Throwing Rocks At Beehives

After leaving their home one rainy night in a panic, Jenny and Mia Waters, identical twins, have to start a new life, living in a fourplex on the outskirts of a town they’ve never heard of, surrounded by mysterious characters, their lives unraveling slowly.
It was on that miserable autumn evening when Jenny, Mia and their mom came home and found their dad in bed with their neighbor, that the course of their lives changed forever.
Plucked from their home, they drove for hours in the rain on an unfamiliar highway. Their mother, inconsolable, did her best to keep the car on the road as they headed for a nameless town. They were starting over.
In the early light of daybreak, it was obvious that they had no idea where they were. They had gone from living in a large suburban house, surrounded by grass and other large, suburban homes to a cramped, tiny two-bedroom apartment on the edge of an utterly unremarkable town. Everything about their surroundings was new, startling to their sets of identical eyes.
As winter bore down, out of a fog that only seemed to appear at night, a new family moved into the apartment downstairs. At first, the father seemed stern and proud. The mother was quick moving but quiet. The son, he was a dreamer. He swayed to music that no one else could hear. That first night, he stood in the same place on the lawn for hours. People milled around him, moving furniture, but he didn’t stop his movements or notice anyone or anything.
At once, the girls were mesmerized. They loved his feathered hair and cold eyes. They loved his aloof manner, his sexy swaying. It was all too much for their twelve-year-old minds, hearts and bodies.
Anxious to find out more about him, they spied on their new neighbours, quickly figuring that the noises they heard daily weren’t good ones. They were horrific. The father beat his son. They battled every day, yet the son never said a word. He was always silent as he was punched and dragged around the apartment.
At school, the boy from downstairs appeared suddenly. He slinked through the hallways, appearing to float some inches from the ground. Everybody loved him. All the girls wanted him. The only person he ever acknowledged, though, was Jenny.
Spring came and she saw him in the early morning standing on the front lawn, waiting for her. The first time Jenny and him were together on that cool morning, they took a walk into the abandoned subdivision where he had set up a home away from home. They began to meet there daily, rarely talking, sometimes holding hands but never saying anything. Jenny was excited, because this was her secret. No one, not even Mia knew about their meetings; how he held her hand, put his arm around her. But never did it feel wrong. Jenny felt he was just looking for love, a sympathetic heart.
On one hot and still summer morning, Jenny clutched a note from him as she rode her bike across town. The note told her to meet him at the town’s football field at dawn. There they sat in the middle of the field, his hand on hers as they faced the sun. He didn’t say anything as he moved his hands all over her. She didn’t complain about being twelve and losing her virginity. Added up, it was awkward and over quickly, and to her it seemed like a dream. Afterwards, she slept and he left without a sound, but not before giving her his Walkman.
The smell told everyone in the apartment building that something was wrong. Jason was no where to be found, and Jenny was the only person in the world who held the key to this little secret, all recorded on the tape left in the Walkman.