When Lumen was born, everyone thought he was going to be perfect. Nine pounds exactly, smooth baby skin, and a little fuzz of blonde hair all across his head; in his parents’ minds, the ideal infant. His mother was so pleased with her new son that she hardly even noticed giving birth to his twin. Everyone knew that Lumen was going to be the golden boy of the family.

But, though those first few days were some of the family’s happiest, the next were some of the most heartbreaking. Lumen died only three days after he was born, due to an unexpected heart failure. His parents cried for the son they never got to know, and clung tight to little Albus, a tiny baby who wailed loudly throughout the funeral.

You would have thought that the family’s grief would have gradually subsided. Not they wouldn’t always be sad and sorry, of course, but you would have expected them to pour their energy into making a safe and happy home for little Albus. And they tried; they really did. But somehow, every time the mother went to feed Albus or the father went to change his diaper, they couldn’t help but start thinking about the life that could have been. They would talk to their living baby about his twin, showering onto Lumen every praise that could have existed if you’d only known someone for three days. Thus, although he was an only child, Albus grew up in his immortalized brother’s shadow.


The first time Albus saw Lumen, he was three years old. The other children huddled in groups, playing with blocks or eating their snacks, but Albus stood alone. He knew, somehow, that he was different from the other kids and that they wouldn’t want to play with him. He sat pensively on a stack of nap-time cots, thinking about what to do.

Suddenly, another child approached him. Albus hadn’t noticed him before which was surprising because something about this boy just begged to be noticed. He was very handsome, with wavy blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a sweet yet mischievous smile. He seemed to radiate confidence, so much so that Albus could almost detect a faint golden aura surrounding him. The only thing that kept this little boy from looking absolutely perfect was his pallor, which was as pale as a marble statue.

“Wanna play?” the boy asked Albus. “I got some dress up clothes!” He reached out his hands, which were buried in a mass of colorful fabric.

Albus was surprised and a little suspicious at this offer, but the dress up clothes weren’t much fun to play with by yourself. “Okay,” he said, pulling on a black cape.

They played for hours, pretending and laughing in the costume corner. The little boy was the good king and Albus was the bad guy, trying to destroy the kingdom. The two boys were sucked into the game, filling it with as many twists and turns as their toddler minds could think of.

“Nap time!” the teacher finally called. Albus began removing his costume. He noticed that his playmate wasn’t doing the same.

“It’s nap time!” whispered Albus. “You gotta stop playing now!” But the other boy had vanished.


The boy came back to play at the same time the next day, and the day after that. He and Albus built with blocks, painted with their fingers, and looked at picture books, but their favorite thing to do was always the pretending game. Together, they crafted a world of bravery, magic, and mystery. But Albus could never solve the real mystery of how the boy vanished. “How do you disappear before nap time?” he asked, one day.

The other boy simply shrugged. Albus accepted his answer, and they continued their game. When you’re three, you just trust that some things can’t be explained.


Albus and Lumen would have gone on playing together every day if it wasn’t for the parent-teacher conference. Mrs. McHannon, who prided herself on educating preschoolers for over thirty years, reported that Albus was doing fine, but she was worried that he wasn’t making friends

“Are you sure?” asked the father, doubtfully. “When Albus comes home every day, he always tells us about the adventures he’s had with one of his friends.”

“Oh, you mean his imaginary friend!” cried Mrs. McHannon. “Yes, Albus created an imaginary friend. They do everything together. When we do painting, he always asks for an extra piece of paper so that his “friend” can have one too. It’s actually quite adorable.”

Judging by the looks on the parents faces, they did not find the prospect of imaginary friends so adorable. “Next time you see Albus playing with his pretend friend, please tell him to stop.” said the mother firmly.

“Are- are you sure?” asked Mrs. McHannon. “Many children have imaginary friends at Albus’s age. And Albus has grown so attached to his friend; I think he’d be very upset it I told him to stop.”

“Yes, we’re sure,” answered the father. “Thank you for meeting with us.” Then they both shook her hand, and walked out of the room together, stiffly.

“Poor things,” thought Mrs. McHannon after they had left. “They’re so young, but already they have that sadness… that remoteness about them.”



On the following day, Mrs. McHannon told Albus to please not play with his imaginary friend. It didn’t matter; the boy didn’t show up anyway. Albus wouldn’t see his twin again for another five years.


Loner, outsider, black sheep. These were the words that came to mind when Albus’s elementary school teachers remembered their strange student. They didn’t use these words on the report cards, of course; they called Albus independent, unique and a free thinker. But they knew, deep down in their hearts, that there was something truly odd about this boy.

