by Robyn Bavati
Tom smiled. “Good to know.”
“I know I seem different at different times, but—”
“Everyone does,” Tom interrupted, “depending on their mood and who they’re with. Different hats for different occasions.”
“Yeah, but I want you to know that … ”
“What?” he asked.
Simone stopped walking, allowing the hand that had circled his waist to drop to her side. “That the person you see right now is the real me. Just remember that. Please.”
He picked up her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You know what? You think too much.”
They walked on in silence till they reached a café on the beach, overlooking the water. “Want a drink or an ice cream?” he asked.
Soon they were sitting on plastic chairs in the shade of a beach umbrella, sharing a milkshake. Simone sipped slowly, fighting the temptation to tell Tom everything. She’d never had a boyfriend before, and she wished there were no secrets between them.
I have a sister, she could say. If only it were that easy! But the truth wasn’t solely hers to reveal. She and Hannah were in this together. Besides, no matter how lightheaded he made her feel, it just didn’t seem right that Tom or anyone else should know the truth about her and Hannah before they told their parents, who’d loved them and raised them.
So she said nothing, focusing instead on enjoying the icy sweetness of the strawberry milkshake as it tickled her throat.
Tom was watching her intently.
“What?” she asked.
“I just like looking at you,” he said with a grin. “You have hidden depths. God, that sounds like such a cliché, but in your case it’s true.”
Hidden is right, Simone thought, cheeks flushing. “Everyone has hidden depths, including you,” she said.
“You think so?”
“I do.”
He rose to the challenge. “Okay, then. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Ask me a question.”
“Ever had a girlfriend?”
“Once,” said Tom, “for nearly a year. We broke up six months ago.”
“Why?” asked Simone.
Tom looked out at the sea for a long moment before turning back to her. “She lied to me,” he said at last. “Turns out she was also seeing some other guy. I knew I’d never be able to trust her again.”
Simone thought she saw a hint of pain.
“But I’m glad we’re not together any more.” Tom’s voice softened as he added, “Because now I have you.” He took her chin in his hand. “More questions?” he asked.
Despite the compliment she’d just received, Simone thought it was time to lighten the mood. “What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?”
Tom slurped the last dregs of his milkshake and gave her a grin. “Pick an easy one, why don’t you?”
“Don’t you think it’s an amazing coincidence that we’ve both got boyfriends at the same time?” Hannah was saying on the phone. “I just love the synchronicity of it, don’t you?”
“Actually, I read it’s common with identical twins.” Simone snuggled deeper under the quilt, preparing for a lengthy chat. “After all, our DNA’s identical; maybe we’re genetically and biologically programmed to develop an interest in guys at a certain age.”
“Don’t know,” said Hannah. “I mean, it’s not like we want the same things in other areas of our lives. We’re not one person.”
“No, we’re not,” said Simone, “but in a way we are one entity. We’re like two sides of the same coin—the same, but different … ”
After she said good night to Hannah, Simone closed her eyes and, as on the previous Sunday night, relived every minute of the afternoon she’d spent with Tom. She’d almost reached their parting kiss when the phone beeped and a message came through. She reached for it eagerly. Maybe he was texting a final good night.
I knw wat ur up to.
So much for Hannah’s theory that the first text had been a mistake!
Once again, there was no Sender ID.
“So who do you think it could be?” Simone asked when she’d finally stopped pacing and called Hannah back.
“You tell me. Is anyone acting suspicious around you?”
“Not that I’ve noticed,” said Simone. “Maybe it’s someone at the VSD.”
“It couldn’t be, Sim. No one there would have my number.”
Though the bedroom door was firmly closed, Simone lowered her voice as she climbed back into bed. “It might be a teacher. Mr. Aaronson seemed pretty annoyed when I dropped his class. Maybe he’s figured the whole thing out … ”
“No way,” said Hannah. “Teachers don’t have access to students’ private mobile numbers. And even if they did, no teacher would behave in such a juvenile way.”
Hannah was right. A teacher would come straight out and confront the culprit. Besides, it was unlikely a teacher would suspect the truth when Hannah and Simone’s own parents didn’t.
“It must be some jerk in our year,” Hannah continued.
“But we’ve been so careful,” said Simone, her voice full of anguish.
“Maybe it’s someone’s idea of a joke.”
“Not very funny though, is it? What about Dani?” Simone asked. “Would she be capable of something so spiteful?”
“She can be a bit possessive,” Hannah replied, “and she might be annoyed if she thinks you’ve dumped her for the sake of some guy. But Dani’s not scared of confrontation—if she was angry, you’d know.”
“Right,” said Simone. “Anyway, how could she know about the swap?”
“I don’t know, Sim, but someone must … ”
Simone’s stomach clenched with renewed fear.
Hannah finally said good night, but Simone lay awake, too fretful to sleep.
thirty-seven
Despite occasional flashes of anxiety over the two text messages Simone had received, Hannah floated through the following days hardly aware there was solid ground beneath her feet. She’d had crushes before, but never like this. This kind of thing only happened to other people. She hadn’t expected it to happen to her—at least, not now, not yet.
