B00B9FX0MA EBOK (19 page)

“Adam, it’s Hayley.”

“I know,” Adam said flatly.

“Adam, listen —”

“I don’t know why you’re calling. We’re not friends. Not when you’re acting like this. And now you’re wandering around the school like some skank, you barely come to class, and you’re about to get thrown off Yearbook. Plus, you have the Ainsworth finalist interview, which even Mr. Klish thinks you don’t deserve … and why are you even calling me? Do you need me to bail you out from jail or something?” he said, laughing harshly.

“Adam, please listen. Please.” I clutched the edge of the desk. “I really need to talk.”

I heard Adam’s sharp intake of breath. In the background, coffee cups clanked, people laughed. Like everything was normal. “Hold on, I’m at the Ugly Mug. I’m heading outside.”

“Please don’t hang up,” I said in a small voice.

“Hayley! I promise I won’t. I promise. Okay? I’m outside. Now tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m in Maine,” I said. “The girl who’s pretending to be me is my twin. She was the one who made the Facebook page. She was the one in the guidance office that day. It was her. And now I’m in a mental institution, I don’t even know what she’s doing with Matt, and I don’t know what’s going on, and no one will believe me!”

A pause.

“Adam?”

“You’re in a
mental institution
?”

“Or something. It’s called Serenity.”

“So the girl I just saw is your
twin
? What?”

Footsteps echoed down the hallway.

“Yes. I’ll explain it all. But I have to go. Serenity Point in Maine. Look it up and please, please, please help me. Or stop her. Or just …”

The footsteps stopped. The doorknob turned. One black-clad sneaker, then another, stepped in.

“Jamie?” Dr. Taylor asked, sounding genuinely surprised to see me. “What are you doing here?” He was holding a thick file folder, the name
Sheila Neville
written on the front in ominous black letters.

His gaze fell to the phone, the bright display screen making it clear exactly what I’d been doing. He sighed.

“I don’t have time to handle this right now. And I don’t want you to lie to me. We will discuss this in your next session, but for now, I’m going to escort you to art therapy.”

I followed him out the door and down the hall, aware of each nurse glaring at me as I passed by. I knew that disobedience resulted in more medication, more mandatory therapy sessions. At this point, I’d never get out.

“Here you go,” Dr. Taylor said gruffly, urging me to step into the brightly colored room. Inexplicably, the walls were covered with orange industrial carpeting while the floor was the same speckled linoleum found in the rest of the hospital. Of course the walls were carpeted. Of course nothing made sense.

Around me, eight patients were stringing dry macaroni onto pieces of yarn.

“Go on.” Dr. Taylor practically pushed me onto a chair, then headed over to Molly, the perky red-haired art therapist. I watched as they whispered to each other, catching words like
defiant
and
oppositional
.

When he left, Molly came over to me.

“Are you going to make a necklace?” The question came out more like a threat. I stared down at the table.

“You know, you could make it for your friend Sheila. It might be nice to do something for someone else.”

I glanced up. “Is she okay?” I asked.

“I can’t talk about other patients,” Molly said, a small smile forming on her face. “But I can say that a nice homemade gift might cheer her up while she’s recovering.”

“Is she getting electroshock? Where did they take her?” My voice rose in panic. If I’d done this to Sheila, I wouldn’t forgive myself. She’d thrown herself into the diversion and I didn’t even know if it would actually work. Who knew if Adam believed me, or even if he had, if he had enough information to get me. Hot tears formed behind my eyes.

“It’s all right to cry,” Molly murmured. She put her hand on my shoulder. Even though it was meant to be a protective gesture, her fingers felt clawlike and only reminded me how trapped I was. I would never, ever get out. Adam hadn’t believed me. Matt liked Jamie better. The Ainsworth was tomorrow, I had no hope of arriving for the interview, and all I had to look forward to was
maybe
, in the distant future, getting discharged into a family that’d already written me — Jamie — off.

Someone wailed, sounding more like a wounded animal than a human. I looked around to see where the sound was coming from, only to see concern and fear in the faces surrounding me. It had been
me
.

Molly scraped her chair back.

“I think art is too much for you today. Let’s call the nurses and get you to sleep.”

I didn’t protest as two orderlies helped me to my feet and half dragged me to my room, or when the nurse pushed a cup of pills and a glass of water in my hands, or when I finally succumbed to sleep.

I was woken by a bright light in my eyes. It was Dr. Taylor, his fingers flipping up my eyelids. I shook my head and he let go, turning toward the nurse.

“How long has she been asleep?”

“Just two hours. We’d have liked it to have been more.” The nurse glared at me as though it were my fault, and not Dr. Taylor’s, that I was awake.

“All right. She’ll be a little sleepy in the car, but she can nap on the way home. I’ll sign the discharge.”

