“Here are all my fall and winter clothes,” Chris said, pulling open the door of her closet. She was hardly the neatest girl in the world, since her dates and club meetings and long telephone conversations kept her too busy for much serious cleaning. The top of her desk was piled high with papers and books, and her dresser was cluttered with so many bottles and jars that it looked as if they were about to fall off. The pale blue wallpaper sprigged with tiny white flowers was covered with school banners and dance programs and math papers with big red A’s at the top. Even her furry brown teddy bear had ended up on the floor in the corner.
But her closet was the one exception. Everything hung neatly side by side, blouses with blouses, skirts with skirts. Chris loved clothes and treated them like valuable possessions. She even hung up her bright tee shirts, forming a rainbow of color between her sweaters and her dresses.
“Feel free to help yourself. There’s no reason why everything shouldn’t fit. And you know what I usually wear.” She handed Susan her new pair of jeans.
“Right. Jeans and a tee shirt or sweater shouldn’t be too difficult to manage.” Susan grinned.
“You’ll see,” Chris returned, pretending to be offended. “There’s nothing more comfortable. Even though I wear my jeans a bit tight. How do those fit?”
“Ow! I can’t breathe! I can barely zip these up!”
“Good,” her sister said matter-of-factly. “Then they fit perfectly. That’s just how I like to wear them.”
“What am I getting myself into?” Susan wailed. “Do you really walk around in these things eighteen hours a day?” ‘
“Quiet. You look great. And you’ll get used to it. Now here’s a tee shirt. Robin's-egg blue, one of my favorites. Don’t you dare get it dirty!”
“I promise I won’t even sweat in it. Since I can’t breathe anyway ...”
“We’ll have to set your hair with electric rollers to make it wavy by dinnertime. Then we’ll put in these blue combs.”
A few minutes later Chris led her sister over to the full-length mirror that lined her bedroom door. “There!” she cried. “I’ve created a masterpiece!”
“Wow!” Susan exclaimed, blinking at her reflection. “Is that really
me?”
Chris had duplicated her own hair and makeup, as well as her usual style of dress, in her sister. Standing side by side and looking into the mirror, they both felt as if they had double vision.
“Look at that!” Chris laughed. “It’s you, disguised as me! It’s perfect, don’t you think?”
“It’s
spooky!”
Susan cried. “We haven’t looked this much the same since we were little, when Mom used to dress us up in the same clothes and braid our hair in pigtails the exact same way!”
“And now the finishing touch. If anybody has any doubts, this’ll convince them. I guarantee it.” She fastened an ID bracelet around her sister’s wrist. It was a delicate gold chain, and dangling from it was a thin disc inscribed in script with the name Christine. It had been a gift from the girls’ grandmother on their fifteenth birthday.
“That’s a great idea, Chris. Don’t let me forget to give you my heart locket with my initials on it.”
She looked at the girl in the mirror once again. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it.”
“Okay. Let’s do me now,” Chris insisted. “If you can bear to tear yourself away from your own reflection. Christine Pratt may have many faults, but obsessive vanity is not one of them!”
The twins proceeded to Susan’s bedroom, where they made another magical transformation. After a few minutes it was Chris who stared into the mirror in disbelief.
“The Banana Split Affair has begun!” she cried. With her straight hair, freshly washed face, and pale blue skirt with a flowered blouse, she had become Susan Pratt. At least on the outside.
“Here comes the hard part,” said Chris, once she was able to tear herself away from her reflection. “Exchanging clothes and hairstyles is nothing. But learning each other’s mannerisms and the way each of us would react in certain situations—-that’s going to be tricky business.”
“I know,” Susan agreed. “The only saving grace is that you and I have been living under the same roof for sixteen years. I do know
something
about you. And imitating you shouldn’t be too hard.”
She immediately launched into her best Chris Pratt act, changing her voice and her stance just enough to copy her sister. “Why should
I
kiss
you,
you silly thing? I’ve got hundreds of boyfriends, and every one of them is nicer and better-looking and more interesting than you!”
“I don’t sound like that, Sooz!” Chris laughed. “Or do I?”
“Not the words, maybe, but I’ve got the voice down perfectly. Now, watch me walk like you.” Susan-as-Chris strutted across the room, chin held high, arms swinging by her side.
