DupliKate (4 page)

MORE THINGS TO DO

• Anything Paul asks
  
• Figure out how to get rid of clone
  
• Attempt not to go insaner
  
• Essay!!!
  

THE NEXT MORNING IN THE MIDDLE OF EURO,
Kyla leaned over and wrote, “Long lunch?” on my notebook. That’s Kyla-speak for ditching fifth period and going to the mall. I started to write back to her, but she flicked my pen aside and wrote, “Let me guess. No. Too much work.”

I smiled ruefully and nodded. She rolled her eyes at me and wrote, “Sucks to be you!” I managed to scribble, “Thanks,” before we both got the feeling we were missing too much of the French Revolution lecture currently being spewed forth at the front of the room.

Before lunch Kyla dangled her car keys in my face with her “one last chance!” look, but I waved her off as Anne walked up to me.

“Hey, thanks for forwarding me that physics e-mail,” she said, fiddling with the end of her blond ponytail. “I can’t
believe you were already home when I called yesterday. I figured I would just leave you a message.”

I smiled and nodded at her, my fingers clenching slightly as I imagined strangling Rina. “Yeah, I was kinda speeding,” I said casually.

“You sounded a little weird on the phone, though. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I just had a bad headache yesterday,” I explained, willing myself not to panic.
She doesn’t know anything. She couldn’t possibly know anything! She’s just making conversation.
I shook my head when Anne asked if I was coming to lunch, not relishing the thought of sitting down at a table with her, even with a bunch of our other friends. Instead, I bypassed the cafeteria altogether and dragged Paul to the yearbook office with me.

“Hooking up on school grounds is your way of making up for practice yesterday, huh?” he asked, grinning as I pulled him inside and shut the door.

“Shut up,” I said, chucking my bag onto the table in the middle of the room and sinking into a chair. The yearbook office is actually just a conference room inside the library, but the door is really thick, so you can make as much noise as you want. “This is me spending quality time with my boyfriend while also getting work done. Are you in or out?”

“I’m in,” Paul said, leaning over to give me a quick kiss. “It’s far better for me to sit here and silently watch you work
than go back to the cafeteria, where people are actually having fun.” I shot him a warning look and he grinned. “Kidding, of course.” He sat down across from me and started eating, while I took out my laptop and opened up a blank document. The mom essay from last night had, predictably, fizzled out after half a page, so once again I was searching for a topic.

“Losing the State Volleyball Championship on a Technicality Thanks to the Asshat of a Referee”?

“Academic Camp: Not Just for Nerds, Even Though I Was Pretty Nerdy the Summer Between Seventh and Eighth Grades”?

“Marching Band Requires Too Much Talent and an Interest in Marching”?

No, no, and no. I then semiseriously considered writing about a certain mishap involving Paul’s lips, my lips, and his allergy to one of my lip glosses, but there’s a line between uniquely quirky and glaringly inappropriate, and the line isn’t even that fine. So I nixed that one.

After the last bell of the day rang, I was at my locker putting my stuff in my book bag when Kyla sprinted up behind me and smacked me between the shoulder blades.

“You lying bitch!” she said very close to my head, just as I was shutting my locker door. I turned around and saw her staring at me, looking annoyed. She was wearing a
minuscule Catholic schoolgirl skirt and angrily yanking the zipper of her little green ski jacket up and down.

“Yup, I’m a prevaricating…um…bitch,” I said, failing to come up with a synonym for bitch except for the one about seeing somebody next Tuesday, and I certainly wasn’t going to use that. Kyla glared at me, the look on her face a mixture of anger and triumph. “All right, what’d I do?” I asked.

Kyla folded her arms. “You fully went to the mall at lunch, you sneaky little liar. You undercover slacker, I may never trust you again!”

“What?” I laughed. “No I didn’t.” I’d only taken Kyla up on a long lunch once in my entire high school career, and it certainly hadn’t been anytime near finals.

“Yes, you did,” she said.

“Kyla, I was in the yearbook office doing work. Do you want to see the files on my laptop?” I let my bag slide off my shoulder so that I could reach the zipper, in case she actually did want to see.

Kyla shook her head impatiently, her red hair coming loose from its haphazard bobby-pinning. She stuck out her bottom lip and blew the strands off her face. “I totally saw you. I yelled at you, but I guess you were too far away to hear. You were coming out of Hot Topic with a huge bag.”

“Okay, Hot Topic? It
clearly
wasn’t me.” Seriously?
Maybe I wasn’t the only one having hallucinations lately. Unless—

Oh no.

No!

I gulped, struggling not to pass out from horror.

“Okay, well—I mean, whoever it was looked exactly like you, then,” Kyla said, still sounding doubtful. “And the thing was, she was wearing a shirt that looked just like that really baggy, ratty flannel one you always—”

“What?” I practically shrieked. Oh,
hell
no! Not only did Rina leave the house and go to the mall, she had evidently stolen my grandfather’s favorite shirt. Not okay. So not okay.

