The Twin

by Natasha Preston

  My heart misses a full beat.

  She’s on the team.

  “What?” I heard that right, I’m sure. Iris said she’s on the team. My jaw drops.

  Haley stares at me. “You didn’t know?”

  Does this look like the face of someone who knows?!

  “You’re on the swim team?” I ask Iris, ignoring my friends.

  “I spoke to Coach. She watched me in the pool after Sophie and Haley gave me some pointers.”

  I bet they were pointers I gave them.

  I breathe long and slow through my nose. “You’re on the team?”

  She nods. “As of yesterday.”

  “You didn’t tell me then because…?”

  “I barely saw you. Besides, I thought it might be fun for us all to celebrate tonight with milkshakes.”

  Sophie drops her straw from her mouth. “This is a great thing, Ivy. Iris is a pretty good swimmer. It’s obviously in your genes.”

  “Ah, but I’m not even as fast as you two, let alone my shark of a sister.”

  I wouldn’t say I’m the shark.

  My brain is having all kinds of trouble processing this. Iris has never once mentioned that she wants to swim competitively. Haley and Sophie never mentioned helping her so she could try out. When was this decided? When did Sophie and Haley get involved? And why didn’t my two best friends tell me?

  They all kept this a secret until now. Iris wanted to watch my reaction and she wanted my friends here when I found out they helped.

  My skin prickles, and I want nothing more than to leave. I’m sitting here in the middle of one of Iris’s games, playing right into it in fact, and I can’t leave because I’ll be the unreasonable one. Besides, I think she wants me to leave, to make a scene so my friends will tell me once again that I’ve changed and they’re worried.

  Not happening.

  She can take my spot on the team from me, and I still won’t react.

  “Hey, Sophie, is it still okay to go to your house tonight?” Iris asks. “The boys are coming too, right?”

  Not reacting.

  But who are the boys? Sophie’s boyfriend and Todd, maybe?

  Sophie winces. “Yeah. Though I am a bit nervous to watch the Scream movies.”

  Iris laughs. “I think we must be the only ones who have never seen them!”

  Seriously? “I hardly think you two are the only ones who have never seen them.”

  I’m willing to put a lot of money on the fact that the Scream trilogy has been watched millions of times, but there are billions of people in the world.

  Iris rolls her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, Ivy. There’s no need to be jealous. She’s still your friend too.”

  I clench my jaw, my cheeks filling with heat. “I’m not jealous. You’ve never been interested in scary movies and neither has Sophie.”

  Why on earth would they want to get together and spend, like, six hours watching movies they don’t enjoy?

  “It’s something different,” Iris replies.

  Sophie nods. “It’s good to try new things.”

  Like having your hair down?

  Didn’t last long, though.

  “When Haley and I ask you to watch scary movies with us, you always turn us down.”

  Iris doesn’t give Sophie a second to speak for herself. “Maybe she wants to watch it with someone who won’t be cheering for the killer. You two enjoy it.”

  “So you want to watch them with someone who will equally hate them?” I ask Sophie, not expecting her to reply now she has someone to speak for her.

  “Why are you having such a difficult time with this?” Sophie asks.

  I hold my hands up in surrender. “I’m just having a difficult time with your choice of movies, that’s all.”

  Haley shrugs. “I think it’s good. Maybe you’ll actually end up liking them and we can all watch horror together in the future.”

  She can’t be serious. Haley has teased Sophie for years about her being scared of Scooby freakin’ Doo. How is she not finding this super odd?

  “Sure,” I say, fighting so hard to force a smile that my jaw aches.

  My phone dings with a message. I glance down and read.

  OK, I’ll meet you.

  Biting my lip to stop the grin, I turn the phone over so no one will see.

  When I look up, I see Iris staring at me over her milkshake. I match her gaze.

  Whatever you’re doing, I’m about to find out.

