DupliKate Page 9

  “You’d better be!” she said cheerfully. “We’ve almost forgotten what you look like. Which, by the way, is terrible. Maybe more makeup during these stressful study times, not less.” She grinned and walked back toward her car. Anne followed her, and I shut the door, sprinted upstairs and found Rina in the closet.

  “Feel like going out with my friends?”

  “What?” she practically shrieked.

  “Shhh,” I said. “They’re all outside. Paul just left, but I forgot to tell them I didn’t have time to hang this weekend. You wanna go grab coffee with them? Pretend to be me?”

  “Oh my God, yes!” Rina said.

  “Okay, quick, switch clothes,” I said, and we both threw off our shirts and pants so we could trade. My hair was up, so I grabbed Rina a ponytail holder, and while we were changing outfits I tried to give her a nutshell rundown of my friends. “You’ve seen all these girls in the pictures, so you should be fine, but really quickly: Kyla’s the redhead. Laurin’s the tallest. Tess has dark brown hair; she’s the really buff one. Anne’s the sort of uptight blond. Carmen’s wearing her glasses today, so—”

  “Doesn’t she always wear them?” asked Rina. She put her hair in a ponytail.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Carmen,” said Rina. “You just said she’s wearing her glasses today like it’s a weird thing, but in the pictures, she’s always wearing them.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Right. Yes.” I generally think of Carmen as a no-glasses person because she always puts her contacts in for volleyball, but Rina was actually right. Since the season ended, she’d been rocking the librarian frames every day.

  “Okay, well, anyway,” I said, as Rina plucked my watch off my wrist and put it on her own, then fixed her hair once more, “that should cover you. If there’s something you don’t know, just act spacey and plead exhaustion, because frankly that’s how I feel now anyway.” I was slightly worried that Rina wouldn’t be able to pull off a convincing impression of me in front of so many people at once, but I also realized the advantage of sending her out in the field, so to speak, to listen for any inklings that the Jake story had gotten around. And if they did notice something was off with me, it wasn’t like they’d guess that I’d sent my SimuLife twin out in my place.

  “Okay!” she said, just as Kyla, in the driveway, started leaning on her car horn. “How do I look?” She was now in the navy blue waffle-weave shirt and jeans I’d just been wearing, and I was in her workout pants and a long-sleeved gray thermal.

  “Just like me,” I said, smiling. “Thanks for this! Have fun, and if my mom is home by the time you guys get back, I’ll sit by the living room window and you can tap on it and we’ll figure out a way to sneak you in.”

  “Got it!” Rina waved and sprinted down the stairs, grabbing one of my coats and shrugging into it on her way out the door. I peeked out the window as she ran outside and got into Kyla’s car. The little white Jetta pulled out into the dark, followed by Carmen’s Prius, and I suddenly realized that I should’ve given Rina some money. I turned to the dresser, and saw that my bag was tipped over, my half-empty wallet spilling out of it. Oh. I guess Rina had thought of everything.

  I breathed a sigh of relief and turned to my computer, where my Sound and the Fury take-home final was waiting on the screen. For the first time in forever, I felt like I could handle everything. I didn’t have to worry about letting my friends down. I didn’t even have to worry as much about studying for finals, thanks to the piles of flash cards and color-coded outlines Rina had left on my desk. Sure, she’d created some problems—the Jake thing still made my stomach twist nervously. But she was also saving my ass.

  I turned to my English paper, poised my fingers over the keyboard, and started typing.

  Dear Diary,

  Hanging out with Kate’s friends was sooooo much fun! I have to figure out a way to do this more often. Have. To. There was one scary moment when Anne asked if she’d seen me (well, Kate) at the outlets on Friday, and I had to be like, “Whaaaaat? Oh, no, totally not, that wasn’t me,” and then Kyla was all like, “Wow, that’s been happening to you a lot lately.” She wasn’t really suspicious or anything though. Anne seemed to be, but I did a good job covering.

