My Twin Sister And Me: A scout always does her best!

By Emiliya Ahmadova

Readers' Favorite five star rated

Glue on the windowsill and toothpaste in the shoes. Who did the deed? 

At school, Julieta is being mocked for the freckles on her face and her crooked teeth. Forgetting her own plight, however, she stands up to a bully, Claudius, in order to protect her friend Montano fro

• Language: English
• Publisher: Womens Voice Publishing House
• Release date: Apr 3, 2018
• ISBN: 9798869289025

Emiliya Ahmadova

Emiliya Ahmadova was born in the city of Baku, the capital of Azerbaijan. When she was just nine years old, she developed a passion for reading, literature, poetry, and foreign languages. In high school, she participated in and won many poetry competitions. Starting at the age of ten, she began writing poems and short stories in Russian.   Emiliya has diplomas in business management as well as a Bachelor of Arts (B.A.) in human resources management. She also has international diplomas in the advanced study of the theory and practice of management, administration, business management, communication, hotel operations management, office management and administration, and professional English from the Cambridge International College, in addition to a certificate in novel writing. Emiliya speaks four languages (Azeri, Russian, English, and some Turkish), but her native language is Azeri. Because of her love for humanity and children, she has started volunteering in a local school and in 2011 became a Cub Scout leader and won a trophy as the first female parent leader. Emiliya likes being around people, adores travel, enjoys playing soccer, and relishes in helping other people.

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Table of Contents

My Twin Sister And Me: A Scout Always Does her Best!

MY UGLY FRECKLES!

HISTORY BEHIND OUR BIRTH

TOOTHPASTE IN THE SHOE

HOORAY! BRACES!

A SCOUT ALWAYS DOES HIS BEST

CAMPING ON THE HORIZON

BAZAAR

SCOUTING IN RUSSIA

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

BIOGRAPHY

My Twin Sister and Me:

A Scout Always Does Her Best!

by

Emiliya Ahmadova

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My Twin Sister And Me falls into the genre of Middle grade fiction, and the characters are fictional. Any similarity of my characters to living or dead persons is purely coincidental.

Age of readers: 9-13

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher or author, except in the case of very brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

All Rights Reserved.

Editor: Kathy Ree

Artist/illustrator: Marina Veter ([e-mail])

Website: www.emiliyaahmadova.com

Printed in U.S.A.

ISBN-10: 0-9986867-2-7

ISBN-13: 978-0-9986867-2-1 

Publisher: Women’s Voice Publishing House

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018903531

Copyright © 2018 by Emiliya Ahmadova.

I devote My Twin Sister and Me to my wonderful children, who inspired me to write this story.

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Contents

My Ugly Freckles!

History Behind Our Birth

Toothpaste In The Shoe

Hooray! Braces!

A Scout Always Does His Best

Camping on the Horizon

Bazaar

Scouting in Russia

Acknowledgement

Biography

MY UGLY FRECKLES!

My name is Julieta, and I’m a twelve-year-old girl with brown eyes and cropped black hair. I live with my two parents, my twin sister Rafaela, and a repulsive blonde-headed fifteen-year-old sister, Karla. My mother, Sophia, is a thin and relatively tall Spanish woman with jet-black hair and deep-brown eyes; my twin and I were blessed with her good looks. Our mother adores wearing enormous hats, long skirts, and sleeveless tops or dresses. Her jewellery accessories never cease to amaze me. In her collection of accessories, one finds all sorts of earrings, bracelets, and beads to match her garish choices in clothing. In addition, she boasts a big mouth that can be heard from all corners.

As soon as a few grey hairs emerged on her head, she instantly became frustrated and started to colour her hair to conceal them. Somewhat incongruously, my father also dyes his hair, which I’d only suspected until I once came upon him dying his beard with a shower cap on his head.

My jaw almost dropped to the floor upon seeing him, and I pointed my finger at his beard in a silent question, trying to figure out what possessed him to do this. I thought men were not allowed to dye their hair because it was a woman thing. I guess his short height, the little bald patches on his scalp, and his misshapen body made him feel insecure, especially since my mother held an esteemed position as a manager.

I suppose he worries that she might leave him for a wealthy foreign man and then move to another country. I heard that from one of his conversations over the phone. Therefore, he tries to look younger not only by wearing tight trousers and t-shirts, but also by dying his hair and beard every month and riding his motorcycle around the capital of Venezuela, Caracas.

Sometimes, just like my papa, I feel uneasy because of my appearance. But my concern is the dark brown freckles all over my face. I hate them! Why doesn’t my identical twin sister Rafaela have freckles? I am cursed with so many! They are just like little stars spread across the evening sky. It’s so unfair! I wish Dad would let me have them surgically removed. Instead, he just keeps repeating that they enhance my beauty like a bright, shining star.

