The Pretenders

by Rebecca Hanover

  I know what Harlowe’s doing, and I’m so furious at her I could scream. I don’t turn to look at my friends’ faces, but I’m sure if I did, I’d see the hurt written there. Harlowe’s rubbing their DNA families in their faces—Pru’s happy family life, including the mother Pippa lost months after meeting her. She wants Maude to hurt for never being a part of one of the most influential families in the country. And, worst of all, she wants to remind Theodora of the role she played in sending Damian Leroy to prison.

  It’s emotional hazing, and it’s cruel.

  I’m about to waltz over to Harlowe and demand that she turn the damn slideshow off, when a final image is projected in front of us, eight feet tall and impossible not to stare at.

  It’s me and Levi. I know it’s him instantly. I know that too-long, scraggly hair, and his lean biceps, and the white T-shirt he insisted on wearing even in freezing temperatures. That’s not Ollie. It’s his clone, and this is last year. And we’re kissing.

  I feel my chest tightening, my whole body tensing. Where did Harlowe get this? Where did she get any of these photos? How long has she been planning this? This is the handiwork of someone who researched and gathered information all summer long. This wasn’t thrown together. It was planned.

  I don’t turn back to look at Ollie. I can’t. I feel mortified and ashamed. For him to find out about Levi like this…

  Or could he have already known? Does he already know? I’ve wondered all summer if he could tell, somehow, that something was different between us. Now I don’t have to wonder anymore. He’s seen the evidence that Levi and I were an us.

  The lights come back on. When they do, it’s a harsh reintroduction to the room. To the creaky machinery, and to Ollie, still handcuffed to that chair. I force myself to look at my friends—especially Ollie. I can’t read the expression on his face. Is it surprise? Disappointment? Betrayal? I only catch a glimpse of my other friends’ faces—stoic, but clearly emotional in spite of their inherent strength—before I charge at Harlowe, wanting to wipe the smug look off her face.

  “We’re done being manipulated by you,” I say. “So tell us what the hell you want.”

  Harlowe backs up, just out of my reach. “I want what I’ve always wanted. For this group to be run by people who actually deserve it. Me, and my friends. Legacies of this school, like the families in those photographs. Not some copies,” she spits. “So go ahead. Give me what’s rightfully mine.”

  “And what is that?” Maude counters.

  “Hand over leadership of the Nine and walk away.”

  “Never,” Maude answers calmly. “And for the record, those images can’t hurt us. Do you think we don’t already know how we’ve been shunned by our DNA families? Do you think we ever go a day without a reminder that they’ll never love us, not the same way they love them?” She means the originals. Tessa, Madison, and Pru.

  Pru. I nearly forgot about my emergency buzz to her, Jago, and Ansel. I glance down at my plum and see all the notifications from her that I’ve missed. There’s no time to update her now. I’ll have to fill her in later.

  “Just admit that you don’t belong here,” Harlowe murmurs. “Admit that you have no business being leader of the Nine—”

  I make a move to lunge at Harlowe… Before I reach her, I hear the Similars counting down from three. I turn to see my friends clench their fingers into fists, flex their arms, and strain against the handcuffs, ripping the chain of each cuff with a pop, so that each one separates from the chair it’s attached to, leaving a set of cuffs dangling from each of their arms. But they’re no longer bound. Their shackles hang like useless appendages from their wrists. They’re free.

  I stop in my tracks, stunned. They’ve broken out of their handcuffs through sheer brute strength.

  Even though I know about the Similars’ capabilities, even though I’ve seen them climb those trees, balancing precariously without a fear of falling, and hold their breath underwater, and I’ve witnessed Levi’s cut healing at warp speed… I’m still shocked. I’m not the only one. I hear Ivy take in a gasp of air. The look on her face is one of surprise and terror. Harlowe appears to be similarly rattled. And Graham is shaken, though he’s obviously trying not to show it, crossing his arms over his chest and assuming a casual stance.

  Maude stands up, a swing in her step as she rubs her wrists together. Theodora and Pippa do the same. Then Pippa leans over and, in one swift motion, breaks Ollie’s cuffs for him. He thanks her, standing up—wobbly, but seemingly okay.

