Her Evil Twin (7 page)

“That’s not true!” Anna blurted out, stunned. What was going on? Was this some kind of trick? “I know Emma goes to school here,” she told the dean. “I see her here every day.”

The dean folded her arms across her chest, her nostrils pinching as she drew in a long breath. “Anna,” she said in a flinty voice, “I think it’s time you start telling the truth.”

“I
am
telling the truth. Emma took the wallet. She’s the one you need to talk to.” Anna turned to her mother. “Mom, you believe me, right?”

Her mother looked back and forth between Anna and the dean, clearly confused. “Perhaps there’s been some kind of mistake?” she ventured hesitantly.
“Could Emma possibly go by another name in her records?”

“I’ve checked our entire database,” Ms. Turk replied. “We have no students with the last name Diablo.”

“Well, maybe I got her last name wrong,” Anna said, though she knew she hadn’t. She clearly remembered Emma’s words on the day they’d met.
Diablo, ’cause I’m devilish.
Had Emma lied about her name?

“Do you know anything else about Emma?” her mother prompted. “Her parents’ names? Where she lives?”

Anna shook her head, realizing how foolish she appeared. How could she not know where her best friend lived? And why hadn’t it ever occurred to her to ask?

“Her phone number?” Ms. Turk added in a tone that made it clear she didn’t expect much from Anna.

But Anna brightened. “I know her cell number. And her locker is on the first floor west hallway. Number two thirty-five. Or — or maybe it’s two thirty-six,” she added, remembering her confusion that morning.

Ms. Turk picked up her phone and pressed the line to the school secretary. “Ellen,” she said, “will
you please look up the students assigned to these locker numbers?” She gave the numbers Anna had mentioned.

As she set the phone down, Anna felt a pang of guilt. She didn’t want to get her friend in trouble — but she didn’t want to take the blame for something she hadn’t done, either. She hoped Emma would understand.

But she never had the chance to find out. Neither of the numbers Anna gave the dean checked out. Lockers 235 and 236 were assigned to two eighth grade boys. Emma’s cell phone number led only to a message saying the number was not in service.

Anna listened to each call with a growing sense of helplessness. She didn’t understand what was going on. But whatever it was, she was starting to realize she was in it alone.

Ms. Turk hung up the phone and leaned back in her chair. “Now,” she said, gazing sternly at Anna, “are you going to tell us the truth?”

The next hour went by in a blur. No matter how much Anna swore she was innocent, the dean
refused to believe her. The School Resource Officer was called in, and they decided Anna would be given a week of in-school suspension. Throughout the discussion, Anna’s mother kept nodding and saying things like, “Yes, we understand,” and “Of course, Ms. Turk,” and at some point Anna realized her mom was no longer on her side. She wouldn’t even look at Anna.

After that they made Anna step out of the office, while the dean and her mother spoke to the school counselor. Anna could only guess what they were saying about her.

By the time they left the school, she felt exhausted. The rain had finally let up, but dark clouds still blanketed the sky, and the air had turned colder. As they hurried toward her mother’s car, a raw, icy wind whipped Anna’s face, as if even the weather had turned against her.

“Mom,” Anna tried one last time once they were driving, “I know Ms. Turk doesn’t believe me, but I swear I didn’t steal anything. It was Emma —”

“Oh, Anna.” Her mother turned to her with such a look of dismay that Anna’s mouth snapped shut. They rode the rest of the way home in silence.

At home, Anna climbed the stairs to her room and lay down on her bed. She stared up at the ceiling. Her father would be home soon, and she dreaded having to tell him what had happened that day. He would be crushed to find out that his daughter was a thief.

But I’m
not
a thief,
Anna reminded herself. She went through the day’s events for what seemed like the hundredth time: Emma’s mysterious comment, the strange appearance of Jessamyn’s wallet in her locker, the phone and locker numbers that didn’t check out …

Where is Emma?
Anna wondered. Why didn’t they have a record of her at school? And, more importantly, had Emma known what was going to happen? Was she trying to set Anna up? But
why?

Somewhere behind the questions crowding her brain there was a steady rhythm at the back of her mind. Anna suddenly realized that she was repeating a number over and over again to herself.
Nine-four-nine-oh-six-one-five.
It was Emma’s phone number. An unusual number, Anna thought. Most numbers in their area started with five. And yet to Anna it was oddly familiar.

