Identical

by Ellen Hopkins

  be. They say you learn by example. But no one has

  set one for me. I only love one person on this entire

  planet. And he only loves Kaeleigh. My daddy loves

  Kaeleigh. Ian loves Kaeleigh. And she’s incapable

  of loving either of them back. What a waste.

  She only loves Mom. What in

  the hell is wrong with

  her, anyway?

  Then again, I know something about

  our mother that Kaeleigh can’t quite recall, and

  if she did, she’d probably dive off a very tall bridge,

  into shallow water. Stop! Can’t think about that

  now, or I’ll have to join Kaeleigh, jump into

  ultimate freedom. I must admit I have

  considered that leap from time

  to time. But I’m afraid

  to die loveless.

  Afraid to Die Loveless

  Because

  I think if

  you die

  without

  knowing

  love in

  this life,

  that’s how

  you’ll

  spend

  eternity.

  Alone.

  Frozen.

  Do you

  think hell

  is fiery?

  I don’t.

  I think

  hell is

  frozen.

  Before the Other Night

  It was a while since Daddy went

  to Kaeleigh, saturated with misguided

  love and the overwhelming need to

  own her completely. To prove

  he owns her completely. Prove

  it to her. Prove it to himself.

  He can never own me. Maybe

  that’s why he doesn’t bother me.

  I can give myself to whomever

  I please, in any way I damn

  well choose. Key word: choose.

  If I say okay, well then it is.

  I wonder what will happen

  to Daddy when we turn eighteen

  and Kaeleigh can move away.

  I wonder, codependent as she

  seems to be on their sick

  relationship, if she ever will.

  No one will even notice when

  I go. I’d leave now, but if I did,

  Kaeleigh would have no one

  but Ian. And sorry, but the odds

  are long that he’ll hang around.

  Too many easier scores.

  Being Easier

  Isn’t really such a bad thing.

  It can get you what you want.

  Yeah, yeah, I know what

  they call someone who barters

  her body in exchange for

  something she wants. A wife!

  Get it? Okay, never mind.

  But it doesn’t bother me to use

  the one thing I’ve got that’s

  mine, all mine, to get what

  I want. Drugs. Liquor. Fun.

  Not like there’s a whole lot

  of that where I live. More

  drugs. Better drugs. Maybe

  it’s time to graduate from

  pot, hash, and pills to something

  stronger. That opiated stuff

  was great. Wonder what heroin

  is like. I hear it drops you way

  down, where pain can’t find you.

  Any Drugs

  Would be good right this moment.

  Heroin. Cocaine. Maybe ecstasy.

  Not too sure about psychedelics.

  They say acid and ’shrooms

  make you look inside your own head,

  help you learn about yourself.

  Sorry, not interested. I’m afraid

  if I looked inside my head, I’d

  find something really scary.

  Maybe if I walk into town I’ll run

  into some way to score. Ty never

  called back. He’s probably pissed

  ’cause I took so long to call him.

  Or maybe he found someone else,

  although I doubt he fell in love and

  changed his bachelor ways. Way too

  into himself, not the type to move

  in a habitual keeper, love or no love.

  No love to us, I’d still like to see

  Ty. It’s been a long week with

  nothing to smoke. I’ll call him again.

  The Biggest Surprise

  Of the week was not hearing

  a word from or about Mick.

  I expected a call, at the very least,

  telling me what a bitch I am.

  What I really expected was a knock

  on the door from a tan uniform,

  a trip to juvie, and major dishonor

  to Judge Raymond Gardella, not to

  mention his wife, the incoming

  freshman congresswoman. Phew!

  But no. Nada. Nothing. Not a hint

  of a problem. Maybe I should call

  Mick, apologize. Would he forgive

  me? Pick me up? Share a doob?

  I mean, really, it was his fault. Maybe

  that’s why he didn’t make trouble.

  Okay, I’m treading a fantasy—Mick,

  in my control. A shitload of bud. And me.

  But It Isn’t Mick

  Who comes idling up beside me

  at the midtown park where

  I spent the afternoon spying on

  tourists for sheer amusement value.

  No, it isn’t a big 4x4 that stops.

  In fact, it only has two wheels.

  Tuned and well-fed, Ian’s Yamaha

  hums contentedly. Ride?