“Oh, no!” Chris groaned, covering her eyes. “I don’t walk like
that,
do I?”
“Well, not quite, I guess. But that’s the idea. I’ll tone it down for school. Now, what about you? Can you imitate me?”
Chris modestly folded her hands across her lap and lowered her eyes. “Mr. Douglas,” she cooed in a low voice, “if I only get a ninety-nine on this history test, it’ll ruin my average. You know I’ve never gotten less than a hundred before in my life!”
“Oh, stop!” Susan cried. “I’m not like that!”
“I know. But I had to do
something
to get back at you! Okay, I think we’ve got that down. You’re right—after being together all our lives, there’s no problem with copying each other’s voice and mannerisms. What about our reactions to things?”
“What exactly do you mean? Give me an example.”
“Let’s see. Here’s one. What would you do if a boy you’d never seen before smiled at you and started walking in your direction?”
Susan thought for a minute. “Honestly? Do you want to know what I’d really do?”
“Sure. I’ve got to learn more about the way you think. How can I become Susan Pratt if I don’t know everything about her?”
“Well,” Susan said, lowering her eyes, “I’d probably start walking in the opposite direction, as fast as I could.” She glanced up at her sister. “How about you? What would you do?”
“Why, I’d smile back and wait for him, of course!”
The two girls laughed.
“I can see there are some very big differences between you and me!” Susan exclaimed.
“That’s for sure.”
“Uh, Chris, I guess there’s something I should tell you, since we plan to go all the way with this.”
“Oh, boy. This sounds juicy! What is it?”
“I, um, have kind of this ... this
crush
on one particular guy at school.” Susan blushed.
“Oh, is
that
all. Well, you’d better tell me who it is.”
“Are you actually going to go after him?” Susan gasped.
“Of course,” Chris said matter-of-factly. When she saw the look of horror that crossed her sister’s face, she added, “In the same way that
Susan
Pratt would, of course. Although,” she said with a twinkle in her brown eyes, “I just might add a bit of the old Christine charm for good measure!”
“Don’t you dare!” Susan cried. “Don’t forget who you are. I mean who you’re
supposed
to be!”
“Trust me.” Chris grinned. “I won’t do anything to embarrass you. I might even end up playing matchmaker!” Her eyes still shone mischievously, however, and Susan wondered if telling her sister about her crush was a good idea after all. “So who is the lucky guy?”
“His name is Keith West. He’s in my art class.”
“What’s he like? I have to be able to recognize him.”
“Oooh, he’s wonderful! He has sandy blond hair and the greenest eyes you ever saw. And he’s a really talented artist. Much better than I am. At least, I think so. He’s nice, and smart, and kind of quiet, like me....”
“Sounds like Superman.”
“He’s also very, very shy. Especially around girls.”
Chris sighed. “I’ll do what I can. I’ve run into the shy type before.”
“Chris, please don’t overdo it!”
“Don’t worry. I’ll still be acting like Susan Pratt.” She glanced at Susan’s watch, which she was wearing on her own wrist. “Hey, it’s almost dinnertime. We’d better hurry. Let me give you a quick rundown of the guys I’ve been going out with lately.”
Susan groaned. “We’ll need about two hours for that!”
Chris took a playful swat at her sister “You just wait and see, Susan Pratt! You seem to have this idea that my life is nothing but a bed of roses. Just wait until school tomorrow.
You’ll
find out!”
As Chris listed all the names of the boys who had taken her out to school dances and football games and movies since school had started a few weeks earlier, Susan thought, Yes, I guess I
will
find out. That’s the whole idea of this exchange, isn’t it? And to be perfectly honest,
I
can’t wait!
“Are you ready?” Chris whispered as she and Susan
made their way down the stairs toward the dining room. “This is our first big test. If we can fool Mom and Dad during dinner, we’re halfway there.”
“It’s not quite that simple, I’m afraid,” Susan said softly. “Fooling them is one thing. Getting them to okay the Banana Split Affair is something else. There’s a good chance they won’t be as excited about our brainstorm as we are.”
“Have faith, Sooz. I’ve got my arguments all thought out. Don’t forget, I used to be on the Debating Team. If I can’t convince them that our plan is terrific, no one can.”