  Of course, when I got home and told Kate about it, she totally freaked out. Like, totally. She’s really scared of getting caught, and she started going off on Anne. But I think she’s just panicking because she’s really stressed out (like, really—she’s trying to hide it, but I can totally tell). Besides, it only took about three seconds with the girls before the subject of mysterious look-alikes turned into something about twins in general, and then into something about the Olsen twins, and then into whether Laurin would rather bone Robert Pattinson in Cedric Diggory mode or Twilight mode. She was leaning toward Twilight mode, but then scrapped it and went with Kevin Garnett. I don’t know who that is.

  Love, Rina

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  MONDAY, DECEMBER 10

  MY ALARM CLOCK ONLY MANAGED TO RING half a fwamp on Monday morning before I reached out my hand to slap it off, so hard that it fell from the nightstand to the floor with a dull thump. Then I just lay in bed, covers up to my chin, eyes wide, staring at the ceiling. Outside my window, the sun was nowhere near coming up yet, and I could practically feel the cold from the frost-covered window reaching across the room toward me.

  I so did not want to go to school today.

  I inched a toe out from under the covers and let it adjust to the cooler, nonblanketed air. While the rest of the school might not know about Rina’s illicit (and awful, and horrifying, and disgusting, and horrifying, and awful, and hey, that was sort of a palindrome) kiss, Jake still knew. And I had no choice but to see him later today.

  Yikes.

  In English I handed in my not-as-good-as-Rina’s take-home exam; then, thanks to Ms. Appenfore letting the class use the hour as a study hall, I tried to start my essay. Unfortunately, the only subjects that occurred to me in thirty minutes of staring at the screen were, “What’s Up with Jake?” “I Wonder How I Should Act When I See Jake?” “My Lab Partner’s Current Thoughts and Emotions,” and “The Mind of the Buzz-Cut Asian Dude.” I finally gave up and forced myself to finish going over the essays Ms. Renner had given me. At the very least, concentrating on correcting someone else’s grammar meant less time spent visualizing embarrassing Jake-centric scenarios. I ended up getting jealous that the other kids were writing about cool, random stuff like designing and sewing their own clothes, or their pet Angora rabbit scaring the hell out of people who didn’t know what it was. I was particularly impressed-slash-annoyed by the one titled “Thirty Parties in Thirty Days,” which, though glaringly inappropriate for a college essay, was incredibly fun to read. I was pretty sure I hadn’t been to thirty parties in my entire high school career.

  And then suddenly it was last period and I was sitting at my lab table in physics. “Uh, hey,” I said over the sound of the bell as Jake sat down next to me. He was wearing tan cords and a black T-shirt with a skull and crossbones on the front, and I inwardly winced at the shirt’s appropriateness.

  “Hey,” he replied, grinning. Uh-oh. That already wasn’t good. But his smile faded when he saw the look on my face, and disappeared completely when I muttered, “I kind of need to talk to you about Saturday but I don’t wanna do it in class. So can we just get this over with and I’ll talk to you after?” I opened up my physics binder in as businesslike a manner as possible.

  “Yeah,” he answered, his face neutral, all traces of his good mood gone. He scooted his chair marginally farther away from me, and neither of us said anything the rest of the hour except for the bare necessities, like, “Can you hand me that?” and, “I think you’ve got the angle of that trajectory wrong.” When the bell rang, he followed me out of the classroom and into a side hall. The hall emptied quickly as everyone headed out the doors toward home.

  “Um, so…Saturday.” I set my book bag on the floor and
leaned back against the wall, nervously pulling my shirt sleeves down over my hands.

  “Yeah.” Jake was standing stiffly a few feet away, his face unreadable. He crossed his arms, then uncrossed them, then crossed them again, the fingers of his right hand fiddling with the edge of his left T-shirt sleeve.

  “That wasn’t—did you tell anyone about that?” I asked.

  “Of course not.”

  “Thank God,” I blurted. Jake glared at me. I flushed with embarrassment, realizing how insulting my obvious relief must sound.

  “Sorry, that didn’t come out right,” I said, my words starting to speed up. “But I mean—look, I’m sorry, but that just wasn’t really me that day, if that makes any sense. I wasn’t thinking straight, and again, I’m really sorry, and it’s probably best if we could just forget it ever happened.” I took a deep breath. “Okay?”