Was it her imagination, or was Matt becoming even better-
looking with each passing day?
During breaks and lunchtime, Hannah and Matt had become inseparable. Never one to abandon her friends, Hannah made sure that she and Matt often ate lunch with Jess and Mitch, after which those two would find an excuse to leave.
“I hope I haven’t been ignoring you,” she said to them one day.
“You haven’t,” said Jess.
“Maybe a bit,” Mitch countered, “but I understand. Someone had to snag Matt, and if it couldn’t be me, it might as well be you.” He punched her lightly on the arm. “I really mean that.”
“The only thing is … ” Jess began. “Remember what we heard Miss Sabto saying in the staff room that day?”
As if she could forget a single word of that conversation!
“She was worried some boy was distracting you.”
“Actually, that was Miss Hill,” Hannah corrected.
“Whatever,” said Jess. “Anyway, she might have a point, so you’d better make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“It won’t,” said Hannah. Far from being distracted by Matt, she knew she was working better than ever. All her teachers had praised her, and yesterday she’d managed twenty-four near-perfect fouettés. She and Matt rehearsed together almost daily after school, and when they finished rehearsing, he taught her popular ballroom styles—Samba and Foxtrot, Tango and Jive.
Hannah had gained so much confidence that she’d almost stopped worrying about whether she was a good enough dancer for the VSD. She knew she belonged. She’d even become accustomed to answering to the name “Simone.” And after all, what did it r
eally matter what her name was?
“Well, you’d better be careful,” Jess warned her again. “Don’t take your talent for granted.”
“I wouldn’t. I don’t.”
“You used to,” said Jess. “When you were the best in the year, you never appreciated it. It was only when you started to struggle that you decided you wanted to stay at the school.”
What was her point? Was Jess, as Simone had maintained, simply a concerned and caring friend? Or was there a trace of resentment in her tone? Had she been jealous of Simone’s flawless technique? Was it easier for Jess to be her friend when Simone was unhappy or no longer appeared to be top dog?
The VSD was a competitive school, where even close friends were rivals. And though Hannah had never imagined that anyone at the VSD could have heard of Hannah Segal from Carmel College—let alone know her phone number or that Simone and Hannah had swapped lives—she wondered now if she’d been wrong. Might Jess have sent those scary texts? Could she know that Hannah wasn’t Simone?
“But hey,” Jess was saying. “I’m glad you’re here, and I think you and Matt make an awesome couple.” Jess’s face was open and honest—and Hannah felt more certain than ever that whoever had sent those disturbing texts wasn’t a student at the VSD.
With Matt’s help, Hannah’s problems at the VSD had been all but solved, and she was determined to enjoy her dream school for as long as she could. She refused to be sidetracked by some spiteful person with a mobile phone.
Now that she’d perfected the steps, Hannah couldn’t wait for the Dance Spectacular the following week. The final dress rehearsal, which was held at the magnificent State Theatre in Melbourne’s Arts Centre, had gone so well.
Hannah and Matt left the Arts Centre in high spirits and strolled down to Southbank, through the Sunday market and along the river. They passed the food court and shopping complex, the restaurants with their balconies and patios overlooking the sparkling water, and the outdoor buskers—
singers, magicians, fire-eaters, and pantomime artists dressed as silver or gold statues, barely moving.
Suddenly famished from the morning’s rehearsal, they walked back to the crowded food court and made their way over to the baked potato bar and stood in the queue.
A familiar voice caught Hannah’s attention.
“ … can’t decide between the Mexican and the Mediterranean topping,” the voice was saying.
Instinctively, Hannah spun around. She found herself face to face with Dani, the best friend she hadn’t seen in months. A huge grin spread over her face, and she stopped herself from saying “It’s so great to see you” just in time.
Dani was with a couple of other girls from Carmel College. She grinned back at Hannah and her eyes grew wide as she looked pointedly from Hannah to Matt and back to Hannah. That look said it all:
Who is he? Is this the guy from Candance you were telling me about?
Where have you been hiding him?
Why haven’t I met him yet?
When were you planning to introduce me?
“Hi,” said Dani and her two companions.
“Uh … hi,” said Hannah. “This is … ” Had Simone ever mentioned Tom’s name to Dani? Just in case, Hannah thought better of introducing Matt by name. “This is … my boyfriend.”
“Hi,” said Matt, putting his arm around Hannah’s waist as if confirming his status.
Please, Hannah prayed inwardly, don’t mention school or homework or anything else that might give me away. She threw her friend an I-really-want-to-be-alone-with-my-boyfriend look, hoping Dani would get the message.
Dani did. “You know,” she said to the girls who were with her, “I don’t think I want a baked potato. Let’s get crepes instead.” She leaned in and whispered in Hannah’s ear, “I’ll expect a thorough debrief at school tomorrow.”
“You’re on,” said Hannah. “Bye, you guys.”