  38

  Iris and my best friend are watching a Scream marathon at Sophie’s house. I wasn’t invited, which is so unlike Sophie.

  Whatever.

  Kat has finally relented and agreed to meet me.

  I have to get out of the house at eight, which is not such a challenge, but I need to sneak back after talking to Kat, so there’s the challenge.

  When I’m trying to be quiet, I literally make the most amount of noise possible for a human, tripping over and knocking things down. So I don’t really know how that one is going to go, and I’m fully prepared to be grounded again when Dad catches me, but it will be worth it.

  If he does find me sneaking in or if Iris realizes I’m gone and tells him—which is more likely—I’ll make something up.

  Dad probably won’t believe me unless I tell him I met up with Ty, but I don’t want to drag Ty into this.

  I’m lucky that Dad is working late at the office and not home; he’s already told us to not wait up.

  I hate lying to Dad, but I don’t have a choice.

  Tucking my long hair behind my ears, I straighten Ty’s dark gray hoodie and slide my phone and keys into the pocket of my black skinny jeans. I’m in dark colors, and I’m not entirely sure why, but it seemed fitting.

  Looking in the mirror, I take a long breath to calm the nerves buzzing through my veins. I don’t know what I’m expecting, but I have too many questions to ignore. As an outcast of Iris’s group before Mom died, Kat might be the only person who can answer them.

  Showtime.

  I leave the house, lock the front door, and get in my car.

  Taking a jagged breath, I close my eyes. Things have escalated beyond measure. I’m sneaking away to meet one of Iris’s old friends. Because nothing I do is working. Kat might be able to help. If anything, she might be able to back me up.

  I pull off the driveway, pushing the edge of the speed limit.

  Ed Sheeran blasts from my stereo. The music does not fit my mood, which is why I like it. You can’t be angry when you’re listening to Ed, and I need to slightly tamp the anger burning in my stomach.

  The roads are relatively quiet, so I arrive a little earlier than I thought. Which does nothing but leave me with an extra fifteen minutes to obsess.

  Kat wouldn’t have agreed to meet me if she didn’t know something about Iris. She must have dirt on my sister. My thoughts range from Iris must be suffering from some sort of breakdown as a result of ignoring her grief all the way to she’s a psychopath in training.

  I pull the car into the parking lot at the park where I’m meeting Kat. Clouds darken the sky as the sun sets. The night air is chilly, and I shove my hands into the pocket of Ty’s hoodie. There are a couple of benches and a small playground. The place is deserted. I stick by a line of trees that surround the park to stay out of view.

  I check my phone. It’s 10:30. Come on, Kat.

  The cooler summer night’s breeze blows my hair in my face. I sweep it aside as a squeak fills the silent air behind me. I spin around.

  “Ivy?” Kat asks, holding on to the metal chain of a swing. She’s dressed head to toe in black like she’s on a secret mission. A bit like me.

  “Yeah, hi. Thanks for meeting me.”

  I walk toward her and she holds her hand up, bl
ue eyes rounding in…fear?

  Planting my feet, I frown. “What?”

  “You look so much like her,” she whispers.

  Well, yeah.

  “You’re identical?”

  “We are.”

  “She didn’t mention that. Some twins don’t look alike at all.”

  “Fraternal might not look similar. We were one egg.”

  But we’re not the same.

  “Well.” She straightens her back. “You can just stay over there while we talk.”

  Kat is afraid of Iris.

  “What did she do?” I ask.

  Clenching her jaw, Kat looks away and her long hair falls in her face.

  “You’re scared of her. Why?”

  “She’s not as innocent as she makes out, but, God, she is a master of manipulation. You know, half the school and everyone in town still believes her lies. Sweet Iris has now turned into poor, sweet Iris.”

  Kat is me. The only one who believes there is much more to Iris than she allows people to see.

  “I believe you. Please tell me what she did to you.”

  “Has she cried for your mom yet?”

