One would think that completing one’s math homework would be quite effortless, being in the top set at school and all.

Obviously not.

Evelyn Stratford was having extreme difficulty in calculating the simplest of calculus problems. She gritted her teeth together and continued in gripping her pencil and punching numbers furiously into her calculator, which would have fallen apart if she had not chosen that precise moment to march to her sister’s adjoining room in hopes of decreasing the number of decibels that came from her room.

“ELEANOR!” Evelyn yelled, flinging the door open more forcefully than she would have normally.

Her sister flinched at the sound of her full name.

“It’s Ella, okay?” she said, completely indifferent to Evelyn’s rage.

“ELEANOR!” Evelyn yelled again. “WILL YOU TURN THAT CRAP OFF?”

Eleanor, or Ella, shot her sister a ‘Excuse-me-but-they-just-happen-to-be-Matchbox-Twenty-a.k.a.-my-favourite-band’ look. Evelyn sighed and folded her arms, exhaling deeply.

“Not that I have anything against Matchbox Twenty, but it’s kind of preventing me from completing my calculus homework. Will you please lower the volume?” Evelyn said, fighting to control her temper. Eleanor continued to ignore her sister’s request and proceeded to paint her toenails a clear pink colour.

“Do you think I should do my fingernails in the same shade?” she asked, examining the colour of the nail polish. Evelyn muttered something under her breath and walked over to her sister’s hi-fi system and switched the power off.

“Hey! I was listening to that!” Ella exclaimed. Evelyn smirked.

“Not anymore.” She said, inconspicuously unplugging the hi-fi system altogether. It would take her sister quite awhile to figure out what she had done, and with a little bit of luck, Evelyn would have finished her calculus by then.

“Ev, this is totally unacceptable. You can’t just walk into my room and touch my things. I bought it with my own money. You can’t touch it.” She repeated, standing up.

“Oh yes, I remember. You’re a model.” Evelyn snorted.

“Are you being stereotypical again? Being a model just means you have a great figure and an attractive face.” Ella retorted, leveling with her sister’s steely gaze.

“I don’t have anything against you and your kind, but the next time you go shopping, you might want to buy some revision workbooks, because you’re failing half your classes.” She said, turning around to leave.

“I’m not failing half my classes. I just can’t be bothered with them. There’s more to life than studying all day and gradually becoming a hermit, you know.” Ella smirked.

“At this rate, you’re not going to have a life if mom and dad find out about this.” Evelyn reminded her. Ella rolled her eyes, dismissing the notion with a wave of her hand.

“Evelyn, I’m getting straight C’s in those classes. That’s not failing. And besides, I can pull up those grades whenever I want. Which is… never.” She added with a satisfied grin.

Evelyn didn’t know what to say. Never in all her life had she met someone so spoilt and ungrateful for her opportunities. And it just happened that this person was her sister. Her identical twin sister.

“Anyway, did you know that Penelope is holding a party over at her house next Saturday? They say that Anthony Parker is going to be there.” Ella said with a dreamy smile. Her sister gave a sigh and left her sister’s room, preparing to face her calculus problems again.

Anthony Parker. The President’s son. The current ‘most sought after bachelor’ in all of America.

Evelyn gave a snort, sitting down in her chair.

What were the chances of Ella winning over the President’s son?

What were the chances of Ella even meeting him?

As far as Evelyn was concerned, the answer to both questions was zilch.

Grateful for the much needed silence, she zoomed through the questions and in less than half an hour, she had completed all ten questions.

Just as well, Evelyn thought, because at that very moment, ‘Unwell’ (which was also one of Evelyn’s favourites) started blaring through the walls.