You don’t hear much about triplets, identical ones at that. Blue eyes, light brown hair, fair skin, all three the same. The oldest of us is Breony. For those of you reading (i:e: you could be listening) that is pronounced Bree-on-e. Her sport (another sporty) is soccer. She was captain of her team at our old school. I’m in the middle. Name: Naomi. Sport: volleyball (AN: originally said track, followed by “They say Scot-Irish people can run. I’ll take a bow. There were no team captains for track at my old school. So I wasn’t. But if there was . . .”) I was team captain for volleyball at my old school. The youngest is Jessiey. (AN: Originally said “Mare. Not like the horse, but pronounced Mar-e. Not Maree or Mary.) People say she has the looks even if we’re identical. I’ll admit she does have a glow that seems to surround her in whatever we do. And she looks good in whatever she wears. But the weirder thing is that, although guys think she’s pretty she’s never been asked out. Breony has twice and I have once. How do I now? We tell each other everything. Jessiey is in sports too. At our old school she was a cheerleader and head of the gymnastics team. She was offered editor of the school newspaper but turned it down saying she’d rather write. But oddly enough she doesn’t have many friends. She had a best friend once, named Ashley. Ashley was diagnosed with cancer and died when they were 10. When we moved we were 13 and she hadn’t had a friend since. When I say a friend I mean outside of home. Because obviously we were best friends.

The last member of our family was Major, our old black lab. He was very old. At the time when we moved he was 14. (Crossed out: “Black labs usually live to twelve.”) Major was more Jessie’s dog than anybody’s. In body he was the family but in heart he was hers. They always played together. He slept at the foot of Jessiey’s bed. He sat beside her at dinner and I caught her sneaking table scraps to him once. The house, er. . . not house we moved into was large. Or course I guess all farms are. Our mom’s a veterenarian and our dad owns three pet shops. So I guess Major wasn’t the last of our family. We had horses, cows, pigs, chickens, roosters, etc. Each kid has a different responsibility. Tommie and Molly have house chores. Breony takes care of the pigs. I take care of the garden. Jessiey took care of every other animal. I guess because at the time she had more free time than anybody else. She exersised the horses and took the cattle to the pasture. She gathered the chicken eggs and fed the occasional stray cat. At the time of the move Jessiey complained with the rest of us. But I think that in her heart she was glad we were moving. The farm was huge, more like a ranch in some parts. Ofcourse there was the main land with the house, barn and farmland. Go back about 12-acres- and you come to the cow’s pasture. All inbetween is meadow and shrubland. After the cow’s pasture you have some forest and then the land drops off into a big valley. We owned half the valley, neighbors owned the other half.

The house was two stories high and then an attic. Jessiey had the attic. I have to say that since Jessiey was youngest she was spoiled. But me and Breony were spoiling her too. At the time I was not very excited about moving. I had not wanted to leave California. I did love my new room on the second floor. It was right beside Breony’s and we had (unknown to our parents) drilled three holes in the top corners of me and Breony’s room and they led right beside Jessiey’s bed. We looped strings through them and tied cans to the ends. Thus we had our own telephone system. Kinda old fashioned but what can I say?

I walked into school that morning with as much confidence as I could muster. Jessiey followed close behind with her braids swishing as she looked around. Breony walked beside Jessiey, keeping an eye on me. Mom had registered the day before so all we had to do was find our lockers. Our books would be in there with our scedules.

We came to what later became known as the parting of the ways. Breony went left, I went right and Jessiey kept straight. It didn’t take me long to find my locker and my first class was right beside it. I crossed my fingers and walked in.

Written age 11/12
Note that clearly when I originally started writing this store, even though Naomi was the narrator, I was definitely the youngest and I loved myself the best, haha. Not long after, I went back and just changed the name Mare to Jessiey to be honest with myself.

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