Well, Albus certainly looked odd. His skin was unnaturally pale, and teachers were often tempted to ask if he needed to go the the nurse. The pale skin was offset by a mop of mahogany hair, which was always getting into Albus’s eyes. The hair prevented many people from truly seeing Albus’s eyes, but the few who looked closely knew that his irises were inky pools of black, fringed by dark lashes. Along with having an eerie face, Albus was as skinny as a rod. It hadn’t been so startling when he was a toddler, but now that Albus’s baby fat had worn off, he was the most scrawny little third grader anyone had ever seen.

The other kids in class mostly steered clear of Albus. He wasn’t bullied or made fun of to his face, but the whispers and silence were even worse. It was like no one knew that Albus existed… and when they bothered to notice, they thought he was a creep or a weirdo. In fact, the only time Albus got to interact with other kids was when the teacher assigned partners on projects. Even then, Albus and his partner would talk as little as possible. But that would soon change.


She was one of those children who go around beaming happiness. If you were sitting next to her, or even in the same room with her, she couldn’t help but lift her mood.

She was named Sophia, but everyone called her Sunny. She moved from California to Minnesota in early January, and somehow she managed to bring the sunshine and good feelings with her. Within her first day at Wilewood Elementary, a gaggle of friends surrounded Sunny, talking and laughing with their new, lighthearted classmate.

Albus watched the new girl do in thirty minutes what he had failed to do in four years. He knew that he should resent Sunny’s popularity, but somehow he couldn’t. Albus couldn’t help but admire her optimism and constant smile. So he watched from afar, hoping that someday he might have the nerve to introduce himself to Sunny.

That day was sooner than anyone expected. Albus only had to wait a few hours before the opportunity came.

“Okay, boys and girls, we’re doing an art project now.” announced Mrs. Rutherford, once her students had filed in from recess. The room filled with excited chatter.
“Quiet down, quiet down. Now, as you know, just a few weeks ago was the beginning of a new year! At the end of every year, it’s important to recognize things we can do to make the next year even better. So I want you to get with a partner and draw one thing that both of you could improve to help create an excellent year.”
Albus knew he was a goner the minute Mrs. Rutherford said “partner”. There was an odd number of kids in the class, and he was always the one who had to work with the teacher or be lumped into an ungrateful group of three. He sighed and waited for Mrs. Rutherford to approach him.
“Do you want to work together?” asked a girlish voice, clearly not Mrs. Rutherford. Albus looked up, and found himself staring into warm, brown eyes. “Everyone else paired up already,” said Sunny. “So what do you think? Want to be partners?”
Albus could only nod. “Come on!” Sunny said, grinning. “I’ll get the paper, you get the markers. Last one back to your desk is a rotten egg!” She streaked off like a comet, with golden hair trailing behind her.
Albus and Sunny worked diligently on the project. Sunny smiled the whole time, seemingly oblivious to the pitying looks that the other girls were giving her. Soon, Albus forgot the rest of the class too, and found himself giggling at Sunny’s stories and jokes. It was the first day he enjoyed school.
“Yay!” exclaimed Sunny, drawing the final line with a flourish. “We finished the project!”
“It looks great.” admitted Albus, and he meant it. Sunny’s enthusiasm combined Albus’s artistic skill made for a very impressive picture. The two kids high-fived, the first of what would be many gestures of friendship.

That night, a familiar face visited Albus’s dreams. It was the boy; the same boy who played with Albus in preschool. He had grown taller and more muscular, but he still had the golden hair, beautiful eyes, and pale skin. The two boys sat alone in Albus’s classroom.
“I remember you!” shouted Albus. “But who are you? Why didn’t you come back?”

“I couldn’t come back,” answered the boy, his voice thick with emotion. “I wanted to, but I couldn’t. I don’t understand how it works… sometimes they let me come, but sometimes they don’t,”
“Who are you talking about when you say they?” asked Albus. “Your parents?”
The boy began to answer, but before he could complete his first word, his body grew rigid. The boy’s eyes grew wide and his mouth froze mid-syllable.
“Wha-what happened?” asked Albus. The boy gazed at him silently. Albus reached out to poke him experimentally, but as soon as flesh touched flesh, the other boy vanished.

At fifteen years old, Albus was a sullen teenager who would not have looked out of place in a vampire movie. His face was more pasty than ever, a spot of light against the dark clothing that Albus always wore. His ears drooped with the burden of carrying a plethora of spiky earrings. Albus’s limp hair had darkened to a jet-black, except for a single bright-red streak that stood out like fire against darkness.
Most people people who bothered to notice Albus called him “emo”, but he knew it wasn’t really true. He wasn’t into anime or deep poetry, but “emo” was a good excuse to be moody and silent. So Albus accepted his role as the silent, dark child, living as an outsider to his peers.