Kyla gave me a weird look and took a step back. “So…was that you or wasn’t it?”

“It was totally not me,” I said quickly. “I was here.”

Kyla looked me up and down. “Yeah, I guess if it
were
you, why would you go home and change first?” I was in the same outfit I’d been wearing all day—jeans and a short-sleeved green tee layered over a long-sleeved brown one—plus my button-up red winter coat. “Sorry, I totally suck,” Kyla said, still looking perplexed, but also apologetic. “Watch out, though. You might have an evil twin running around the mall.” She elbowed me and grinned. I’m pretty sure I went totally pale at that thought, but I managed to scrounge up a smile.

“Well,” I said, “If I run into her I’ll make sure to kick her ass.” In my head, there was no “if” in that sentence. It was more like, “I’m about to run home and
definitely
kick her ass.”

“That’s the spirit!” said Kyla, playing with the zipper on her jacket again. “All right, go home. I know you’re
dying
to study some more SAT words or whatever the hell.” She took off down the hallway as I pictured a thousand different methods of killing Rina. I then sped all the way home, to get the killing started as soon as possible.

“Hi!” Rina said when I walked in. She was lying on my bed, reading
The Swiss Family Robinson.
She must have finished the thesaurus. “How was your day?”

I stared at her. There was a crumpled-up Hot Topic bag on the floor and she was wearing skintight purple and black zebra-patterned jeans, a black tank top with the word
HARLOT
written on the front in some sort of red-sequined pointy devil font, skull-and-crossbones bracelets, and what looked like a dog collar around her neck.

“How was my day?” I asked her. “HOW WAS MY DAY? How the hell do you think my day was? My friend Kyla saw you at the mall! And now she thinks I’m a bitch
and
that I dress like a baby goth ho!”

Rina looked down at her outfit. “I know, right? It’s so cute. I figured I would get away from all the pink, so—”

“Did you not hear what I just said?!” I have never even
come close to starting a girlfight, at least not since preschool, but I wanted very badly to grab Rina by the hair and slam her face into the wall. Repeatedly.

Rina saw my expression, and her smile disappeared. “I’m sorry,” she said, chucking her book aside and sitting up straight. “It’s just—I know I wasn’t supposed to leave your room, but I was just so bored, and I got the bus schedule off the Internet and you had a ton of change in your piggy bank….” I stared at her and she started talking faster. “I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad. Don’t you like our new clothes?”

“No,”
I said, recoiling in disgust as I stared at her outfit again. She’d bought a
lot
of stuff. I looked over at my piggy bank, which was lying on the floor. “How much money did I have in there, exactly?”

“Oh, it was mostly change, but there were some twenties. You must’ve shoved ’em in at some point and forgotten about them,” Rina said. Her brief foray into remorse was evidently already over and she seemed all cheerful again. Great.

I sighed and flopped down on the bed. “Rina,” I said, forcing a note of patience into my voice, “you can’t just go wherever you want. I mean, you’ve already been spotted. That can’t happen again. Okay?”

“I guess,” she said, scooching over on the bed to make more room for me. “But couldn’t we just tell people we’re twins?”

“But we’re not!” I exclaimed, sitting up. “I’ve lived here my whole life. People know I’m an only child! It’s not like we’re long-lost—here, give me your hand.” She held it out and I yanked her toward me, then held both of our hands up to the light. “Okay, if we’re twins, we’ll still have different fingerprints. Right? They’re like snowflakes. So let’s see if…” I squinted at her fingers, then my own, then nodded in resignation. It wasn’t hard to tell that the ridges and whorls on her fingertips were the exact same as the ones on mine; not just similar, but exactly the same. “See?” I said. “If somebody found out about you, they’d probably throw us into a government testing facility or something. They’d dissect us in a lab. I don’t wanna be dissected in a lab, thanks very much. I kinda like my parts where they are.”

I flopped back down on the bed. “This is so the last thing I need right now.”

“Yeah, you look stressed,” Rina agreed.

“Thanks,” I said sarcastically. “You aren’t exactly helping by gallivanting around town. And you would be stressed too if you had to retake the SATs in less than two weeks, but before that there were finals, and…” I rattled off my “life sucks because” list that I usually confine to my most private neurotic moments, and she had the decency to look appropriately worried for a split second before jumping in and reciting the end of the list along with me. Smart-ass.

“By the way, is it really hot in here or is it just me?” I asked.

“Oh, I turned the heat up,” Rina said. I looked at her and rolled my eyes.

“What?” she asked. “I know Mom turns the heat off when you guys aren’t here, but I was here.”

