting him dropout of high school and join my brothers on missions. Everyone in my family was trained early on in rocket science. Ever since I could hold a pencil, my summers have been filled with trajectories and physics. My father trained us in hand to hand combat as well, and we learned how to use a firearm. He wanted us to be prepared for the “family business.” Yes, my upbringing wasn’t normal, but my family isn’t either. Our “family business” requires a special kind of training. Long story short, all of us could pilot the Thunderbirds by eighth grade, and anyone who picks a fight with me is in for a sore defeat. For maturity reasons, my father doesn’t let anyone join the team until after high school. As the only X presenting chromosome in the family, I may be the only person in my family, if not the world, who understood this rule at my age. All of my brothers wanted to skip high school and go on missions as well, but Alan is a bit more persistent. My father and Alan constantly butt-heads with each other, leaving me to mediate.
Alan sighs, his blue eyes alight with indignation. “All I asked was to sit in on a few missions during spring break! Is that too much to ask? This is my future, shouldn’t I jump at every opportunity to train?!” Alan explains. I put down the penny on the white nightstand beside me and sigh, running a hand over the soft blanket on top of my bed. My father gave me this blanket when I started boarding school in third grade. It’s worn, with a few holes and stains from years of service, but it’s a little piece of home. In the beginning, it was a reminder of the home I loved so dearly. Now, it reminds me of how much I’ll miss this school while I’m gone. Most kids love spring break, but not me. I only have two weeks at home, which is enough time to adjust to living at home again. Then, in the blink of an eye, home is ripped away again. I love summer and winter break, but spring and fall can sometimes be tough for me to swallow. Most years, during fall and spring break, I want to stay instead of go home. Not that I’d ever tell my family.
“Too bad you didn’t try for an accelerated course, like me. Then you would graduate in one year.” Alan only rolls his eyes. When we were ready for high school, the school I was at gave me a test. At the time, I thought it was just another standardized test, but a few days later, I was offered a full-tuition scholarship to one of the best boarding schools in the United States. Turns out my intelligence is “above average”. When Alan starts his senior year, I will have completed high school plus a year of college. At the age of sixteen. An entire year of college. College. Another daunting prospect.
“Not all of us can be geniuses, Jezebel. Take pity on us common folk.” Alan spits back, still seething. Despite being at opposite ends of the country, I could practically feel the heat rolling off of him. Under his playful tone, I detect jealousy. We had always been on the same level, which was a comfort to him. My fast-track through high school, though, put us on different levels. He would be the boy left behind. As far as he knows, I will join the Thunderbirds right after high school, making him the last person in my family in school. We’re no longer on the same level, and it bugs him. I’m not trying to be rude, but it’s the truth, and one I’m well aware of.
But he, like everyone in my family, doesn't know my deepest, darkest secret. The thought is always in the recesses of my mind, tugging at my heart whenever I think of home. The Thunderbirds serve a vital role in this world. Because of my family, thousands of lives have been saved. I should be grateful for the chance to join the Thunderbirds’ ranks, to serve others, to make the world a better place. But I’m not, because, when all is said and done, I don’t want to be a Thunderbird.
“Oh please! You’re much more inept at rocket science than I will ever be, and we both know it. You’ll be flying circles around me in no time.” I retort. From early on, my brother showed a unique aptitude for the science that is vital for operating these machines. While I’ve always been able to grasp the concept, Alan has thrived. It’s his passion, make no mistake. One day, he’ll be a legendary Thunderbird. I, on the other hand, will be average. I can pilot any one of those Thunderbirds in emergencies, but my interests lie elsewhere. Of course, no one in my family knows that, either.
“Just be patient, Alan. You’ll get your chance soon enough.” I say in a placating voice. Alan sighs yet again, but I can tell some of his anger has worn off.
“Alright.” He finally concedes. I fleetingly wonder how long his agreement will last. A few days at most.
“It’s almost time for lights out here, so I need to go. I’ll see you in a few days.” I tell him. He nods absentmindedly, probably thinking about rocket science and trajectories. “Love you.”
“Love you, too, sis.”