His parents were not at all pleased to see their remaining son so sullen and removed. Neither of them had any great love for Albus, but they didn’t want their son to be friendless.

“What do we do?” asked the mother one day, wringing her hands in despair. “I feel like I hardly even know him anymore!”

“Sweetheart, don’t worry,” replied her husband, though secretly he was just as anxious as she. “It’s normal for teenagers to go through phases like this,”

“But that’s just the thing!” shouted the mother. “Albus is NOT a normal teenager! He never does anything… no sports, no school clubs, not even the video games that we got him. And he doesn’t have any friends! Not a single one!” She began to sob.

“There there,” said the father, patting her back awkwardly. “Now that’s not true. Albus may not have loads of friends, but he’s got Sunny,”

Just hearing the name made Albus’s mother cheer up a little. They both knew that Albus could not ask for a better friend; sweet, smart, pretty, and (most importantly) normal.

The mother dabbed at her tears. “I-I suppose you’re right,” she said. “Sunny is a great friend to Albus. I just wish he had a couple more friends, maybe who were boys, as well,”

Albus’s parents looked at each other. Neither one said anything, but they were both thinking the same thing. Lumen would have had friends, loads of them. He would have played sports and joined clubs and worn brand-name clothes. Husband and wife collapsed onto each other, mourning (not for the first time) the son they didn’t have.


Albus and Sunny walked side by side, tan skin next to pale. Their arms brushed against each other, and Albus felt a shiver go up his spine. He tried to join in with Sunny’s carefree laughter, wondering if she felt the same thing he did.

“So Sunny, do you want to come over today?” Albus asked, cursing inside when his voice cracked on “today”.

Sunny’s pink lips formed a regretful pout. “Sorry Al, but I can’t today. I’m going over to Ellie’s house to work on a project, and then I’ve got a voice lesson.”

“Oh,” replied Albus. He felt like a deflated balloon. “How about tomorrow then?”

“I’ve got cheerleading practice,” she said, sadly. “It’s on Wednesday and Thursday too; there’s a big game on Friday, so Coach wants us to be super-prepared. Maybe you could come to the game…?” Sunny smiled hopefully.

Inside his head, Albus grimaced. Crowds, sports, and lots of shouting were three of his least favorite things. However, he would get to see Sunny...

“Well, bye Al!” said Sunny. Albus gave a start, surprised to have already reached the corner where their walks split off. He waved, and watched the beautiful girl with the long hair and sundress flounce off behind him.


When Albus arrived home, he found a stranger lying on his bed. It was a teenager, about his own age, sprawling his lanky limbs across the pillows and sheets as if they belonged to him. His face was buried in the covers, but Albus could just detect a strand or two of golden blonde hair.
The blonde hair, the athletic build… suddenly, Albus knew who was in his bed. The moment he had his revelation, the boy gave a yawn and sat looked up sluggishly.
“Sorry, dude,” he said to Albus, grinning. “I guess I got a little tired there.” He stretched out his arms and slowly sat up, but showed no sign of leaving the bed.

The two boys stared at each other for a minute. Albus shifted uncomfortably, but the other boy looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something.

“I know you’ve visited me before,” said Albus, finally. “I remember playing with you in preschool, and I’ve seen flashes of you a couple other times. You’ve also been in some of my dreams… they usually happen around my birthday, I think. But who are you?”

The teenager stared at him, as if he just declared that the sky was green. “You didn’t know? I thought you were supposed to be the brainy one!” When Albus didn’t react, the boy’s handsome face became more serious. “Okay, Albus, this is going to come as a shock, but I’m your brother. I’m Lumen.”

The golden aura that had always surrounded the boy suddenly pulsed, and he morphed into a figure of light that illuminated the Albus’s dark room. Then the light faded, and he was back, looking like he always had.
Albus took the opportunity to scrutinize his twin. They looked absolutely nothing alike. Lumen was tall and muscular, while Albus was as short and small as he’d always been. Lumen’s face looked like a photoshopped version of the teenage popstar that Sunny and the other girls at school were always fawning over. His hair was perfectly uncombed and his turquoise eyes were bright and mischievous.The only similarity between the two boys was their unnaturally pale pallor.
“Yeah, we sure don’t look like twins.” said Lumen, as if he could read Albus’s mind. “But we are brothers.” He sighed impatiently. “You don’t believe me, do you.”