  Her question catches me off guard. I hadn’t expected to talk about Mom.

  “Um.” I shake my head. “Not since the funeral. Where are you going with this? You think she’s not sad that our mom is gone?”

  Kat shrugs, her haunted eyes meeting mine. “One day I was running to class. I was the only one in the hallway. I was in a rush.” She pauses, staring off in the distance.

  Where is this going?

  “Tell me. Please,” I plead. “Kat?”

  She inhales long and slow. “She pushed me down the stairs.”

  “What?” I gasp. “Did my mom know?” There would be a police report. Iris is a minor, so our parents would have been informed.

  “Slow down. There was no evidence.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There was no one in the hallway. Everyone thinks I fell, but I was pushed. I felt it.”

  “Wait, so you didn’t see her?”

  Kat shakes her head. “No, but who else would it have been? I didn’t have a problem with anyone else. There was a sharp shove to my back and then I was falling. Teachers heard my scream on both floors. The ones who came from above said there was no one in the corridor, but I could smell her perfume lingering in the hallway.”

  “Could she have got away that fast?”

  “There are empty classrooms up there. She could have easily hidden in one until people came out of their classrooms and then joined them.”

  “Oh my God,” I whisper as my heart races.

  This is crazy. Iris is jealous and possessive, but would she really push someone down the stairs? Would she physically hurt someone to be the center of attention?

  Kat could have wound up dead. Like my mom.

  Oh…No.

  Blood drains from my face. I fling my hand out and grip hold of a monkey bar support pole. Black spots dance in front of my eyes.

  No. No. No.

  “Ivy?”

  I suck air into my mouth as my hand tightens around the metal bar.

  Mom slipped.

  My blurry vision sharpens, and Kat comes back into focus.

  “Mom,” I whisper.

  Kat’s eyes are wide like she’s seen a ghost. “I only agreed to meet you to warn you. I couldn’t keep this to myself…that Iris could have done something to your mom. Her death was ruled an accident…but are they sure?”

  They seemed positive of the outcome. But what if they’re wrong? Their investigation lasted all of three seconds when they saw the slip marks in the wet mud. Marks that matched Mom’s sneakers.

  But Iris has the same pair, just with a pink tick on the side instead of white.

  What if Iris pushed Mom and used her own trainers to make the marks in the ground?

  No, that is crazy. It’s too much. I take the deep breath my lungs are screaming for.

  “But why would she do such a thing?” I ask, trying to make sense of it all. “Was there something Iris was jealous of?”

  I can see from the frown on her face and panic in her eyes that she’s trying to talk herself out of what she knows. If she can convince herself that Iris wouldn’t do that, then it’s not real. Only it is real, and she can’t lie to herself.

  Kat shrugs. “We weren’t exactly talking much in the end, but I know your mom had started dating some guy. I heard Iris complaining about it to her friends, but I don’t think it was serious. We had been pretty close friends and Iris never mentioned anything about a guy. Do you think that could have pushed her over the edge?”

  I thought back to the way she reacted to Dad having a girlfriend. “I mean, maybe?” I’m breathing hard. “But maybe she didn’t mean to. I mean, maybe she just wanted to scare her?”

  Kat looks up to the sky. “I knew meeting you was a bad idea.” She lowers her head. “You need to be so careful with this. Believe me, you can’t get ahead of her. She sick but she’s also far more conniving than you could ever imagine.”

  “What am I supposed to do? I share a house and a dad with her. How can I forget what you’ve told me? What she might have done to my mom?”

  “You can’t prove it, and if you try, she’ll bury you. Iris has left town, but I still have no friends. Everyone in school still believes I’m the creepy one.”

  “All right. Okay,” I say. There is no point in arguing. Kat is free of her in the sense that Iris isn’t going to be around her again. But I don’t have that luxury. All that separates us is a bedroom wall.

  Kat backs away, and I know our conversation is over. “Be careful,” she whispers as she retreats. I watch her until she’s lost to the darkness of the night.