  “What… How…” Ivy sputters.

  “Oh, that?” Maude answers. “It’s something we can do. You know, after all that practice back on our island.”

  “But that’s not possible,” Harlowe whispers. “Those chains were metal.”

  Now I notice Sophie and Willa, the other two junior members of the Nine, standing in the doorway. They saw it too.

  “You might as well give us the keys to the cuffs.” Maude looks Harlowe directly in the eye, holding her gaze steady. “It’s not like you can use these again, anyway.” Harlowe mumbles something unintelligible, reaches in her pocket, and thrusts a key chain at Maude, who swiftly undoes her own cuffs, then the others’.

  Harlowe has lowered the knife and holds it defensively at her side, obviously thinking better of threatening us with it. Her hand shakes, though I’m sure she hopes I don’t notice.

  I realize it then. With that display of their strength, Maude, Theodora, and Pippa revealed how strong they really are. How strong all the Similars are. No one knew about their abilities—not the student body, anyway. And now they will. If they want to, Ivy, Harlowe, and Graham can easily take this new information and use it against the Similars. My stomach roils thinking of all the ways how. Making them seem inhuman. Stirring up panic and fear…

  “You okay, Em?” asks a voice next to me. It’s Ollie, rubbing his wrists, looking for the most part like himself. Thank God.

  “I’m the one who should be asking you that question, you big dope,” I answer, feeling tears pooling in my eyes. I can’t believe they drugged him too, and brought him into this. Because of me. Ollie’s not even in the Nine, and he still got hazed… I try not to let myself think about the eight-foot picture he just saw, of me and Levi. If I do, I’ll lose it.

  “Since we’re all here…” Maude’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “We might as well hold the first midnight session of the school year.”

  “That’s my cue,” Ollie whispers, giving me a quick hug.

  “You’re going?” I feel my heart racing. I don’t want him to leave.

  “I don’t think I should stay. Not in the group.”

  “But you’re okay?”

  “Yeah, I mean this whole night was pretty messed up, wasn’t it?”

  “Understatement of the year, but yes,” I whisper back to him. “You’re sure you’re all right? Nothing feels weird, or off, or—”

  “Besides being thoroughly freaked, I’m fine,” he assures me. “You?”

  I nod. “I might take that knife and skewer someone with it. And by someone, I mean Harlowe. But yeah, I’m okay.” Ollie starts to leave, but I stop him. “Wait. Pru,” I say quickly, remembering. “She’s probably waiting up for us. Worried. Can you…”

  “I’ll fill her in,” Ollie promises before slipping out the door. I can’t help but wonder if his quick exit is a cover for how hurt he must feel right now, after seeing that photo of me and Levi tangled together like that. So clearly giving in to our feelings for each other. Feelings Ollie didn’t even know about until five minutes ago. Which, it occurs to me, was Harlowe’s whole agenda. She wanted to target each of us with emotional land mines. That was mine.

  Maude waits for Ollie to leave, then addresses the group again. “I’ll make this brief.” She casts her eyes over all of us, finally settling on me. “Welcome to the Nine. This group has historically bee
n Darkwood’s apparatus for lighting a fire under students, for motivating them to be their best selves. It’s our job to act as role models for the rest of the student body. This year, we’ll have a singular focus. Not only inspiring the students here to challenge themselves academically—motivation that I don’t think they actually need, since no one makes it here unless they’re exceptionally smart and talented. This year our focus will be on tolerance. On choosing to be kind. Tonight’s display was the exact opposite of that goal. I thought I’d made myself clear, but I guess not. There will be no more reverse hazing of any kind. No more humiliation or emotional torture. No more initiation rituals,” she says, boring her eyes into Harlowe’s. “Or—well, you saw what we’re capable of. And that’s only the start.”