Abruptly, she sat up and got a piece of paper from her desk. It wasn’t until she wrote the number down that she realized why it was familiar: it was her own phone number, backward.

Anna felt a cold pit at the bottom of her stomach. She knew it couldn’t be coincidence. But Emma had given Anna her number first — not the other way around. How could Emma have known Anna’s number before they’d even met?

Something else was bothering Anna.
Emma, the girl with the silver eyes,
her mother had said.
Your imaginary friend.

Anna was certain she’d never described Emma to her parents. Could her mother have seen Emma somewhere? But then why bring up her imaginary friend?

A horrible possibility was starting to form in Anna’s mind. Was Emma … could she be …
imaginary?

“No! That’s insane,” Anna said aloud. If Emma was imaginary, that meant she didn’t really exist. And Emma most certainly existed. Anna thought of all the things they’d done together — climbing up to the school roof, throwing ketchup bombs on the Jackals, skipping school, eating lunch at the diner.
Anna would never have done those things alone; they wouldn’t have even occurred to her.

Besides, she knew Emma was real. Anna had grasped her hand. She had braided her hair. And, if Anna needed any more proof, it was right there on her pinky finger.

Anna stared at the friendship ring Emma had given her.
But you’ve always had that ring,
said a little voice in her head.
Remember? You’ve had it since you were a little girl.

Anna ran her hands through her hair. I
can’t believe I’m even thinking this,
she told herself.
Emma is just a regular girl who goes to Wilson. That idiot dean might not know her, but plenty of other people do. Like the kids in her classes, like … like …

Try as she might, Anna couldn’t come up with a single name. She realized she’d never seen Emma talking to anyone else at school. Every time Anna had encountered her — in the hallway, in the bathroom, on the roof — she had always been alone, always waiting for Anna.

As if,
Anna thought with growing alarm,
she existed for me.

“This is crazy. This is crazy. This is crazy.” Anna leaped up from her bed and began to pace around
her room. Her eyes fell on the cork bulletin board next to her desk. It was covered with photos of her and Dory. Anna was so used to the pictures that even after they’d stopped being friends, she’d never thought to take them down. Now she found herself staring at years and years of snapshots: Anna and Dory as little girls, having a tea party in Anna’s backyard; the two of them in party hats, blowing out the candles on Anna’s birthday cake; as kindergarteners, dressed as black cats for Halloween; in sixth grade, wearing sunglasses and mugging for the camera …

All I need is a photo of Emma to prove that she’s real,
Anna thought. But she didn’t have one. Why didn’t she have one? Normal friends had pictures of each other!

At the bottom of the corkboard, Anna had tacked up an old drawing of her and Dory. Two stick figures with a rainbow arching over their heads. Anna had drawn the picture in first grade. In one corner of the page, in clumsy, childish handwriting, she had written
beSt frenDS.

Staring at the old picture gave Anna an idea. It was an absurd, ridiculous idea.
But,
Anna thought in desperation, I
have to know.

She opened the door to her bedroom and crept downstairs. The house seemed cold and dark. For the first time in Anna’s memory, there were no comforting dinnertime smells coming from the kitchen. This was one day that wouldn’t be fixed by a hot meal.

Anna heard voices in the living room and realized her father was home. She’d been so wrapped up in her thoughts she hadn’t heard him come in. She tiptoed closer and paused just outside the living room, listening.

“The school counselor believes she may have a conduct disorder,” her mother was saying.

“What does that mean, exactly? A conduct disorder?” Anna’s father asked.

“It’s considered an early sign of criminal behavior.” Her mother’s voice was strained. “The counselor said that if she continues with these sorts of problems, it’s likely she’ll be expelled. She could end up in juvenile detention.” Mrs. Dipalo was silent for a moment. “The counselor said children with conduct disorders can grow up to be sociopaths.” On the last word her voice cracked. Anna could tell that she was crying.

A sociopath? Like a crazy person?
Anna didn’t want to hear any more. She moved past the living
room, down the hall to the small room that served as both an office and an extra bedroom. It contained a desk, a daybed, and an old bureau.

The bottom drawer of the bureau contained a treasure trove of Anna’s old things: finger paintings, ribbons from school fairs, reports with gold stars pasted at the top. Anna dug through messy collages encrusted with glitter and dried macaroni, pictures made from pipe cleaners, and a handmade card with the message
Hapy Muthers day. I luv you mom!