“Great,” her sister groaned. “If you can’t convince them that our plain is terrific, then I show up at school tomorrow morning as good old Susan Pratt. Just as always. And we’re right back where we started.”
“Trust
me!” In a normal tone of voice, Chris, wearing her Susan Pratt identity, said, “Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad. Is dinner about ready?”
“Sit right down,” said her mother. “Or better yet, come on into the kitchen and help serve. You too, Chris.”
The girls grinned at each other. While their mother hadn’t taken the time to look at them very carefully, she had nevertheless been fooled by the girls’ clothing, makeup, and hairstyles. She just assumed that the wavy-haired twin in the bright tee shirt was Chris and that the other twin, hair straight and clothing subdued, was Susan. Both of them were encouraged by their first minor success. Chris-as-Susan held up both hands with her fingers crossed.
As they sat down to dinner and chatted with their parents, both girls were tense. Talking and acting like each other was a task that called for constant attention. Still, no one seemed to notice that anything was out of the ordinary.
Every once in a while, Chris and Susan glanced at
each other nervously.
“How do you think we’re doing?” Susan-as-Chris’s eyes asked her twin.
“Relax,” was the response that Chris-as-Susan’s calm expression said. “We’re doing fine. Neither Dad nor Mom suspects anything.”
The meal went smoothly as the family listened to Mr. Pratt’s account of the trouble he’d had with the car lately and Mrs. Pratt filled them in on the latest happenings at the gourmet housewares shop she managed. But then the conversation became more personal, and the difficulties began.
“Chris, dear, did you change your clothes?” Mrs. Pratt suddenly noticed her daughter’s outfit. She looked confused as she eyed her blue tee shirt and jeans.
The real Chris poked Susan in the ribs. “Mom asked you a question, Chris.”
“O-oh. I’m sorry. I guess I was daydreaming. What’d you say, Mom?”
“Am I going crazy, or were you wearing that bright yellow tee shirt before? With those brown corduroy pants of yours?”
This time Susan was alert. “Yes, I did change. I, um, spilled baby powder all over my clothes.”
“Baby powder! What on earth were you doing with baby powder?”
Susan was about to stutter out an answer when Chris interrupted. “She didn’t have time to wash her hair before dinner, so she brushed baby powder through it. You know, like a dry shampoo.”
“Oh.” Mrs. Pratt continued to look puzzled. “But aren’t you going to wash your hair later?”
Susan blurted out her response. “Yes, but in the meantime, it felt dirty. And, well, you know how I feel about eating dinner with dirty hair.”
Mrs. Pratt glanced at her quizzically. “I’ve never heard of that one, Chris. This must be a new obsession of yours. Like when you were thirteen and would wear only the color white because you’d read in some magazine that girls with dark hair looked best in pale colors.”
“That’s Chris for you,” the real Chris mumbled, pretending to be absorbed in picking up stray pieces of rice from her plate with her fork.
Mrs. Pratt then looked at her other daughter. A frown crossed her face. “Come to think of it, Susan, weren’t you wearing something else before, too?”
“Well, yeah, but I spilled paint on my other clothes.”
“My goodness! What is this, a contest to see which twin can create the most laundry?”
“Oh, you know what klutzes sixteen-year-old girls can be,” Chris said offhandedly. “Always dropping things, spilling stuff all over the place ... Must be growing pains.” She couldn’t resist catching Susan’s eye and grinning.
Their mother shook her head. “I’ve never heard of anything like that before. Especially with you two. Must be some new phase you’re going through. Chris, would you please pass the gravy?”
Susan continued eating, ignoring her mother’s request.
“Chris, hon, the gravy?”
No response.
“Christine,” Mr. Pratt said, “would you please come down from Cloud Nine long enough to pass the gravy to your mother? Or is living on another planet also part of these mysterious ‘growing pains’ that seem to have overtaken my daughters all of a sudden?”
Susan finally looked up. “What?”
“Oh, here, I’ll pass the gravy.” Chris came to the rescue. She kicked her twin under the table.
“Christine,”
she said, “would you please pay attention? People are going to start wondering what’s wrong with you.”
“Sorry. I guess I was thinking about my painting.”
“What painting?” both parents chorused.