“I believe you,” said Albus, softly. It was true that Lumen didn’t look like Albus’s twin, but he did look like the golden boy that their parents constantly reminisced about. Albus gulped. “But why are you here?”

“Our sixteenth birthday is on Friday,” announced Lumen, as if he was confessing something of great importance. Albus rolled his eyes, but Lumen went on as confidently as before. “At 6:48 PM, the time we were born, a portal will open between the world of the living and the world of the dead. If we want to, we can choose to switch places.”
Albus’s mouth dropped open. “Wh-what do you mean?”
Lumen sighed, annoyed that Albus couldn’t understand this simple concept. “We can switch places,” he repeated. “I become the living one, you become the ghost.”
Albus took a few deep breaths, and tried to regain his composure. “So, I can choose whether to live or die?”
Lumen nodded.
“Well, I’m pretty sure you know my answer.” He turned around, and dashed towards the door, desperate to get away from his creepy ghost of a brother.
Lumen jumped off the bed and ran to Albus. “Wait!” he yelled. Albus gave no sign that he had heard him. Lumen sighed, and snapped his fingers.

Immediately, Albus fell down as if smacked by an invisible force. “Listen, bro,” said Lumen, in a voice as hard as a rock. “I’ve been dead for almost sixteen years. I’ve tried to visit you tons of times, but this is the only time I’ve been able to tell you anything important. The least you can do for me is hear me out.”

Albus slowly got up and followed Lumen back to the bed. The twins sat next to each other, in an awkward silence. Suddenly, Lumen began to speak.

“It’s not that bad, you know. Being dead, I mean. You can still see people who are important to you. And sometimes you can even visit them, like I visited you.”

The blanket of silence returned, enveloping the two boys. Albus perched his head on his fist and thought about everything Lumen had told him. Switching places seemed impossible and dangerous; bargaining with death always seemed to have its consequences. And yet… could Albus really give his twin a second chance at life? Could he save Lumen from eternal darkness, give him a chance in the spotlight?

Albus turned to face his twin. “If we switch, will anyone still remember me? Will they know that I suddenly disappeared, and why?”

For the first time Albus could remember, Lumen’s face was sympathetic. When he spoke, his voice sounded soft and regretful. “No, they won’t. You’d become the baby that died at birth. All of their memories of you would be erased, and replaced with memories about me.”
A single tear rolled out of Albus’s dark eyes. Lumen patted him on the back.
“I know it seems cruel,” he continued. “But it’s actually better if the memories are erased. That way, there’s so pain or sad goodbyes; only life at it has always been.”
Albus just looked at him, his face still wet with tears. For once, confident Lumen was at a loss for words. He seemed to be struggling between using persuasion and sympathy. Finally he spoke.
“Albus, I know this is probably really hard for you. It’s hard for me too; I don’t want to make anyone die, especially if they haven’t done anything wrong. But I think you and I both know that I belong with the living.”
He paused and gave a little sniff.
“You’ve had almost sixteen years of life, but they haven’t really amounted to much. Our parents never understood you, the teachers were a little afraid of you, and you just didn’t fit in with the other kids. I could live a great, rewarding life… live it for both of us now.”
The twins stared at each other, blue eyes boring into black. “Albus, this decision is up to you. I can’t force you to switch places if you don’t want to. I’ll come back to hear your decision in three days.”
Lumen slid off the bed and began striding towards the door. Suddenly, he turned back around, facing his brother.
“Please, Albus. I deserve a life.”
With those words, he vanished.

Most people didn’t notice the change in Albus’s behavior that took place in the days after Lumen’s visit. To them, he went through life as he always had; slowly, routinely, and without much excitement. But inside Albus’s head, wheels were turning, debating the same decision hour after hour after hour.
Friday seemed to come too quickly. Albus tried to distract himself, but nothing seemed to make him forget that he was only postponing the inevitable. At four o’clock on Friday afternoon, Albus lay in his bed, still unsure of his decision.
Suddenly, his parents burst into the room, with exuberant looks on their faces. “Albus, honey, come on!” shouted the mother, approaching her son. “Tonight’s the big game! We’re all going to go see Sunny cheer.”
“But mom…” began Albus, unsure of how to say why he had to remain at home. He was waiting for someone? Waiting for death, more like it. But if Lumen could find Albus at the preschool, he could find him at the stadium. Albus might as well enjoy the night, if he ended deciding it was going to be his last.
Albus gazed up at his parent’s faces. They were whispering to each other, trying to figure out whether it was worth it to make their unobedient son go with them to a football game. Albus felt a twang of pity. Sure, his parents were never exactly warm and sunny, but he had never made an effort to try to please them either. He might as well do it now.
“Actually, Mom and Dad, I’d love to come.” Albus gave a forced smile, which became genuine as his parents smiled tentatively back.
“Well, great Albus,” said his mother, sounding a little surprised. Suddenly, she swooped down onto Albus’s bed and engulfed him in a hug. Albus felt his muscles tense up, and then relax. His mother’s arms offered were like a wall of protection, and for a moment Albus felt completely at ease.
The hug was over as quickly as it had come. Albus’s mother stood back up and brushed off her designer jeans, looking a little shocked. “Meet us downstairs in five minutes,” she said, in her no-nonsense voice. Then she and Albus’s father walked out of the room, arm in arm