  Harlowe shrinks into herself. Ivy casts her eyes downward at her shoes. And Graham, who’s trying not to look fazed by any of this, is obviously doing his best to act tough—but I wonder what he’s really thinking. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard any of the Similars threaten anyone. I don’t blame Maude; rather, I’m angry that she felt she had to. Still, I wish tonight had never happened. The thought of the whole school knowing what they’re capable of… What you might be capable of too…

  The meeting is brief. Maude dismisses us, but not before reminding us of the burden we carry as members of the Nine—to embrace other students, not sabotage them. With a sinking feeling in my heart, I wonder if that’s a realistic goal. Especially now that Maude’s given these juniors ammunition against the Similars.

  “Let’s go,” Maude tells me, Pippa, and Theodora, linking her arm through mine. Then she stops short and turns back to Harlowe. “If I were you, I’d hide that car before Ransom gets wind of it.” I don’t wait to see the look on Harlowe’s face before we slip out the double doors, leaving the pump house behind us.

  On the walk back to Cypress, I tell my friends about my night, glossing over my jump from the car so that it sounds like a minor incident. We all agree that Harlowe, Ivy, and Graham must have had help injecting them and transporting them to the pump house. But who? I can’t help but wonder if somehow Madison had a hand in this… Though Maude reminds me that her original is no longer on campus. She left this evening for the campaign trail.

  I don’t bring up what’s really worrying me. Their safety. When they broke out of those chains tonight, they showed those juniors their preternatural strength. I feel momentary relief, though, when I think about it. Certainly I would never be capable of something like that, would I? I’m not that strong. Which means maybe Gravelle has been lying to me all this time. Maybe I’m not a Similar at all.

  But when I climb into the shower at one-thirty in the morning, peeling off my jeans and T-shirt and letting the warm, soapy water rush over me, I realize that I’m not in any pain. My wrists feel completely fine. And every single one of my cuts and scrapes are a faint pink, already beginning to fade.

  Masquerade

  The next morning, I drag my leaden body out of bed. I get dressed, noticing as I slide on fresh jeans that I feel exhausted from lack of sleep, but otherwise fine, physically. That deeply unsettles me. After soaping myself off last night and examining every inch of my body, I have only a few faint scratches to show for my tangle with the road.

  I don’t want to believe it, but now I have evidence staring me in the face. My cuts healing remarkably fast. All my aches and pains gone. How is this even possible? As a middle schooler, I got plenty of cuts and scrapes, even some burns. They didn’t heal like this. Still, I never had any serious accidents. Is that because of who I am and my genetic makeup? Or was I not enough of a daredevil to ever test it? Or maybe the properties grow stronger the older you get. I’ll have to ask the Similars to tell me everything they know, but without letting on why.

  Then there’s the other thing I can barely admit to myself—that something very unusual and disturbing happened last night when I heard Harlowe’s thoughts. I’d be tempted to write it off as just one of those weird things, except that those thoughts led me right to the pump house and my friends. Which means I couldn’t have imagined the whole thing, or hallucinated it. As much as I want to deny it, it happened. I heard Harlowe’s thoughts like she was talking directly to me.

  With no time to sit and eat breakfast and no stomach for it anyway, I grab a bagel and rush to my first class. I can barely concentrate in calculus, and English and world history fly by as I think about the message Gravelle sent me. I still haven’t found the right moment to tell my friends about it.

  Ollie snags me on my way to lunch and falls in step with me on the path to the dining hall. I instantly tense, thinking of last night. Are we going to talk about that photo of me and Levi, or are we going to pretend the whole incident didn’t happen?

  But Ollie’s on another topic altogether. “When were you going to tell me you leaped from a moving vehicle? Or is that a new hobby you picked up last year while I was gone?”

  I pause midstep and look into his gray eyes—relieved to see he’s not angry. He looks like he always does. Warm. Generous. Open. Not mad, thank God. “Let me guess. Maude told you about that?”

  We start walking again, more slowly now. I keep pace with Ollie.

  “I knew something was up, Emma. Come on. That car? The huge rip in your jeans? Think you might want to reconsider the next time you contemplate breaking every bone in your body?” I sense worry behind Ollie’s eyes. Worry for me. “Pippa said you drove that Volvo. Was she messing with me, Emma?”