She dug deeper. At last, on an old piece of printer paper shoved near the back of the drawer, she found what she was looking for. It was a clumsy crayon drawing of two girls holding hands. They had blobs for heads, sticks for bodies, and arms and hands like lollipops. The girl on the left had two brown dots for eyes and a big red smile.

But it was the girl on the right that held Anna’s attention. Her eyes were colored in silver crayon.

Anna turned the page over. Any doubt she might have had vanished when she saw the note on the back in her mother’s tidy handwriting:

A
NNA, AGE
4
“M
E
AND
E
MMA “

Anna stared at the words until they started to blur. She set the drawing down and closed her eyes, trying to make sense of the thoughts that were swirling through her head.

Could she really have imagined her entire friendship with Emma? Anna tried to think of any other possible explanation — any reason that her new friend Emma might resemble her old made-up friend — but she came up with nothing. She didn’t have a single shred of hard evidence that Emma really existed.

Except one thing,
Anna told herself.
Jessamyn’s wallet. How else did it get in my locker?

An icy shudder went down Anna’s spine as the truth slowly dawned on her. If Emma wasn’t real, there could only be one explanation: that Emma and Anna were the same person. Anna had stolen the wallet herself, without even realizing what she was doing. It meant she really was crazy.

Anna had a hard time falling asleep that night. When she finally did she had terrible dreams: she was caught in a giant spiderweb, fighting to get free, but the more she struggled the more entangled she became. And when the spider appeared, it had her own face….

She awoke in a tangle of bedsheets, exhausted and shaken. Anna climbed out of bed and went over to the mirror above her dresser. Her hair was a dark snarl around her pale face, and there were shadows like bruises under her eyes.

“Are you crazy?” she asked herself. Her reflection gave no reply.

Breakfast that morning was a silent meal. The night before, her parents had decided her punishment:
she was grounded for a month, and they expected her to come home right after school every day — no exceptions. Her father was even going to start leaving work early to be home with her. But now, having delivered her sentence, they seemed to have nothing left to say to Anna. All that morning they kept sneaking looks at her as if they were no longer sure who she was.

Anna wasn’t so sure herself.

She was almost relieved when it was time to go to school. But once she got there, she wished she was home again. She felt on edge, expecting to see Emma at any moment.

And then what?
she wondered.
How does it work when you’re crazy?
Anna decided that if she saw Emma, she wouldn’t speak to her. The least she could do was
act
sane.

She was so wrapped up in these thoughts that it was a moment before she noticed something weird going on. In the hallways, kids were turning to stare at her. A few girls moved their handbags to their other shoulders as she passed.

It wasn’t until she got to her locker that Anna understood. The word
THIEF
was scrawled across her locker in heavy black marker.

As she gaped at the word, she felt someone yank one of her braids. Hard.

“Ouch!” Anna whirled around and came face-to-face with Kima.

“You are so dead,” Kima murmured, her eyes glittering dangerously. Then she sauntered off down the hall.

The next week was the worst of Anna’s life. She spent every hour of her in-school suspension shut up in a tiny room next to Ms. Turk’s office. She was allowed to leave only to use the bathroom and to get lunch from the cafeteria. But these moments were hardly a relief. The other students treated her like an outcast, and she lived in fear of running into Jessamyn and her friends. Anna had never felt so alone.

The strange thing was, she never saw Emma.
Where was she?
The question began to obsess Anna. After so many hours alone in the detention room, she was almost starting to miss her friend, imaginary or not.

On the Friday after Anna returned to her regular classes, she was sitting in English when a note arrived from the office.

“Anna?” said her teacher. “You’re wanted in Ms. Turk’s office.”

Again? What now?
Anna wondered as she collected her books.

She arrived at the office to find the dean red in the face. “Come with me,” Ms. Turk ordered, marching her down the hall toward the gymnasium.

They stopped in front of the old girls’ bathroom.

Someone had written in red spray paint on the door of the bathroom:

“What is the meaning of this?” the dean demanded.

Anna felt her blood run cold, but she tried to keep her face composed. “What makes you think I’d know?”

“Emma? Wasn’t that the name of your ‘friend'?” the dean replied, frowning.

Anna stared at the graffiti. The red paint had dripped down the door, giving the words a sinister look. “Anybody could have written it,” she said. But she didn’t think that just “anybody” had.

“There are two other Emmas at this school, and I have spoken to them both. Neither one knows anything about this,” the dean added.