  I know he can’t have confused me

  with Kaeleigh, who would not

  be happy to know Ian gave me a ride

  home. Like I care. “Sure.”

  He hands me his spare helmet,

  slides forward to make room, and as

  I slide my arms around him, I wonder

  if he might think I’m Kaeleigh after all.

  Nah. He knows her too well.

  Doesn’t he? One way to find out.

  I make my voice all sweet.

  “Take me for a cruise?”

  He pauses, tenses. Definitely

  confused. Then he shakes

  his head. Relaxes a level, but

  not completely. Where to?

  Highway 154

  Takes you all the way

  to Santa Barbara. It winds

  past cattle ranches and Lake

  Cachuma before cresting

  The San Marcos Pass and

  snaking down over the

  mountain. Just as you

  drop, you can turn off on

  the potholed road to Cold

  Spring Tavern. That’s where

  I asked to go. I love it there,

  where history looms large

  in the oak-decked beauty

  of old California. It’s late

  afternoon, and I find myself

  wishing I had a heavier jacket.

  I bury my face into Ian, inhale

  warmth and perfume of leather.

  Something very much like

  contentment threatens my

  equilibrium. Does Kaeleigh

  have a clue what she has here?

  Longing Lunges

  With sudden ferocity.

  What is wrong with me?

  I can’t. Can’t. Won’t. Will I?

  Ian pulls into a narrow

  parking space beside the road.

  Walk with me? He reaches

  for my hand and it dawns

  on me. He does think I’m

  Kaeleigh. How I want to be.

  I should tell him. Have to tell

  him, but my hand, tucked

  neatly into his, is so warm.

  I let it stay there as we work

  our way along a narrow trail.

  S
o much love, in the palm

  of his hand, folded around mine.

  Oh, Kaeleigh. Don’t you get it?

  Oh, Kaeleigh. To be his!

  I’m not even drunk, not stoned,

  not buzzed on pills. Perfectly

  straight, still I’m reeling.

  I should tell him. Have to tell

  him. But, hidden by forest,

  far from prying eyes,

  he pulls me against him. My

  head falls into his chest and I

  listen to the rhythm of his heart.

  I look up into his eyes,

  find the kind of love there

  I hunger for. Love, not meant

  for me. I vow to absorb it

  anyway, hold on to it as long

  as I can, even if for only a few

  seconds. I want to kiss him.

  Am going to kiss him, though

  I know if I do, he’ll realize

  he’s not kissing Kaeleigh.

  Hey, maybe he’ll fall out

  of love with her, and into

  love with me. So I stand

  on my tiptoes, reach up

  for his lips with my own.

  Yes, Every Kiss Is Different

  And this is a kiss

  like none before, a kiss

  that could overcome the dark

  of deep space night. It’s a falling

  star, flame, ice. It’s pure as water from a snow-fed mountain

  spring. This is what you dream a kiss to be. To have a kiss just

  like this each and every day! How satisfying life would be.

  Oh, Kaeleigh. Never let this man get away.

  Ian is the key to your salvation.

  Ian Moans

  And that ignites a flame just

  below my belly button. This

  is so wrong, but I don’t care.

  Ian is also on fire. But when

  I reach down to touch him

  the way every guy wants,

  he draws back. Wait.

  “Please, Ian? I want you.”

  He shakes his head.

  What’s wrong with you?

  Wrong? Everything’s right.

  I try to kiss him again.

  He pulls away, eyes betraying

  confusion. You’re not Kaeleigh.

  He knows, of course he does.

  I’ll make him want me. I fall to

  my knees in front of him. “Just let me…”

  No! I can’t. This isn’t right.

  He turns, stalks off, down the trail.

  All I can do is follow.

  Ian’s Sense

  Of right and wrong

  overwhelms me. Not

  a single other person

  I know

  possesses such an unshakable

  sense of morality. It’s more

  than unbelievable.

  It’s frightening.

  To offer without strings

  something all men crave,

  and be rejected by him is

  incomprehensible.

  Think I’ll have to kick

  Kaeleigh’s ass. Does she have

  any idea what it means

  to be

  so treasured? He has built

  a pedestal for her so tall

  that she is afraid to be

  lifted

  atop it, because to fall

  would mean certain death.

  But oh, she would rise far, far

  beyond fear

  and be held by arms so strong,

  and love so pure, that falling

  would not be an option.