  “Sure, fine,” Jake answered simply. He suddenly seemed kind of checked out. He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the graffiti along the edge of a bulletin board a few feet away, which read, “If you can read this, good for you for being literate, and if you are still reading this, you are wasting a bunch of your own time, dumbass.”

  “Because I have a boyfriend and I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea,” I added.

  “Yeah, I know.” Jake shifted on his feet like he was about to turn and walk away, not as an escape, but just totally casually. He didn’t look mad or embarrassed. He didn’t look sad; he didn’t look happy—he didn’t look anything. We might as well have been talking about the weather. Actually, if we’d been talking about the weather he might’ve been more engaged, since he’d been complaining last week that it sort of creeped him out when it was both sunny and cold at the same time, and today was one of those days.

  “So…I guess that’s it,” I said uncertainly. A million questions flew through my mind. Was he mad at me? Did he think it was all just a lark? Did kissing “me” mean anything to him? Did he actually like me? But this conversation clearly wasn’t headed in that direction.

  “Cool.” Jake started to walk off.

  “I just didn’t want it to be awkward or anything….”

  Jake turned around and came back. “So don’t make it awkward,” he said, a hint of a smile forming at the corners of his mouth.

  “I’m trying not to,” I said.

  “By dragging me out in the hallway and rambling at me?” Jake’s eyes betrayed amusement and his voice had regained its usual snark.

  “Oh, shut up,” I said, picking up my book bag and swinging it so that it lightly bonked him on the arm.

  “I mean, I’d love to sit here and listen to you go on and on about how you want to pretend something never happened,” Jake continued, “because going on and on about something is totally the best way to pretend it never happened.” He smirked at me.

  “Okay, you made your point,” I said, smiling back at him. “End of story.”

  “Cool, see ya tomorrow then.” He ambled away down the hall.

  “Bye,” I called to his retreating back. He waved over his shoulder without looking.

  Well.

  I shook my head a little as I slung my bag over my shoulder and started walking toward my car. I was glad the whole kiss fiasco had been so easy to clear up, but a tiny part of me was also annoyed. Apparently, I’d spent most of my weekend worrying over something that had turned out to be not a big deal at all. Not even a medium deal. Or a small deal. In fact, it was a total lack of deal, and while it was certainly better than if he’d flipped out and gotten angry, it also meant that the time and energy I’d spent on thinking about this had been completely and totally wasted. Plus, much as I hated to admit it, there was a part of me that was a little—not disappointed, really, but—surprised, I guess, that Jake really didn’t seem to care. Either that, or he had an Oscar-winning acting career in his future.

  But it was an extreme relief to know that I didn’t have to worry about losing my boyfriend. Hell, maybe I can even get an essay topic out of this, I thought to myself as I unlocked my car door and got in. “It’s Totally Okay to Guilt Your Twin into Doing Menial Tasks for You Even Though Her Ill-Advised Make-Out Session Did Nobody Any Harm”?

  Clearly my brain was beginning to break down.

  Rina’s face peeked out from an upstairs window as I drove up to my house. She met me at the door, practically bouncing on her tiptoes, and dragged me upstairs to show me that she’d washed, folded, and shelved my laundry, and then dusted every surface in my room.

  “I didn’t move anything, don’t worry. I know you’ve got your whole system right now for finals and stuff,” she said, indicating the piles of books and papers she’d left on the floor exactly where they were supposed to be, and then eagerly running her hand over the top of my computer monitor and bookshelves to demonstrate how completely dust-free they were.

  “Wow,” I said, looking around. “Thanks.”

  “Still trying to make up for that Jake thing,” she said. “Least I could do.”

  “Well, I talked to him,” I told her. “He didn’t tell anyone, thank God. And he seems to have already sort of forgotten about it, or is at least pretending to, which is good enough for me.”

  “Oh.” She looked a little crestfallen before perking back up. “That’s awesome! Now you don’t have to worry—it’s like it never happened!” She clapped her hands.

