Chapter One

“Come on,” Lynne Sanders called to me, “let’s go out.”

I shook my head. “No, I have to study.”

She stared back in disbelief. “Jeez, Viola, we’re finally seniors—finally17—and you want to study?”

I looked down sullenly. “Pardon me for wanting to get into college. Which college are you going to? A community college?” I sneered.

Lynne’s eyes turned hard. “Whatever. Live your life in this stuffy room for all I care.”

Then she left with a slam. I winced but I wasn’t the going out type that Lynne was. She didn’t understand that I preferred staying at home. I wasn’t quite as social as Lynne. Lynne who has had about thirteen boyfriends since the age of 12. Lynne who has had average grades, her essays and tests decorated with red marks; whereas my grades were always A’s or A plus’s and my essays were a little less than perfect and the only marks on my tests were the 100 marks.

Yet she was the one who got along with everyone in the school and I was the one in the library studying. She was the one with the boyfriends and I have had none at all. It’s not that I wanted a boyfriend—because I didn’t. It’s just that we looked exactly the same.

That’s right, identical twins.

The only difference between our looks was that my hair was down to my waist and Lynne’s hair was to her shoulders. She put on mascara sometimes because she believed natural beauty was better. I didn’t put make-up on at all because I thought it was nasty.

She wore clothes from Abercrombie and Fitch, Hollister, and American Eagle. I wore clothes that I bought online.

Lynne stood out like a queen amongst homeless people and I stuck out like a needle in a haystack.

How many times did I often hear people say that Lynne was the preferred twin? We looked exactly the same! How is it possible that she’s better?

Before I could retreat back into my hole of insecurity, my cell phone rang.

“Hello?” I said.

“Hello, may I please speak to Viola?” the voice asked.

I laughed. “You know, you don’t have to keep asking since this is my cell phone.”

“Oh. Well, I want to ask anyways. It’s called being polite,” she said.

“No, it’s called being silly, Stella,” I chortled. Stella Greene, one of my best friends, often called for homework and sometimes called just to chat. I don’t blame her though, to keep her position as number 1 for four years straight in our grade, she had to study often.

“Anyways… What’s the FRQ?” she asked.

In our AP Government class, every Friday, our teacher, Mr. Kunka gives us questions to prepare us for the AP exams. I couldn’t quite remember the full name of the FRQ, but we all called it by its abbreviation.

“It’s,” I flipped through my agenda, “about how a bill becomes a law and how to prevent a bill from becoming a law.”

“Okay, thanks,” Stella said. “What are you doing?”

I sighed. “I’m studying.”

“What’s with the sigh?” Stella inquired. She paused. “Oh, is it Lynne again?”

I nodded, though Stella wouldn’t be able to see me. “What is with her and going out all the time?”

“Not everyone wants to be smart like you, Viola,” Stella teased.

“Yeah, yeah,” I murmured.

“Cheer up, Viola, not all siblings get along,” she tried lifting my spirits.

“I suppose,” I said. I heard my mom come home and told Stella that I had to go. We said our goodbyes and I walked downstairs to help my mom bring the groceries in.

“Hey Mom,” I said.

“Hey, honey,” Mom gave me a one armed hug and carried the bags into the kitchen. “I’m making spaghetti tonight.”

I nodded.

“It’s Lynne’s favorite dish,” Mom continued saying. “Lynne loves Italian food.”

Dad walked in and quietly walked to the fridge.

I froze when Mom mentioned Lynne. To Mom, Lynne was the perfect daughter. To me, she was the imperfect sister.

She continued talking about Lynne. “I’m also making garlic bread! That silly girl, she loves everything with garlic. It’s quite unnatural.”

I looked at everywhere besides my mom. I noticed Dad quietly watching us.

“Do… do you know what my favorite dish is… Mom?”