  Kaeleigh

  Falling

  Is such an unpleasant sensation.

  I’m falling now, down through

  a dark blue opiate sea, and

  I know

  it’s all up to me. Sink or swim?

  I know how to swim, have practiced

  the dead man’s float for years, but

  it’s frightening

  how much I just want to drown

  in this undertow of booze and pills.

  I drank a lot tonight, ingested an

  incomprehensible

  amount of painkillers, some

  borrowed from Daddy, the rest

  pilfered from old Sam, who seems

  to be

  suffering a lot from his arthritis.

  His nightstand is a pharmacy.

  I doubt he even noticed I

  lifted

  a handful of Percodans. Lucky me,

  Daddy had to work this weekend.

  By the time he gets home, I’ll be

  beyond fear

  and well past saving.

  I’m falling now, down,

  down through indigo….

  Tick-Tock

  Through the thickening

  vespers

  the clock on my wall

  whispers.

  Tick-tick. Tock-tock.

  Intones

  the passage of time.

  Drones.

  Inhale. Everything

  slows.

  Exhale. The exchange

  shallows.

  Heartbeats mimic,

  tick-tick.

  Become erratic, stutter,

  t-t-tock.

  Through the indigo.

  Down.

  Gradual motion.

  I drown.

  A Voice

  Echoes inside my brain.

  A little girl’s voice.

  Get up. When you fall

  down, you gotta get up.

  It’s Raeanne, and I am with

  her on the playground.

  Get up, Kaeleigh, or I’m

  gonna be mad at you.

  I am lying beside the merry-

  go-round, head spinning.

  I hate when you be a baby.

  Oooh. Lookie. You’re bleeding.

  Scarlet oozes from a slice

  on one skinned knee.

  Stop crying! I hate when

  you cry. Mommy! Mom…

  Now her voice changes,

  hardens, sedimentary stone.

  Stop whining, Kaeleigh, or I’ll

  have to kick your ass.

  She sounds like me. Looks

  like me. Identical.

  Goddammit. I’m going for help.

  I’ll kick your ass later.

  Another Voice

  Trails the slam of a door. Door?

  Down here? How can a door slam

  in so much water? So much deep,

  dark ocean? Hello? Anyone home?

  Obnoxious. Intrusive. A lifeline.

  Footsteps. Twenty to his bed. Twelve

  to mine. I don’t want to count them.

  Can’t help it. One, two. Doesn’t matter.

  Three, four. Can’t get me here.

  Five, six. Quick! Hide! Seven, eight.

  To hide I have to swim. Nine, ten. No

  way to swim but up. Eleven, twelve.

  The feet stop moving, and even this far

  underwater, I hear a door snitch open.

  Kaeleigh? Kaeleigh! What have you done?

  Up through the indigo, I am lifted. Wake

  up, Kaeleigh. Come back to me right now!

  Sharp strikes against my cheeks.

  Sudden tears. My eyes want to float open.

  But I won’t let them. Won’t see him.

  I Fall Again

  This time, I land in a soft swirl

  of lavender, like the ocean at sunset

  just after downpour. Beautiful.

  Can I stay here? Forever? Lapping

  against the beach, playing with

  the sand. Frothing against the shore.

  Footsteps again. They slap tile.

  Running away from me.

  Good-bye feet. Good-bye.

  I am sinking. I can end it here.

  But if I’m going to drown, I have

  to go fast. Before the feet come back.


  I Let Out All My Breath

  Concentrate on sinking

  deeper and deeper and…

  oh, but what’s poised below?

  What monsters of the deep

  might decide to chew on me?

  Will it hurt, the final release?

  Is there pain when the spirit

  pries itself free of the flesh?

  Why worry about that now?

  I can feel the excavation, and

  it’s painless so far. My lungs

  fill with water. Silt. Mud. Now

  it hurts to breathe. So I won’t.

  I’ll settle deep into darkness.

  And I won’t say good-bye.

  Damn Footsteps

  Won’t let me sleep. And voices.

  One belongs to Daddy.

  Oh my God. Her face is blue.

  The other belongs to a woman. Mom?

  No, not Mom. Softer. Younger.

  Kaeleigh, wake up now.

  Melodic. Angelic. Angel?

  That means I’m…