However, I don’t like seeing ugly freckles sprinkled all over my face like an endless road. They just make me want to blurt out, Get them off my face! Occasionally, I try to conceal them with my mother’s foundation cream and powder, but they remain fully visible and still stand out, much to the amusement of my classmates.

Some have mocked and teased me for some time, especially Valeria, who always glares at my face and scowls. She is simply an unbearable BULLY, who has ridiculed me with the nickname Leopard Face—one that has subsequently become glued to me like sticky honey. Every time I leave my classroom, I hear someone calling out Leopard Face! in a snide tone.

I can’t comprehend why schools are becoming overpopulated with bullies like Valeria. She just goes around hurting other students’ feelings. This misconduct is rotten to the core. Why are bullies unable to understand that they are making our lives an intolerable HELL!?

A side note to bullies everywhere: I am not going to cry silently or hide episodes of bullying. I will raise my voice proudly and stand up for my right to be treated with respect. I will continue reporting to the principal and my parents until the bullying stops!

Or maybe I should design a Stop Bullying poster to support the victims and demonstrate with it beside the school’s gate. I wonder whether such an action might change Valeria’s unkind behaviour toward others and me. Yet, the answer remains BLANK. Maybe the principal should ask the school’s therapist to find out what causes this kind of behaviour and how to alter it!?

Anyway, whenever Valeria’s brain has a loose screw, she never fails to laugh at my misfortunes. I bite my lip and clench my hands into fists, only too ready to burst like a boiling kettle. I can barely keep myself from whacking Valeria right in her teeth. Indeed, I am certain that, if they break, it would make her shut her mouth and stop displaying her braces. However, violence serves only as a troublemaker by which someone might get hurt. Therefore, I just try to control my anger by inhaling deeply, counting to ten, and muttering to myself: Julieta, calm yourself down!

This girl purposely grins broadly just to show off the colourful metal braces on her white teeth, all the while aware that mine remain crooked. Most Venezuelans can’t afford braces unless they earn green bucks in the USA or work in Trinidad. My father’s sister, Aunty Lorenza, once mentioned that Valeria’s father got a job in America, which is why he is able to wire green bucks via Western Union back to Caracas. It’s therefore no wonder that Valeria always wears the most expensive and fashionable clothes in our neighbourhood.

I wish my Mama could get a job in the USA, as well. We could move to USA and live with our uncle Diego. America is a great country, and many people dream to live there. I heard that life there is fantastic but hectic, as people are always rushing about busy as buzzing bees. They have the best roller coasters, films, and circuses in the world, not to mention Disneyland and other wonderful places!

America’s residents and citizens come from many nations around the world; it is not unusual to come across Chinese, Indian, Russian, or African immigrants as you stroll along the streets. They even have Chinatown and the Statue of Liberty. It is so cool! I would love to take a few pictures of myself, wearing my blue cap and a white t-shirt, standing next to the Statue of Liberty. My father’s brother, Uncle Diego, posted such pictures from America once.

My uncle left Caracas three years ago and moved to Miami, leaving his job as a chef behind. However, as an illegal immigrant during his first year, he was only employed for small jobs such as cleaning toilets and working as a porter or a waiter. He even became a taxi driver for a short time but was fired for not knowing both the English language and the roads. Uncle complained that the roads in Miami are confusing, with so many turns and road signs. One wrong turn can force you to drive for an hour in the wrong direction, which happened to my uncle.

Uncle Diego said that many Spanish-speaking people live in Miami, especially in Hialeah Gardens, and some don’t even bother to learn English. Why should he?

After a long search for another job, he was hired as a chef’s assistant in a local Mexican restaurant. I just can’t wait until my uncle takes me there; however, my Granny Anthena once said that, in fact, it’s difficult to get a visa to the USA, so it may be a while. Americans are known to be overheard saying that we Spanish overstay our welcome in the USA by taking their precious jobs.

In any event, I must refer back to my unaffordable braces. You see, my two front teeth are slightly twisted and have a gap between them. When I smile, I look simply horrific. Most times, it looks as though my frowny facial expression says to people, Stay away from me! Rafaela’s teeth are also twisted, though in better condition than mine.

However, to my relief, my mom has been saving for many months to afford braces for us, as has Uncle Diego, who has promised to help her out.

Six months ago, Dad took us to the orthodontist to measure our teeth for braces, so that soon I will be getting them.  I’m looking forward to when I will be able to grin from ear to ear, especially when I chat with Nicolas.

