Identical

by Ellen Hopkins

  and take a step toward

  the front door.

  That’s as far as I get.

  Daddy’s hand clamps

  around my wrist. Wait

  just a minute. Do you

  remember last night?

  Now my teeth grind

  uncomfortably. What

  about last night, exactly,

  does he want to discuss?

  “Uh, sure, Daddy.”

  All right, then. No rides

  with any Brittanys,

  okay? I want you all

  in one piece. He doesn’t

  say just what for.

  So of Course

  Who comes chugging up

  as I wait for the bus

  but the very Brittany

  in question. Wanna ride?

  She’s alone in the car,

  an explanation at the ready.

  The guys got in trouble

  for being late yesterday.

  Well, so did I, but I don’t

  want to talk about it. “Ah.”

  Get in. My mom bought me

  all new tires, so you’re safe.

  Not really, but I don’t want

  to say that, either. “Um…”

  You’re not scared, are you?

  She almost looks hurt.

  I glance around, see no sign

  of Daddy. “Oh, why not?”

  Cool. Let’s go. Don’t want

  to be late two days in a row!

  No, we most definitely

  don’t want that.

  We Actually Arrive

  Ten minutes early. And I have

  to admit even Brittany’s nonstop

  chatter wasn’t as bad as listening

  to freshmen guys talk about zits.

  I can’t believe I actually defied

  Daddy in such an overt manner.

  But it feels good. Even better,

  in fact, than missing the zit talk.

  At least as long as I don’t get

  caught. That probably wouldn’t

  feel too great. So far so good,

  though you never know where

  his spies might be hiding. No

  use worrying about them now.

  Brittany parks. A bit crooked,

  but what else could I expect?

  She giggles. Even new tires

  can’t help my peripheral vision.

  I’m supposed to wear glasses,

  but they make me look ugly.

  Oh, wonderful. I can just see

  the news: Judge’s daughter

  killed in accident with not-ugly

  half-blind friend at the wheel.

  I File That Away

  Thank Brittany for the ride,

  head toward the human knots

  clogging the locker breezeways.

  Pre-first-bell yells. Catcalls.

  Laughter. A few tears.

  Nothing out of the ordinary.

  But just as I reach my own

  locker, a loud guffaw makes

  me turn to search for its source.

  It’s Shaun, apparently the chief

  of a small tribe of geeks. When

  I draw my glare even with his eyes,

  he turns his back to me, lowers

  his voice, and says something

  to his not-so-braves that makes

  them all laugh out loud.

  Something inside me snaps,

  almost audibly. I slam

  my locker, take dead aim at

  the geeklets’ chieftain. Straight

  up in his face, “Something funny?”

  His eyes dart back and forth

  among his stick figure friends.

  But no one comes to the rescue.

  Uh. No. Not really. Then he tries

  to draw strength from numbers.

  We were just talking about girls

  and what they do for attention.

  He pulls himself up as tall as he

  possibly can. What do you do?

  If his buddies think about

  laughing, the look on my face

  must make them think twice.

  Ice-cold anger pulses in my veins.

  I can feel it in my temples. And

  something else, too. Something

  brand-new. “Anything I do is no

  business of yours, you little shit.

  But if you want my attention,

  here it is.” That something new—

  courage—brings my palms flat

  against his shoulders. Hard.

  Hard Enough

  To make him stumble backward,

  bump his head against a post.

  I’ll probably get in real trouble

  for this, but at the moment I couldn’t

  care less. “Enough attention?”

  This time his friends do laugh.

  Shaun’s face turns the color

  of strawberry jam. What the fuck

  is your problem? Not my fault

  you’re a trashy little skank.

  Suddenly a hand is at my elbow

  and a voice falls into my ear.

  C’mon. This is beneath you. Ian!

  He turns on his brother. You shut

  your mouth and keep it that way.

  Ian puts his arm around my

  shoulder, guides me away from

  the dissolving drama. Dueling

  emotions take aim inside me.

  Relief. Hurt. Happiness. Fury.

  We turn a corner and at the far

  end of the building, few eyes

  to see, Ian pulls me into his chest.

  My eyes sting and my legs go weak

  and I let myself gather his strength.

  The first bell rings and I start

  to pull away, but his arms grip

  tighter. Tell me what happened.

