She paid me fifty bucks to take an oral Spanish exam for her last week, one she “completely forgot I had.” I scored her a solid 82. No point in getting her an A. She took my spot in Physics that day, pretending to be me so I wouldn’t get a detention for skipping class. We had a pop quiz. She took it for me, scoring me a miserable 47. Now I was looking at doing extra-credit work for the rest of the term to even manage a B.

I got back at her though. Still pretending to be Maddy, I went and found Jenna and told her I wasn’t feeling well and was staying home that night. Then I called Mom to tell her the same thing. Maddy was beyond pissed; she’d unintentionally got herself a Friday night at home in bed with Mom hovering and me gloating. As for Jenna … I’d never heard that girl scream so loud in my life, something about a family dinner to celebrate her birthday that Maddy had promised she’d be at. Oh well, not my problem.

“Ella, please,” Maddy begged, pulling me from that memory. “I’ll make it up to you. I swear. Whatever you want.”

“You always say that, Maddy.”

“I know, but I mean it this time. Please.”

I had a memory full of promises just like that one. Difference was, I kept my promises. Maddy’s were nothing more than hollow assurances aimed at getting people to do what she wanted.

We were so different. Maddy was skirts and heels and flatirons, where I was jeans and T-shirts and ponytails. She was Friday-night parties and homecoming dances. I was B-rated horror movies on the couch with microwave popcorn. From her perfect hair to her perfect friends, right down to her perfectly pedicured toes, Maddy was my opposite.

“Ella? Ella!” Maddy shouted into the phone.

The muffled crying I’d heard earlier was gone, her rapid breathing and rising pitch lending an edge of panic to her voice. I don’t know why she’d freak; it’s not like I’d ever say no. She was my sister, my twin sister at that, and I would always help her.

“Fine. Whatever,” I said, and grabbed a sweatshirt from the end of my bed. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

I quickly flipped through my drawings, picked the best of four sketches of the exact same subject, and carefully tore it out. Surprisingly, it was the first one I’d done. I scanned it in, adding it to the ones I’d already uploaded, and hit the Submit button. It was only October 18. The application wasn’t due for another two weeks, but, like I said, I wanted it in early. Plus, if Maddy expected me to drop everything to come get her, then the least she could do was wait the ten extra minutes it’d take me to e-mail my art school application.

My dog, Bailey, hopped down off my bed the minute I stood up, intent on following me around. He beat me to my bedroom door, then waited as if he needed my permission. Knowing him, he’d bark the second I left the house, letting me know he was not happy staying behind. I didn’t mind him being angry. He was a dog, he’d get over it in less than a second. What I didn’t want was Bailey to wake my parents up. It was bad enough I had to go bail Maddy out. I didn’t feel like dealing with Mom and Dad’s questions, too.

I grabbed a treat from the box I kept on my nightstand and hid it beneath the covers on my bed. Bailey did as I expected; he jumped up and started nosing through my comforter. I’d hidden it deep enough that it would take Bailey a while to find, hopefully long enough for me to get out of the house unnoticed.

I poked my head into my parents’ room before heading downstairs. They were asleep, the TV still casting a pale blue light. I thought about turning it off but figured the sudden lack of noise might wake them up. My eye caught the array of pictures covering Mom’s dresser. The flickering glow from the TV gave a hint of what they were, but I didn’t need to see the photos to describe each one. They’d been there for as long as I could remember.

The big one in the middle was a family portrait taken three Christmases ago. We were gathered around a fake fireplace in some photographer’s studio. The scowl on my face was the source of a huge argument that day. Next to that was a picture of Maddy and me on our sixteenth birthday. She looked stunning and was staring off into the distance, probably at Alex. I was standing there praying for Mom to hurry up and take the damn thing so I could go back to my room. The other three pictures were of Maddy. Maddy after her field hockey team won divisionals her sophomore year. Maddy and Alex at junior prom last year. Maddy with the keys to her “new” car.

It was the same in real life. At my father’s office Christmas party, she was the one he introduced first. When we went to church, she got to sit between them. When a relative or an old friend asked my mom about the twins, it was Maddy’s accomplishments Mom launched into first. Me they were still trying to figure out.

I was the smart, quiet one who preferred the inside of a book to parties. Quirky and reserved, that’s how they described me to their friends. Quirky and reserved.

I quietly closed the door and made my way downstairs. It was pitch-black outside, the moon hidden behind a thick bank of clouds. It had rained earlier and, from the looks of it, was going to again.

I grabbed my coat and hat from the hall closet and headed outside. Luckily, the neighbors had left their porch lights on, or I would’ve walked smack into the trash cans at the end of our driveway. As it was, I’d already stumbled twice—once over Bailey’s half-chewed rope toy and again, steps later, over a sprinkler head. That last one landed me on my butt, cursing and trying to brush the dampness from my jeans.

When I finally made it to my car, I realized Maddy’s car was in the way. She’d parked straight across our driveway, blocking everybody in.

“Seriously, Maddy?” I said as I kicked her tire. It’d be fine if she was the first to leave in the morning, but she never was. Maddy was always the last one out the door, putting her makeup on in the rearview mirror while she raced to school. It was me who rearranged the cars each morning so Dad could get to work and I could get to school.

I winced at my throbbing toe and made my way back to the house. Moving the cars around wasn’t an option. If turning off the TV had the potential to wake my parents up, then shuffling cars in the driveway would certainly have them stumbling down the stairs wondering where I was going.

I hung my keys on the hook next to the door. There were five hooks there, each clearly labeled with a name. Mine, Dad’s, Mom’s, Maddy’s, even one designated for the lawn tractor keys, but Maddy’s weren’t there. Of course they wouldn’t be there. Knowing her, she’d probably thrown them on the counter when she came in, figuring one of us would find them and hang them up.

“This is the last time, Maddy. I swear to God, this is the last time I do anything for you,” I muttered to myself as I fished around our kitchen counters in the dark. She couldn’t make bailing her out easy. Nope, Maddy had to make everything as difficult as possible.

I finally found her keys wedged behind the radio. I picked them up, swearing to tear her a new one for being so selfish, then headed back out into the damp night air. If everything went as it should, I’d be home and in bed in less than a half hour with another of Maddy’s promises to make it up to me stashed away in my brain.

2

It was drizzling by the time I reached Alex’s house. Except for a few scattered cars parked between the trees, you’d never have known there was a party going on. I guess that was a perk of being really rich—a long driveway and lots of land to buffer sound.

I remembered the day Maddy met Alex Furey. We were freshmen, and it was our third day of school. I thought going to a new school with my sister would make everything easier, figured I’d have at least one person to sit with at the lunch table. I didn’t take into account that we had no classes together, that Maddy was a lot more outgoing than me, or that we had very little in common. I assumed we’d stick together, and I’d have a built-in safety net.