CHAPTER 1
THE GATHERING STORM
CLAUDIA
Here is some background information about The War:
My name is Claudia Tapper. I live in New York City, and I have two goals in life: I either want to be a famous singer-songwriter like Miranda Fleet, or the President of the United States.
Or both, if I have time.
My brother’s name is Reese. He has no goals in life. Unless you count being a professional soccer player, which is totally unrealistic.
We are, unfortunately, twins. I am twelve years old. Reese is six.
I know what you’re thinking. “Really? Is that possible?”
No. It’s not. Reese is twelve, too.
He just has the brain of a six-year-old. A six-year-old that ate too much sugar and did not get its nap, so it has to run around our apartment and kick soccer balls against the wall and make noises like “GRONK!” and “SKADOOSH!”
Honestly, living with him is the most annoying thing ever. It’s a pretty small apartment.
We live on the Upper West Side. But we go to school at Culvert Prep, which is across Central Park on the Upper EAST Side. My parents like to say the Upper West Side is more “down to earth.” As far as I can tell, this basically means our neighborhood has more burger places, and not as many stores that sell $800 shoes. (Which, BTW, is insane. The shoes aren’t even that cute.)
Culvert Prep is academically excellent, so there’s no way Reese could have gotten in if he hadn’t started going there in kindergarten. At that age, it’s very hard for the admissions office to tell if a kid will turn out to be a total meathead.
Mom and Dad think Reese is perfectly smart, and he just needs to apply himself. They’re wrong, but it’s not worth arguing with them. If they had to admit the truth about their meathead son, it would make them incredibly sad.
And Dad is sad enough already, because he is a lawyer.
Anyway, back to Culvert Prep, which is where The War started.
To be totally specific, it started in the Culvert Prep cafeteria on Monday, September 8th, at approximately 8:27am. That’s when Reese—in front of basically the whole sixth grade—launched a cruel and senseless sneak attack on me.
REESE
It didn’t start at school. It started in our kitchen that morning, when Claudia ate my toaster pastry.
CLAUDIA
That is SO not true. It wasn’t even yours.
REESE
Yes, it was! There’s six in a package. We each get three. And I only had two!
CLAUDIA
I only had two, too.
REESE
Liar!
CLAUDIA
It’s true! I think Dad eats them when he gets home at night.
REESE
All I know is, brown sugar cinnamon’s my favorite. And there was ONE left, and it was MINE.
And I was lying in bed, thinking, “Oh, man, I can’t wait to narf that toaster pastry!”
Then I go into the kitchen, and you’re, like, stuffing your face with it! And when I got mad, you laughed at me!
CLAUDIA
A) “Narf” is not even a word. And B) this is completely irrelevant.
REESE
It’s totally revelant!
CLAUDIA
Relevant.
REESE
Whatever! It’s important! I NEVER would’ve made fun of you in the cafeteria if you hadn’t eaten my toaster pastry! And then laughed at me about it!
The whole thing was your fault!
CLAUDIA
That is ridiculous. I’m not putting it in the book.
REESE
You HAVE to! It’s the whole reason the war started!
CLAUDIA
No way. Not going in. It’s MY book.
REESE
Then I quit. Do your own stupid interviews. I’m going to go play MetaWorld. Ed. Note: site of major battle (like Gettysburg or Waterloo)
CLAUDIA
Reese!
Augh! Fine. I’ll put it at the end. Like a footnote or something.
REESE
No way. It goes in the actual book. Right at the beginning! This exact argument.
CLAUDIA
That’ll ruin the whole thing! Have you ever SEEN an oral history?
REESE
I don’t even know what one is.
CLAUDIA
It’s like, different people telling a story in their own words. But nobody, like, stops to argue with each other in the middle of it. ESPECIALLY not at the beginning.
REESE
This is supposed to be the true story of what happened, right? And you’re recording it. So you have to put in EVERY WORD I’m saying. Or your book is a big skronking Ed. Note: also not a real word lie, and I quit.
CLAUDIA
I hate you.
REESE
Duh.