  He looks down into my tear-

  blurred eyes, and next thing

  I know we’re kissing. Really,

  truly kissing, like it’s from the heart

  and we really mean it and there’s no

  one else, never will be. Finally I have

  to come up for air. “I love you.”

  It Just Slipped

  Out of my mouth, and the strange

  thing is, I really mean it. But still,

  I feel all jumbled up inside,

  like someone put my brain in

  a blender, turned it to “crush.”

  Ian’s eyes tell me he feels the same

  way. I love you, too, you know I do.

  But you always have me walking

  on eggshells. Oh, if you would just

  let me love you the way I want to…

  Fire. Ice. Honey. Salt. Eiderdown.

  Iron. Every fiber of me twitches

  confusion. I love him, and he loves

  me. So, then, “Why did you tell

  your brother that I sleep around?”

  He draws back, but only a little,

  only enough to look deep into

  my eyes, show me the sudden

  anger in his. I never said any such

  thing. Did he tell you I told him that?

  “He said he heard you say I’m

  into other guys. Why would

  you say that? And who did you

  say it to?” Before he can craft

  an answer, the second bell rings.

  Saved by the Bell

  The hallways

  flood with bodies,

  faces, voices, hustling

  here and there. Locked

  together, despite the inner

  wedge, Ian and I draw a few

  stares. Definitely not the right

  time to continue such an intense

  conversation. Can we talk about it

  later? asks Ian, knowing I have little

  choice but to respond positively. He walks

  me to class, right arm protectively around my


  waist. Despite smarting at the wound of his careless

  words, I decide I like how I feel, joined to him in such

  an overt way. Especially when we turn the corner and

  come face-to-face

  with Madison

  and, just over

  there, Shaun.

  I’m Generally Not Big

  On smirking. But noticing

  how the smiles drop from both

  Shaun’s and Madison’s faces,

  I can’t seem to

  help

  it. Booyah! Major smirk.

  It gets better. Madison is no

  more than two feet away

  when Ian bends down to kiss

  me

  good-bye. I so totally let him,

  even though a very, very big

  part of me needs him to give

  me a plausible explanation so

  I

  can get beyond his brother’s

  knife-edged words. “Talk to

  you later,” I say as he walks

  past Madison. I can’t help but

  think

  she’s responsible, and I’m not

  sure what to do about it if Ian’s

  story involves her. Ian. All

  thoughts of Madison evaporate.

  I’m in love.

  And I like how that feels.

  And I hate how that feels.

  Because love is an invention

  of fiction writers.

  Raeanne

  Glad I’ve Got History Today

  I need a major dose of Lawler

  to keep my mind off other

  things. I wish I could

  help

  Kaeleigh work her way past

  all the major crap so she could

  accept the good things waiting

  for her, almost within reach. Ask

  me,

  she doesn’t need someone

  like Madison to mess things up

  for her. She sabotages herself.

  C’est la vie. It is life. Her life.

  I

  suppose I myself am something

  of a self-saboteur, in a constant

  search for “more.” More drugs.

  More men. More sex. Do you

  think

  there’s really such a thing as

  “enough”? The rhetoric draws

  a heartfelt sigh, and Mr. Lawler

  turns. Smiles. Oh yeah, I think

  I’m in love.

  I Swear His Smile

  Means more than “How’s it going?”

  Not that I’m a smile expert or

  anything, but something about

  that one sure reads “Damn, you

  look fine.” Even correctly

  interpreted, though, it doesn’t

  necessarily mean, “Let’s sneak

  on outta here and do the dirty.”

  Whatever it means, as he passes

  out Monday’s graded pop quizzes,

  he bends just enough for me to make

  out the thick ropes of muscles

  beneath his trousers. Abductors.

  Hamstrings. Gluteus. Mm-hmm.

  Oh yeah, I remember human

  anatomy. Especially his.

  Committed to memory. He works

  his way down the aisle, and now

  his cologne settles around me,

  a soft, masculine cloud. When

  he reaches my desk, he leans

  slightly forward, and I notice

  the not-too-massive, totally

  hot patch of blondish hair

  peeking out of the open

  buttons just below his collar.

  His eyes smile. Great job,

  Ms. Gardella. If only everyone

  in here cared about history

  the way you do. He holds

  out my quiz, a big red A+

  at the top. When I reach for

  it, our hands touch. Definite

  fireworks, and I’m 90

  percent sure it’s mutual.