  “Hey,” I said, a note of warning in my voice, “just because this one thing turned out okay doesn’t mean it always will, so don’t go getting too enthusiastic. Next thing you know, you’ll be hooking up with half the football team and everyone at school will be calling me Kate Fellate.”

  Rina giggled. “Ha! That’s hilarious!”

  “Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.” I glared at her.

  “Yeah, I do,” she said. “Sorry. So how was school?”

  “Fine.” I disentangled myself from my coat and inched toward my computer.

  “How’re the girls?” Rina bounced onto my bed and looked at me expectantly. “Did they say anything about last night?”

  “Not really,” I answered, opening up my government notes and pulling up the pages on the last several Supreme Courts. “I think Kyla might’ve mocked me for being spaced out, but that’s not exactly a weird occurrence.”

  “Did Laurin say anything about Steve Suarez?” Rina asked.

  I turned to her, surprised. “Something’s up with Laurin and Steve Suarez?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Didn’t I tell you when I got back? Oh my God, I’m sorry!”

  “No, it’s fine, it’s not like I asked.” I hadn’t. Rina had gotten home after my mom, so after she’d sneaked back upstairs, we’d only talked a little, in case my mom overheard. She had read (speedily flipping between Harry Potter book four, Wuthering Heights, and two issues of Allure), and I’d studied until we both fell asleep. I was bummed that I’d missed out on some crucial gossip. Laurin had hooked up with Steve’s brother Robby last year, but he’d graduated, and now apparently she’d moved on to the younger model. Scandalous.

  “So what happened with them?” I asked.

  “Oh, nothing that I know of—that’s why I was asking you,” Rina said. “Laurin just said she was thinking about it.”

  “That little vixen,” I said, grinning.

  “Is she?” Rina asked.

  “Not at all, actually. That’s why this is somewhat big news.”

  “But Anne kind of is, huh?” Rina said. “That thing with Porter last year…And by the way, I think she has a crush on Paul.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Good observation skills,” I told her. “That’s been kicking around forever. And I can’t really do anything about it because they’re still friends.”

  “Eh, I wouldn’t worry about her,” Rina answered. “We’re way hotter.” She grinned at me. “So will you tell me everything you guys talked about today? At lunch or between classes or whatever? I want to make sure I don’t miss out on anything.”


  “Uh…sure,” I said, glancing back at my notes. “After I finish studying though, okay?”

  “Okay!” We heard the garage door opening and Rina quickly retreated to the closet, grabbing the fifth Harry Potter book and one of my photo albums. “I can’t wait to hear about everyone!” She sat down on her sleeping bag and nudged the door closed.

  All of her questions felt a little weird, but clearly she hadn’t had much of a social life in SimuLife. And I was actually kind of looking forward to discussing all my friends with her and getting a second opinion on whether or not Kyla should dye her hair, or whether Carmen’s twice-weekly pedicures were total overkill or just semi-overkill, or who Paul’s friend Decker should date next. Hell, if Rina had shown up, say, late second semester after I’d already gotten into college and was cruising out the rest of the school year, things might’ve been very different.

  But she hadn’t. She’d shown up now. And I had work to do.

  Bleh.

  I turned back to my computer.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  TUESDAY, DECEMBER 11

  THE NEXT MORNING, I HIT THE SNOOZE button a split second after my alarm rang. “No,” I half-mumbled, half-moaned, scrunching down and throwing the covers over my head.

  Ten minutes later I did it again, falling back asleep so quickly that I didn’t even register hitting the clock.

  And then I did it again, reasoning that I could just eat a Clif bar in the car.

  And then I did it again.

  After that, either my alarm clock gave up and didn’t bother ringing anymore, or I kept hitting snooze without even waking up. By the time I was poked awake by Rina’s none-too-gentle finger in my ribs, I had nineteen minutes to make it into my desk in AP English.

  Dammit.

  “Morning!” Rina said. She was dressed in a pair of my jeans and a red long-sleeved tee layered over a white one. Her hair looked cute—the dark brown waves were swept back from her face with a few bronze-colored bobby pins—and she was holding my book bag.