  I stand perfectly still, as if moving will somehow make this real. It’s already very real. Iris couldn’t have killed our mom, though.

  Could she?

  39

  Kat left about five minutes ago, but I’m still rooted to the spot beside the monkey bars. The swing sways eerily in the breeze.

  I need to go to Mom’s house. It’s not far from the park; I can make it back in time if I hurry. I think Iris’s old school is close by as well.

  Why didn’t Mom tell me she was dating? Not that she would have unless she thought it was going somewhere. But now I have to go through her things to find evidence of this guy and evidence of Iris hating them both.

  If that even exists.

  I clench my hands in the pocket of Ty’s hoodie and turn around. Slowly, I make my way back to my car in the lot beside the park.

  The city is still like a maze to me, but I recognize enough after the years to find Mom’s building easily. I park outside and go in. I know the door codes and I have a key, so getting in isn’t a problem.

  Taking the elevator to the third floor, I stop outside apartment 313. Every other time I’ve put the key in this lock, Mom has been on the other side of the door.

  Taking a breath, I raise my trembling hand and stick the key in the lock.

  The apartment is cold, like it knows the owner is no longer here.

  The furniture is all pale green and gray, with rose-gold accents and a few pieces of modern art on the walls. Closing the door softly behind me, I step farther into the room. The apartment has three bedrooms but it’s not particularly big.

  We need to pack everything up. Iris has been putting it off, and I’ve allowed her to because I didn’t want to push, but I need to push now. It’s not right that Mom’s things are just sitting here collecting dust.

  I walk into Mom’s room with guilt burning in my stomach. Looking through her stuff doesn’t feel good. It’s not like I’m organizing things to keep or donate. I’m searching for evidence of this boyfriend.

  So I need
to search Iris’s room, too, but I don’t feel any guilt for that.

  In fact, I’m excited to do it. I want to root around her room and see if there is anything I can use to get her to leave me alone. I want to dig up the dirt I’m positive she has hidden away somewhere. She thinks she’s the smartest person alive. I’m going to prove that she’s not.

  When a person gets overconfident in whatever they’re doing, they make mistakes. Iris might have her mistake tucked away in her room where she thinks no one will look. We inherited the apartment so it’s not like it has to be cleared.

  If I was going to hide something, it would be here.

  But before I get to the good bit, I want to get the bad bit out of the way.

  Mom’s king-size bed is made. Shimmering silver scatter cushions complement the dusty purple cover and pillows. Every morning, Mom made her bed before leaving her bedroom and going for a run.

  I spent many mornings sitting in bed with her and watching TV. She adjusted her routine when I was there, pushed everything back a little to spend time with me. Iris never joined us. She became too cool to hang out with parents long before I did.

  In fact, it was only a few months ago that I sat in this very room, tucked up with Mom, watching Judge Judy tear into people.

  I take a ragged breath and press my palm to the ache in my chest. I want her back.

  She’s everywhere in here still. The faint scent of spring flowers from her air fresheners lingers, but it’s not as strong as usual. I miss almost being squirted if I walked past it at the wrong time. The canister must be running out. I want to replace it but that seems pointless. There’s no one home to appreciate the scent.

  Get it together. You don’t have a lot of time.

  Pushing down the raw heartache, I turn and face Mom’s closet. That’s the obvious place to hide things. I can’t imagine her being super sneaky and having anything under floorboards.

  I grab both handles and open the double doors. Her light blinks on automatically.

  Mom’s clothes are organized by season and color. I used to tease her about that. My winter wardrobe just means I throw a hoodie and coat over my T-shirt.

  I run my fingers across the clothes, feeling soft cotton, wool, and satin as I go. She took good care of her appearance. I like a little makeup and have a good skincare routine that she taught me, but I wish I could be more like her. Every time I try, I get bored after a week, as it takes too long.