“Quit calling her Mom. And you weren’t here, you were at the mall.”

She shrugged. “Not the whole day.”

My eyes widened and I snapped my head around to look at her. “Oh my God, did you go anywhere else?”

“No, I came straight back. Calm down.” Rina actually sounded a little impatient. Since when was
I
annoying
her?

“Oh, now my cybertwin is telling me to calm down. Great.” I sat down at the computer and started checking my e-mail.

“You don’t understand,” said Rina, sitting back down on the bed. “Do you know how
boring
it was being in that game for the last four years? Hello! You didn’t even put that much stuff in my house! Thank God you remembered the TV! And now you just want me to stay in your room all day? It’s almost worse! It
is
worse!”

“Fine,” I said, deleting a few e-mail messages and then sending myself a reminder to get new number two pencils. “Tomorrow you can leave my room. Watch TV. Go anywhere in the house you want. Just don’t
leave
, okay?”

“Really?” Rina’s eyes widened enthusiastically. “Cool! Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, relieved that she’d gone along so easily. “Now if you don’t mind, I have a lot of work to do.” I closed my e-mail and opened up a word document, on the very off chance that essay inspiration suddenly struck.

“No problem! I’m gonna finish this book,” Rina said, picking up
The Swiss Family Robinson
again. “Once I’m done, though, do you have any recommendations?”

I looked toward my bookshelf and its row of all seven Harry Potter hardcovers. “Yeah,” I said, jerking my head toward them. “Those.”

“Wow, those will take me a while.”

“That’s the idea.” I put on my headphones, turned to the computer, and grabbed my physics textbook to work on robot calculations. I could hear Rina through the music, but the one time she asked, “Hey Kate?” I pretended I couldn’t.

There’s only so much a girl can take.

“WELL, HELLO THERE,” PAUL SAID JUST AFTER
second period. I had tracked him down at his locker, sneaked up behind him, and given him a huge hug. He squeezed me crushingly and then pulled me into a side hallway, away from the crowd of students rushing off to their next class. “Didn’t see much of you yesterday.”

“Aw, I know,” I said, my arms around his waist. I snuggled my face into his shoulder, despite the slightly scratchy surface of his gray wool sweater. Behind him, someone came around the corner, said, “Get a goddamn room,” and then turned around and left.

“We refuse,” I called down the hallway. “We only hook up in public. It’s our thing.” Paul laughed, and he was about to bend his head to kiss me when I was distracted by my phone beeping. I checked the text. It was from Josh, one of the assistant editors on the paper, asking if I could help him
with some quick ad layouts after school. “Ugh,” I said, then texted back, OK. If I didn’t help him today, I’d probably just have to fix whatever he messed up later.

“So, no practice again today, huh?” Paul said. He’d been reading my phone over my shoulder, and he raised an eyebrow at me.

I looked up at him, confused for a second, and then my eyes widened as I realized that I’d just blown off his basketball practice again, right before his very eyes. I opened my mouth to apologize, but he cut me off.

“You know what, don’t worry about it. It actually reminds me that I can’t go shopping with you tomorrow.”

“Aww!” I said, even as half of my brain went, “YES!” We’d planned a quick Christmas shopping jaunt weeks ago and I’d budgeted a few hours on Friday afternoon for it, but I could actually really use that time for other things.

“Yeah,” Paul continued, “my dad set up this last-minute meeting with some Yale board member, so…sorry.” He made a cute frowny face at me.

“Well, it gives me more time to study and that’s always a plus.” I shrugged and reached up to fix his hair.

“Hey, don’t sound
too
disappointed,” Paul said, ducking his head away. His voice was half-playful, half…not. “It sounds like if I hadn’t canceled, you would’ve.”

“Oh, come on,” I said. He couldn’t be mad at
me
about this, could he? “You know I’d rather go with you. But if you
can’t do it, then I have a couple extra hours to work, which I could use this week.”

Paul nodded a little and his face softened. “Yeah, I know. Well, do you need help? I’ll be your study buddy if you want,” he offered. “And if that’s the only time I can see you,” he added, playing with a lock of my hair.

“You’re nice.” I smiled back. “Maybe a few hours on Sunday?”

“Yes, and if we accidentally get naked some time during said study session, that’ll just be—”

I punched him in the arm.

“—awful, and we’d put our clothes back on and go right back to hitting the books,” he finished. He gave me a quick kiss as I giggled. Then I watched, amused, as two freshman girls openly admired him as he walked away down the hall.

My interaction with the other guy in my life was not quite as pleasant. As soon as I sat down in physics, Jake threw a folder at me. It skidded across the table and sliced a paper cut onto my pinky finger. “Ow!” I yelped, and jumped back.

“Yikes,” he said. “Sorry.”