“See you later, Hannah,” Dani called as she and the two other girls disappeared into the crowd.
“That was weird,” said Matt.
“What was?”
“She called you ‘Hannah.’”
“Um … yeah, she always does. She thinks I look like Hannah Montana.”
Matt carried their tray of spuds piled high with toppings to a vacant table. Sliding into the seat beside him, Hannah thought about telling the truth: Actually, she called me Hannah because that’s my name.
Matt lifted a forkful of potato and coleslaw and gave her a smile. “You’ve got this strange look on your face. What’s on your mind?”
It would be so easy to tell him. Matt would be sure to keep it a secret if she did—at least, he’d try. But even with the best intentions, what if he accidentally called her “Hannah” in front of their friends—or worse, a teacher? No, it would be best to say nothing. That way he couldn’t inadvertently slip up and give her away. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair of her to confess to Matt when Simone had managed not to confide in Tom.
Hannah shrugged. “I’m too hungry to think.” She slipped a forkful of beans and potato into her mouth, and for the next few minutes they ate with zest while Hannah pretended that nothing was wrong.
Privately, though, she’d started to worry. What if Matt somehow discovered the truth before she told him herself? He’d no longer trust her, and he’d think she hadn’t trusted him.
thirty-eight
Wandering through the botanical gardens hand in hand, Simone and Tom climbed the path that meandered up the hill. When they reached the top, they paused for breath, taking in the magnificent view—the city in the distance and the lake below.
“Hungry?” asked Tom, and Simone nodded. They veered off the path and onto the lawn, choosing a spot where the grass was rich and deep. Simone sighed happily as she kicked off her thongs and sank onto the thick, green carpet beneath her feet.
“Impressive,” she said, as Tom uncovered the picnic lunch. He’d made the sandwiches himself—tuna and lettuce wedged between crusty rye. He’d also brought juice and a thermos of tea.
When they’d devoured every morsel between them, they lay back on the grass, looking up at the sky. Wispy white clouds floated through the sea of blue. “It’s another world up there,” Simone whispered softly. “That one looks a bit like a castle.”
“And that one,” said Tom, pointing to a puff of white edged with silvery gray, “looks a lot like a dancer. Which reminds me … ”
“What?”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you … why didn’t you tell me the VSD is performing at the Dance Spectacular?”
With that one question, Simone’s peace of mind was quickly destroyed. She fought down panic and nausea and tried not to sound worried as she answered. “I didn’t think it was important. How did you know?”
Tom looked across at her and grinned. “I looked up the VSD website. I’ve been waiting for a chance to see you perform.”
Simone sat up and tugged at a handful of grass, uprooting the blades. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
Tom sat up too, crossing his legs and propping his chin in his hands. “Why not?” he asked.
“Because I … ” She looked at him awkwardly, tension thickening the air between them.
“Are you ashamed of me?” he asked.
“Of course not.”
“Because sometimes it felt like that at Candance. I … I thought we’d moved on.”
“We have,” Simone whispered, watching a clod of earth come out in her hand.
Tom frowned. “Like I’ve said before, I love being alone with you. But I hate the idea of being a secret. I want the whole world to know we’re together.”
“I get that,” she said. “I’d just rather you didn’t come to the Dance Spectacular. I … ” I’m not going to be there. “I’d be too nervous with you there.”
“Would you? Why?”
Tom looked confused. “At Candance you seemed to love performing.”
“That was just summer school,” Simone replied. “It didn’t feel like a real performance. But the Dance Spectacular’s a really big deal.”
He picked up a strand of her hair and twirled it gently. “If you’d really rather not be up there on that stage, all the more reason for me to support you. Isn’t that what boyfriends do? Support their girlfriends?”
A troubled expression crossed Simone’s face. “Only if their girlfriends want them to,” she said at last.
There was an awkward silence.
Tom packed up the remains of the picnic and hoisted the basket onto his shoulder. “Come on, let’s walk some more.” He held out his hands to help her up and she took them, glad to feel his skin on hers.
“You know,” he said, as they continued walking, “one of these days you’re going to have to have that conversation with your mum.”
“I know,” said Simone, “but I hate confrontation.”
“You should tell her sooner rather than later.”
Simone shook her head. “It’s not that simple … look how hard you’ve been working just because your parents want you to get into law.”
“That’s different,” said Tom. “If I really believed law wasn’t for me, I’m sure they’d respect that. What you do with your life should be up to you.”
“Not sure that’s true. Remember how I told you I was adopted?”
Tom nodded.
“Well,” said Simone, “my mum could have left me in the orphanage. She didn’t. She chose to adopt me, and she … she’s sacrificed so much for me that I … I hate the idea of disappointing her.”
Tom lifted her hand and kissed her thumb. “Number one,” he said, “you won’t get through life without disappointing people. People will all want different things from you, and there’s no way you’ll be able to please them all. And number two,” he added, unfurling her index finger to kiss that too, “she chose to adopt you. She was probably dying to have a child.”