“Discharge?” I asked. My voice was creaky.

Dr. Taylor turned toward me and nodded. “Yes. It’s not what I would have recommended. I think you could make a lot of progress here if you dug in. But we don’t keep patients against their will.”

I resisted the urge to question that statement.

“Ready?” the nurse asked, much nicer now that she knew she didn’t have to deal with me. She helped me to my feet. I swayed on solid ground. My eyelids felt heavy and I could tell my speech was slurred.

“Will I be better tomorrow?” I asked. If I could get home and get to sleep, I’d be able to make it to the interview tomorrow morning.

“
Better
is a subjective word, Jamie,” Dr. Taylor said. “We’re here for you anytime you need us.”

In the lobby, a burly man with sunglasses stood with his arms crossed over his chest.

“This is Jamie.” Dr. Taylor shoved me forward. “I’m faxing her discharge paperwork per her family’s request. Jamie, this is the driver who’s been arranged by your family to bring you home. Good-bye,” he said formally.

I locked eyes with him. As soon as I cleared up everything at home, I’d see what I could do about suing Serenity. But one step at a time. “Thank you.”

I climbed into the backseat of the car, far too excited to fall asleep and annoyed at how heavy my eyelids were. I couldn’t be foggy. Not now. But as the time it took to open my eyelids after blinking grew longer and longer, I knew I didn’t have a choice. I had to rest.

But before I fell into unconsciousness, one word was on my mind:
perfect
.

M
iss?”

“Yes?” My eyes flew open, taking in the white fences lit by the moonlight, the rolling green pastures, and the gravel driveway leading to the sagging porch.

“You’re home,” he said. As if I didn’t know that.

“Thank you!” The out-of-it feeling was gone, replaced with exhilaration. I was home. I practically sprinted up the driveway, feeling the air in my lungs.

As always, the back door was unlocked. I flung it open. Sadie rushed toward me, jumping and licking and wiggling her tail uncontrollably.
She’d
missed me.

The luminous green numbers on the stove clock read 12:01. The fridge door was the same as always, no phantom pictures. The house smelled like firewood and burning leaves, all the outdoor scents that had wafted through the open windows.

I wasn’t sure where to begin. I needed to call Adam. I needed to talk to Mom. I needed to talk to Jamie’s family.

But first, I needed to eat.

I opened the fridge, pulled out the jar of peanut butter, and scooped a thick spoonful. Not bothering with bread, I took a bite.

“I see you’re making yourself right at home.”

I spun around. The spoon clattered to the floor and Sadie ran toward it, unaware that she was in the middle of me and my twin.

“Jamie.” I blinked.

“Did I scare you?” She laughed, then sat at the kitchen table. She was wearing one of my mother’s yoga tops and a pair of yoga shorts that showed off her toned legs. Dark eyeliner made her eyes seem even bluer. Her hair was loose around her shoulders. As if aware that I was watching, she lifted it up, then dropped it — but not before I got a glance at the hickey on her neck.

“Sit down,” she said. It was more of a command than a suggestion. “We have so much to catch up on. Seventeen years is a lot for sisters. I tried reading your journals, but I got a little distracted. Matt is amazing. Why write about it if you can have the real thing?”

I remained standing. I wanted so badly to hate her. She’d almost ruined my life. But I couldn’t help but think of the sad-eyed girl from the file, the one who never felt like she belonged in her family. Wasn’t that how I’d always felt at school?

“Why did you do this?” I asked. “Why?”

“Does everything need a reason?” she asked cryptically.

“I mean, I know your dad is …”

“My dad is what?” In one fluid movement, Jamie burst from the chair and grabbed a butcher knife from the block on the counter. She held it toward me, arching her eyebrow as if to dare me to say something else.

I took an instinctive step back, landing on Sadie’s paw. She growled and glanced between us, then bared her teeth and began barking at Jamie.

“Shut up!” Jamie snapped, using her knee to knock Sadie’s nose back. Sadie whimpered, tail between her legs, and headed toward my feet. She licked my ankle, and I knew she wanted
me to pet her. I didn’t. I was frozen, afraid one small move would cause Jamie to violently react.

“Don’t look so scared, Hayley,” Jamie said, as if she’d read my mind. “I’m not going to kill you yet. It’d be a shame if we lost each other so quickly after reconnecting. Besides, I still need you. Don’t worry, you’re not Leah Kirkpatrick.” She put the knife on the table.

“Did you kill her?” I didn’t take my eyes off the knife.

“Did I kill her?” Jamie repeated, as if she were asking herself the same question. “Well, I think that’d be a good debate question. Some people would say I did. Others would say I simply was the catalyst. And then others would say I was just one piece of the plane crash theory puzzle.” She smiled as if we shared a secret. “But it turned out well for you. She was going to get your Ainsworth spot.”