  I try to say thanks, but

  my voice feels like a wad

  of gum in my throat and it

  comes out all hoarse and weird,

  “Th…nksss.” That makes me

  snort a little laugh. “Sorry.

  Not sure what’s in there…”

  I leave the rest hanging.

  And he so totally gets it.

  Am I Sick or What?

  I mean, how many guys do I need on the line?

  I haven’t seen Mick in several days, but he left

  a voice message on my cell: Are you mad

  at me or what? Call me. You’ll like what I’ve got.

  I assume he’s talking weed. It’s been a couple

  of days and the truth is, I’m so wanting a buzz.

  I could call Ty, ask for a bit steeper high (low?).

  Oh yeah, how low can we go? Loaded question.

  But even without those two on my “available”

  list, why would I even consider Mr. Lawler?

  He’s not only “mature,” but a frigging teacher.

  Cute teacher, sure, but that’s not the point.

  The point is: Why do I think he’d consider me?

  It’s a Game, That’s All

  And I’m good at games,

  and betting Lawler is good

  at them too. I watch him

  lecture, trying to reach these

  dimwads who couldn’t care

  less about why yesterday

  influences today, thus creates

  tomorrow. He’s so sincere,

  so well-learned (so disgustingly

  cute), and I seem to be the only

  one who even bothers to notice.

  More power to me, I guess.

  And power, after all, is what

  I’m after. At last, the bell

  rings and once everyone leaves,

  I decide to up the ante a little.

  (Okay, a lot.) I corner Mr. Lawler.

  “Excuse me. I’ve got some

  questions about the term paper.

  Could we possibly get together

  to discuss the direction I’m taking?”

  Cat and Mouse

  That’s the name of this game,

  old as the Garden of Eden.

  I lead. “I’d appreciate your

  advice. Maybe after school?

  His eyes flash interest.

  After school? Why not now?

  I shrug. “Have a lunch date.”

  He smiles. I see. Well…

  “Please? I’ll buy you a cup

  of coffee.” I lock his eyes.

  He does not look away. I can

  give you some time, I guess.

  Ka-ching! Damn, he is fine.

  Where should we meet up?

  “How ’bout the library in town?

  I’ll be doing some research.”

  Sounds like a plan. Maybe

  around four o’clock?

  “Perfect.” He so totally is.

  And he so totally knows it.

  I Really Do

  Have a lunch date. I haven’t

  seen Mick since the scene

  with the cop. Can’t believe

  I miss him, but I do. He’s not

  the brightest guy out there,

  for sure. But he knows how

  to show a girl a good time.

  Truth is, more than missing

  Mick, I miss catching a lunchtime

  buzz. I wish I could just

  buy a personal stash, keep it

  around. But no way do I dare

  take that kind of a chance. Not

  sure who would kill me first

  (or worst)—Daddy or Mom.

  Not to say I won’t taunt fate

  just a little. Or maybe a lot.

  I refuse to smoke in transit.

  That cop probably looks for

  the Avalanche.
And me. So

  after Mick and I rendezvous,

  we will take a little spin to

  the Gardella residence, which,

  hopefully, will be vacant.

  While I Might Taunt Fate

  I will not taunt Madison, who

  seems ever more determined

  to interfere in my life. Not to

  mention Kaeleigh’s life, like she

  needs any more drama! I couldn’t

  help but notice her with Ian

  this morning. If she could be

  like that with him more often,

  they both just might find a big

  scoop of happiness with each

  other. But that won’t happen

  if Madison has her way. Guess

  she thinks fucking with Kaeleigh

  is fucking with me. And she’s right.

  Anyway, I’m not in the mood

  for her stupidity, so instead of

  Mick picking me up at school,

  I told him to pick me up at

  El Rancho. The market has

  served the fine folks here in

  the valley since before I was

  born. Glad to know some things

  have staying power. In my

  admittedly limited realm

  of existence, El Rancho has

  outlasted every relationship

  I’ve ever had. Then again, in my

  realm relationships are meaningless.

  I Hoof It North

  A hundred or so yards, pause

  before crossing the highway.

  And who should happen to go

  screaming past but my unique

  (if meaningless) relationship, Ty.

  Taillights flash red and brakes

  squeal displeasure. Guess he saw