Westside High School prided themselves on having some of the finest sports programs in the country, along with a crew of supportive parents and students. When the Friday football game against their biggest rival rolled around, the school was practically in a frenzy. Teachers could hardly focus, and most just ended up letting their classes have a study period. The football players and cheerleaders were missed school altogether, and instead attended a full-day practice.
The game started at 4:30. Albus and his parents arrived at about 4:15, but the bleachers were already packed. They ended up being squished between a former Westside football player, who criticized every move, and a group of freshman girls that kept giggling and pointing to the quarterback. Albus’s parents were actually watching the game, but Albus only had eyes for one person. He kept staring at the huddling cheerleaders, looking for the petite, blonde-haired girl that he knew so well.
The game was agonizing for both fans and the players. The teams were so well matched that no one could predict what would happen. By halftime, the air was thick with the screams of the audience and the coaches, and the loud cries of the cheerleaders. Albus tried to block out the clamor, but it remained an interminable pulse in his head. This was what he hated; the noise, the crowds, the way people got all worked up and angry for no reason. Why did people have to act like this? And why couldn’t he just go along with it?
By 6:30, Albus felt like he was about to explode. The shouting and crying had grown to the point where the cheerleaders’ megaphones were useless. Albus felt like he was being swarmed with millions of loud, annoying, pesky flies.
And then, the noise stopped. Everyone’s mouths were still moving, but no words came out. Albus felt like a weight was lifted off his soldiers.
“It’s nice, right?” asked the boy next to him. Albus nodded absentmindedly, soaking in the peaceful silence. “It’s kind of like this all the time, when you’re dead.”
Albus swivelled his head, and came face to face with Lumen. With all the noise, he had completely forgotten about the visit. Lumen went on talking, unaware of Albus’s surprise.
“Wow, those guys aren’t too bad,” he said, gesturing to the football players. His voice was as light and smooth as usual, but Albus could detect a faint trace of longing. He knew that there was a message hidden in those words. Lumen clearly wished that he could be out there, playing football, the center of everyone’s attention.
“Well, have you made your decision?” asked Lumen, staring at Albus intently.
Albus took a long, deep breath. “Yes,” he said. “I choose to swi-”
Out of the corner of his eye, Albus saw a flash of long, golden, hair. It was Sunny, who had been tossed into the air, and now seemed to be flying like a fairy. Her red and gold cheerleader skirt puffed up around her legs, making her look like a magical ballerina. She smiled joyously, and Albus’s heart felt like it was pricked by a pin.
Lumen was watching Sunny too, transfixed by her glowing beauty. Albus heard him say “wow,” under his breath.
“Stop it,” said Albus, suddenly.
“What do you mean?” asked Lumen, tearing his eyes away from Sunny, and back to his brother.
“Stop getting everything you want! You already have confidence, and good looks and our parent’s love… just stop trying to want more!”
“Look who’s saying I have everything I want!” shouted Lumen, full of rage. “You have a life! You have a chance to make something of yourself! I only exist in memories. Can’t you see?”
He calmed down a little and went on. “Albus, you got your childhood. You got to grow and play and learn. I could never do any of those things; I could only watch.”
“But that’s all I was ever doing!” returned Albus. “I was only watching too! I wasn’t a part of everything… I was the outsider.”
“If you were only an outsider in life, then why is it such a big deal to be the same thing, only dead? It’s no different! You can still watch… watch even more closely, because you don’t have to participate! You can see things you couldn’t possibly have access to in life. Albus, do this for me. You lose nothing, but you save a life.”

A teenage boy, just turned sixteen, walked happily out of his school’s football game. He chatted with his friend cute friend Sunny and joked around with his parents. And for the first time, he truly felt sorry for what his brother didn’t get to do.