He is so cute! He sits next to me in our classroom. You should see his long blond hair, which reaches almost to his shoulders. Yet, to his dismay, the length of his hair causes him trouble. The principal keeps asking his parents to cut his hair or keep him at home. Whenever Nicolas approaches my desk, he seems to shine, with a grin full of white teeth. But then he turns away and gazes at Valeria, who is rotten to the core. When she notices him looking at her, she flashes him a broad smile and throws her black hair in front of her shoulders to make herself more attractive. It just makes me want to scream and hit her.

Why her, and not me? I’m just as beautiful. Perhaps my freckles repulse him. I don’t know why most boys pay such attention to her and not to a simple girl like me. Is it because she is more girlish and has long thick hair and a clear face?

I have short hair and small earrings, which is feminine enough, but I fight and behave like a boy. I love to whistle, spit on the ground, play football, and run. So what? Don’t you do this sometimes? It’s fun!

Why are appearances and clothes more appreciated than anything else? What is wrong with people? Why can’t they learn to appreciate INNER beauty!

As I glare at Valeria, I’m filled with an urge to pull her hair and drag her outside. Yet, as usual, I sit silently, counting to ten to manage my sudden fury. I am beset by a type of poisonous jealousy that can drive one to be mean-spirited and thus destroy one’s peace of mind. My mother keeps saying that jealousy is a personality trait that one must absolutely avoid, but I find it impossible sometimes.

To my annoyance, a fat boy, Montano, seems to have a crush on me. As soon as I turn my back while sitting at my desk, he grins and gives me a look of longing. Once our eyes meet, he mumbles his words and I find it impossible to understand him. Whenever he approaches me, his cheeks always redden.

Then came the day that changed my indifferent attitude toward him.

During recess, he slowly walked from one side of the hall to the other while I talked with my friends Bella and Amanda. He bowed his head, trying not to look at anyone. His white shirt came out of his blue short pants, and his short red hair rose like a hedgehog’s spikes.

He stopped in the middle of the hall, fumbling as he tried to put his notebooks in his backpack. When our eyes met, Montano looked away, nervously touching his hair.

The next thing we knew, Claudius, a tall and broad-shouldered bully, bumped into him, making Montano’s

textbooks fall.

Hey, Fart Boy! Claudius sneered. Don’t move around the school as if you own it! He shoved Montano and strode away. I watched him as he stopped next to Mrs. Andra’s classroom to chat with other tormenters just like him. They stood by the door, gazing at Montano as their laughter echoed in my ears.

Montano stooped down and started gathering his 

notebooks. His short pants were so tight that I could see his red underwear.

As soon as he bent down, I heard the loud sound of a fart, which sounded just like a sudden gun shot.

YUCK! The air started smelling like a dead rat. My friends squinted their eyes and they began fanning with their hands in order to chase the foul air away.

Fart Boy! said Bella. She glared sourly at Montano and pinched her nose with her fingers.

Chuckling, my friends ran inside the classroom. I was going to follow their example, but upon seeing his shaky hands and watery eyes, I chose to show compassion toward him.

Hi Montano, I said.

Hello, he answered, without lifting his head.

I leaned forward and picked up his notebooks. I passed them to him, and both of us stood up. Blood seemed to rush from his face, and he suddenly appeared pale.

Are you okay? I asked, pitying him.

The unfortunate boy had always been mocked for being overweight and for his farting episodes. Occasionally, when I stood up for him, this made matters only worse for me. In addition to Leopard Face, I had been called Fart Boy’s girlfriend.

Although harassment by mockers burns me like a spicy pepper, I must do what is right. After all, no one has the right to hurt the feelings of others just because he or she looks different or has some sort of disability.

He glanced into my eyes. Not really. What did I do to them? They just keep treating me as if I am some kind of clown or weirdo. Is anything wrong with me?

Hey, Montano. Nothing is wrong with you. They are just angry and miserable children.

Montano’s copy book fell out of his shaky hand, and I picked it for him. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?

He didn’t even hesitate. "On Saturday, I’m going to see Star Wars. Can you come with me, please?" he asked, his eyes darting aside.

As soon as his words reached my ears, regret crawled into my soul. I could not go to a cinema with him. The name tag of Fart Boy’s girlfriend would stick with me until I graduated.

I became lost in thought, as if in a jungle filled with huge scary trees, unable to find a path. What if he farts again? That would be a huge and certain nightmare. On the other hand, in fact, people do fart accidentally. Why had I become so self-conscious?

My attention returned to Montano. His pleading eyes sent spikes and arrows into my heart. I didn’t know what to say.

Montano, I will...

He didn’t allow me to finish. My birthday is on Saturday, and I don’t have any friends to invite other than you, he mumbled. I hoped you might come. He hiccupped nervously.

My eyes circled around, searching for an excuse, and stopped on Claudius. The girl next to him started to whisper something into his