“And you …”

“Fixed things so you would. You can thank me later,” she said. Noticing my gaze, she grabbed the knife and placed it back in the block with exaggerated patience. “Seriously, I said I wouldn’t kill you. I was joking!”

“I don’t get it,” I said. “You had everything growing up. You went to the best schools. You had this awesome house and a family and you wanted to give it up?” If Jamie thought her experience had been bad, what would she have done if our situations had been reversed? I imagined Aidan and me playing elaborate games of pretend in their family’s lavish, antique-filled home. I imagined family trips to Europe and private lessons and anything in the world I wanted, without
ever
having to worry about cost. But what would Jamie have been like if she’d been raised by my mom?

“You don’t have to get it,” Jamie said, a hard edge to her voice. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” She sat back down at the table, lost in thought.

I had a million questions: What had really happened to Leah? How had Jamie found out about me in the first place? Why did she want my life? “What was so bad about your life?” I asked quietly. I cautiously sat next to her. Our hands were side by side on the table, the long pointer fingers and prominent knuckles looking like they were a pair. I edged mine closer to hers, surprised when she didn’t pull away.

Jamie shrugged. “I didn’t like being Jamie. Not the Jamie my dad and his little trophy wife wanted me to be. I felt like there had to be something more out there, something I was missing. And there was.”

“Me?” I asked.

“I had to go to one of my brother’s stupid debate tournaments last year, and I saw you. You weren’t debating him … you’re better than him, so that made me happy. But it was easy to find your name. At first I just wanted to play around. I mean, I was just kicked out of school and I had a lot of free time, you know? But then, the more I was hanging out here, the easier it was. And I figured, why not try living it?”

I imagined the life we’d have had if we’d grown up together. I imagined us as toddlers in matching bathing suits, staying up late and inventing a secret language, doing whatever twins are supposed to do. No matter what, we’d both been denied that.

“Did you meet my mom?” I asked quietly.

“I did.” She shrugged. “She was all right. But I’m not looking for another family. It only makes things more complicated. All I need,
sister
, is you.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“Well, I’m not going back to Brookline. And, honestly, I don’t really feel like staying here any longer than I have to. But I had a good conversation with Mr. Klish today and it seems, in his words, that the Ainsworth is just the ticket for an ambitious young person to reach her dreams. So that’s what I need. And I need you to win.”

“Okay …” I trailed off to allow her to speak.

“So, here’s the thing: It’s a pretty sweet scholarship. And I don’t care about college. But I do need money. So I figure, you win the award, you provide me with an allowance, and I go away. It’s easy.”

“Where would you go?”

“Costa Rica? Paris? San Francisco? I don’t care! Don’t you realize, I just don’t want to be
here
?”

Her jaw was set, and her nose wrinkled the same way mine did when I was trying not to cry.

“You want me to help you disappear,” I said.

Instead of saying something snarky, she nodded.

“I need you to help me. Please. And then, once I’m gone, I’ll be well. I’ll be able to heal once I get away from
them
. They weren’t good parents. There’s a reason your mom never talks about James. Please trust me.”

I knew that tone. It was pure desperation, the one I’d used with Adam. The one he’d ignored. I couldn’t do that to my sister. I noticed a lone eyelash on her cheek, glistening in the shaft of moonlight from the window. I reached toward her and lifted it off with the pad of my finger, holding it toward her. She shrugged, confused.

“It’s an eyelash. You make a wish and blow on it.” Had she never done this? Keely and I had always done it, the gesture as familiar as brushing a piece of lint off her sweater. But touching Jamie’s skin was different. It was like watching myself in the mirror. I couldn’t look away.

And I already knew I couldn’t turn away.

“You know what my wish is,” she said. She puffed out her cheeks and blew.

I thought of the money, halved. It’d still be a lot. I could still make it work. I could get a shift as a barista near campus. I’d make Ingrid share her secrets for how to travel through Europe on less than ten euros a day. Yes, she was sick. But she was my sister. How could I turn on someone so much like myself? My eyes locked with hers. “Okay,” I heard myself say.

I felt myself enveloped in my sister’s hug, surrounded by a sweet, smoky scent. We hadn’t been this close in seventeen years. Maybe this would be worth it.

“Well, you’d better rest up, then!” she said brightly. “And you have to change out of that
outfit
!” I looked down at my Serenity-issued uniform.

Her eyes widened. “I really hope you can forgive me about this. It all got so out of control. I just … just got caught up in the idea that I could actually do this. It was the perfect plan.”

“I’m happy to do it,” I said numbly, allowing my sister to walk me upstairs and tuck me into bed as if I were a child.