“Well, I don’t know anything about it, either. I’ve been in class all morning,” Anna told Ms. Turk. “You can ask my teachers.”

“I certainly will.” The dean’s eyes bore into Anna. Though it took every fiber in her being not to squirm, Anna held her gaze.

“All right,” the dean said finally, “you can go back to class.”

Anna hurried away, feeling both elated and frightened. Whoever she was, Emma was back. And maybe now Anna could start getting some answers.

She took her seat in science class and gazed straight ahead at the chalkboard, but her mind was racing.

She remembered the day they’d written their names on the wall of the abandoned building. That had been the day they’d promised to be friends forever. Was there some proof there? Some clue to Emma’s existence?

There was one way to find out.

I can’t do it,
Anna told herself. Sneaking out of school was too risky. If she got caught, she’d be
suspended for sure. And she was expected at home right after school.

Then she thought,
But I have to know.

Anna waited until lunchtime, then she snuck off campus. She jogged all the way to the abandoned building. It looked the same as the first time she’d been there — empty, crumbling, forlorn. The only difference was that there seemed to be even more trash littering the lot than before.

She slipped through the broken chain-link fence and made her way around to the river side of the building.

There it was, written in bold red and black letters:

Feet crunched over broken glass nearby. Someone was coming! Anna spun around, expecting to see a stranger, possibly someone dangerous. All her muscles tensed to run.

“I thought I’d find you here.” Emma smiled as she stepped around the side of the building. “Don’t look at me like that, Anna. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you weren’t glad to see me.”

“Who
are
you?” Anna whispered.

“Come on, you know who I am,” Emma replied. “I’m your best friend. You’ve known me almost your whole life.”

“No.” Anna shook her head. “It’s not possible.”

“It
is
possible,” Emma said, taking a step closer. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

There was a look in Emma’s eyes that Anna had never seen before. A greedy, hungry look that frightened Anna, and she backed away.

“You’re here now, but where have you been?” she asked in a shaky voice. “You left me at school. You let me take all the blame for everything….”

“Yes, I’m sorry about that. But it had to be done,” Emma said matter-of-factly. “You needed to be reminded what friendship is all about.”

“That’s not friendship!” Anna exclaimed.

“Isn’t it?” Emma’s eyebrows arched. “I took the blame for you for years, Anna. Don’t you remember? You blamed me for everything, and I never complained because I was your best friend. And then one day, Dory came along, and you just threw me away.”

“B-but you didn’t exist,” Anna stuttered. “You
don’t
exist —”

“Don’t say that!” Emma screeched. Suddenly, she snatched up an empty glass bottle from the ground and hurled it in Anna’s direction. Anna threw up her hands for protection, but the bottle smashed down next to her, spraying glass across her shoes.

“Do you need any more proof that I exist?” Emma shouted.

Anna shook her head. She was trembling all over.

At once, the anger vanished from Emma’s face. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said calmly. “But you must never say that again. You must never, ever say I don’t exist.”

A breeze blew off the river, bringing with it the scent of mud and decay. Anna wrapped her arms around her shaking body. “What do you want from me?” she asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

“What I’ve always wanted, silly,” Emma said. “Just your undying friendship. And now we don’t have to worry about Dory or Benny or anyone else getting in the way. They don’t care about you now. Nobody cares about you, do they, Anna? Nobody except me. I care.”

As she spoke, Emma came closer and closer. Anna wanted to run, but her feet felt frozen to the
ground. Like a mouse transfixed by a python, she found herself staring into Emma’s strange silver eyes.

“Don’t you see, Anna?”

On the word
see,
Emma’s eyes suddenly became two silver mirrors in which Anna saw herself reflected — not the frightened girl she was now, but a powerful, strong, confident Anna.

And there was Emma by her side. For Anna saw Emma in the mirrors, too, like her own twin. And look! They were laughing — laughing at everyone else, the whole world. They were having so much fun….

“Don’t you remember how it used to be?” Emma said, her voice low and soothing. “It can be like that again. I’ve been waiting for you, Anna. Now that I’m back we’ll always be friends. Best friends …
forever.”

“No!”

It took every ounce of Anna’s will to wrench her eyes away from that hypnotic gaze. Emma reached out as if to stop her, but Anna slithered through her grasp. Skidding across the glass-covered pavement, she darted through the fence and ran away from there as fast as she could.