  “Nope,” I answer. “I had to. Harlowe had the Similars locked up, and I had to find them. And you! You would’ve done the same thing. And if I was okay enough to drive… That’s proof that the car wasn’t going very fast when I jumped. Really, it wasn’t a big deal.” I’m angry at myself for how easily I can lie to him. That car was going fifty miles an hour. At least.

  “I don’t believe you, but okay.” He laughs. Then he stops, staring off at the horizon. I do the same, wondering if he’s going to bring up the slideshow now. My stomach starts to churn with anxiety. That photo is proof that Levi and I weren’t just friends.

  “He’s staying on Castor Island,” I blurt. It’s too late to take it back, though I instantly regret it. I don’t want to talk about this with Ollie. I can’t.

  “Levi?” he asks, brow furrowed.

  “Yes,” I breathe. “Levi. Ollie, that photo—”

  “We don’t have to talk about it.”

  “No. I mean, yes, we do. Levi and I. Last year…”

  “Was the worst year of your life,” he finishes my sentence for me. He isn’t smiling, not now. He looks pensive. Pained.

  “Of course it was,” I whisper, his words throwing me back to the misery of junior year, without him. “I almost didn’t survive it. You know that.”

  I stop walking and grab Ollie’s hand. He automatically laces his fingers through my own. It’s what we do, who we are. We’ve done it a million times. His face is so close to mine, I can see, and hear, him breathing. “If Levi helped,” Ollie says softly, “if he made you less sad…”

  I nod, unable to answer. “Less sad” barely even covers it. What Levi and I were… What we might never be again… I feel sick with the unfairness of it. Losing my best friend to gain Levi. Then losing Levi to gain back that best friend.

  “I’m sorry, Emma. I’ve been meaning to say that to you for months, I just never…” He takes in a breath. “It’s all my fault. All your suffering. I wish I could go back in time and prevent it. You don’t even know—”

  “What’s your fault?” I interrupt. I don’t understand. Nothing that happened to us in the last year was his fault.

  Ollie drops my hand, shoving his own into his jeans pockets. He looks out at Dark Lake, squinting, his forehead creased with concern, and probably something more than that. “I was the one who broke into the science building in our second year,” Ollie goes on. “I was the one who insiste
d on digging, and asking questions, and visiting Albert Seymour. I was the one who traveled to Castor Island. If I’d never done that—” He breaks off, his voice catching.

  “It is not your fault,” I say, my own voice sounding hard and tasting metallic on my tongue. “The only person to blame for all of this is Gravelle.”

  “My biological father.”

  “Your biological father,” I repeat, because I know this fact means something to Oliver, and I shouldn’t dismiss it, even though he couldn’t be anything less like the man who gave him half of his DNA. “The father who used all of us as pawns.”

  “It was a trap, and I walked right into it.” Ollie shrugs.

  “We all did! Me, you, your parents, Maude and Theodora and Pippa, Ansel and Jago. He messed with all of our heads. Manipulated us long before you ever set foot on that island,” I point out. “Ollie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I need you to know something,” I say, my voice trembling. I need to get this out. I have to get this out. “Whatever Levi and I were last year, it doesn’t, it couldn’t ever take away our friendship. It could never change you and me. I know that’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever uttered, but I need you to know that. Okay?”

  “Okay.” He shrugs and smiles, in that Ollie way of his, and I feel instant relief. The world didn’t end because Ollie saw that kiss. We’re okay. I think.

  “Lunch?” I ask, threading my fingers through his again. Feeling his hand in mine, my breathing starts to slow. I relax, if only for a moment. Ollie is back, I remind myself. Nothing can be that bad if Ollie is back.

  On our way to the dining hall, as we walk in a comfortable silence, we pass a bunch of kiosks in front of the main house, all part of the Fall Fair advertising tryouts for plays and clubs. Oliver stops in front of a booth. A printed sign reads MASQUERADE BALL in loopy letters. Two students behind the booth are selling tickets. They wear old-school masks and long capes, like they just came from a Renaissance fair.