I waved my hand around, then looked at the cut, which had turned into a thin red line with two tiny blood droplets. “Thanks,” I said. “Appreciate it. Love being mortally wounded as soon as I walk into class.” I went over to the
fat roll of brown paper towel sitting on the counter along the classroom’s back wall and ripped off a piece to dab my finger.

“It’s just a paper cut,” Jake said, glancing casually at my hand and then hopefully toward the clock, as if he thought class might be over already.

“It’s a folder cut,” I corrected. “It’s much worse.”

“It’s a little worse,” he said.

“Well, it’s not good either way.” I waved my hand around some more, waiting for the stinging to go away.

“Let me see,” he said. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me closer to get a better look at the cut. I rolled my eyes and let him, then realized that Anne was looking at us from across the room, eyebrows raised, clearly registering that Jake was holding my hand in his. I quickly backed away, my chair scraping across the floor.

Jake shrugged. “Well, I’m sorry all my hard work almost defingered you, but…” He opened the folder he’d thrown at me and showed off several neat pages of calculations. “You have to admit this looks pretty good.”

“Oh,” I said, pulling the folder over and scanning the rows of numbers. I didn’t even bother to hide the utter shock in my voice. “Wow. Yeah.”

“Hey, I wasn’t gonna let you flunk. I mean, how can you flounce off to your Ivy League school of choice if you flunk?” Jake gave me an innocent, wide-eyed look.

“I was thinking more of a sashay, not a flounce, but thanks.” I took out a pencil and started comparing his numbers to the ones I’d done on my half of the lab. They all checked out.

“How are those college apps going, anyway?” he asked. Around us, the room buzzed with conversation and random pings and clanks, plus the occasional swear word, as everyone else worked busily. I noticed Anne glancing in our direction again, but now that she had nothing to see but me and Jake talking, she begrudgingly went back to her own project.

I looked at Jake, surprised. “You actually want to know?”

“Not really, but if you say they’re going terribly, I can figure out a way to make fun of you. And if you say they’re going great, I can also figure out a way to make fun of you. So it’s sort of a win-win question for me.”

I gave him a tight little smile. “Heh. Hilarious. They’re going fine, thank you. Or at least they will be once I figure out what the hell I should write my essay about.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Jake yawned and stretched his arms over his head. “Let’s see, you could talk about how you’ve learned that rules are not, in fact, meant to be broken,” he suggested, picking a pencil-size tube of metal from our robot supply box and flipping it through his long, thin fingers. “Or wait, maybe you should
write about the one time you actually”—he paused to mock-gasp—“colored outside the lines. Oh, wait, no, you don’t do that anymore.”

I reached into his bag, pulled out a marker, and used it to color several large sloppy patches of red on the pages of his open physics textbook.

“Okay,” he said, pulling the book away from me and looking down at the now-splotchy pages 176 and 177. “Well, good for you. I guess that’s your essay topic right there.”

“I’m actually thinking something about how my lab partner is a huge pain in the ass.” I took out my calculator, then sighed. “All right, what the hell are we doing here?”

Jake shrugged, then scooched his chair back and put his feet up on the table. “You’re the smart one—why don’t you tell me?”

I gingerly picked up one of the robot arms that we’d started putting together yesterday. It immediately fell apart in my hands.

“You just killed our robot. Guess you’re not the smart one after all.” Jake sighed dramatically.

“I’m going to answer that by throwing this at your head,” I said, grabbing one of the Ping-Pong balls out of our supply box. And I did.

After the last bell of the day rang, I took out my phone
to turn the sound back on and noticed a text from my mom. The text said, Are you sick? Call me. Weird.

I called her back. “Hey Mom, no, I’m not sick, I’m just leaving school now.” I headed for the parking lot, shifting my bag to my other shoulder and almost dropping my phone in the process.

“Oh, okay,” my mom said, “because Marta, you know, next door called, and…” Dammit. I already knew where this was going. Our next-door neighbor is a retired college professor and she’s home most of the time. She must’ve seen Rina. Which meant that Rina left the house.

“It must’ve been someone else,” I said flatly, making a beeline to my car and a plan to wring Rina’s neck. “I’ve been at school all day,” I continued. “You can call the attendance office and ask for my record if you want.”

“I believe you, honey,” my mom said. “You don’t have to sound so defensive.”

“I’m not being defensive!” Except that I was totally being defensive. Paranoia and panic tend to do that to you, and fury doesn’t exactly help you cover it up. I reached my car door and started a one-handed search through my bag for my car keys, finding lip gloss, a crumpled-up to-do list, and three pens first. I swore under my breath before finally closing my fingers around my scratched-up mini-flashlight key chain.

“Okay, well, I just wanted to check,” my mom said. “Marta’s getting pretty old,” she added, laughing a little. “I guess she made a mistake.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

But Rina had made a bigger one.