Madison narrows her eyes at him. “Leave my dad’s campaign out of this.”
“Should we leave your clone out of it too?” I blurt. “Maude isn’t here to defend herself, but I’m pretty sure she’d have a few opinions on whether or not she deserves the same rights as you.”
“Maude Gravelle came to Darkwood in spite of my family’s warnings,” Madison says, barely hiding her fury, “proving her judgment to be questionable.”
The class turns to me for a response. “What are you saying?” I ask. “That Maude’s intellect is lesser than yours, even though it was formed from the same DNA? Do you think Maude is somehow lesser than you, even though the two of you are technically as similar as if you were identical twins developed in the same womb?”
Madison processes what I’ve said. Then a smile creeps over her face. “Identical twins? Interesting point, Emma. I guess you’d say the same thing about him, wouldn’t you?” She nods at Levi. “Should we consider him Oliver’s twin, since he and Ollie are so similar? You know, Emma, that’s not a bad idea. Then he could be your new best friend.”
“That is completely different,” I say hotly, every cell in my body on fire. I can’t believe she’s twisting my words. Clones deserving equal rights as everyone else has nothing to do with how I feel about Levi.
“Excuse me. Do I have a say in this?” Levi shifts in his seat, uncrossing his legs. “Because I’m fairly certain I’m nothing like the venerable Oliver.”
I’m about to issue a retort when Pru jumps in. “Show some respect. Oliver died less than three months ago—”
“Believe me,” Levi says, “I know all about Oliver Ward’s death. I am well-versed in all things Oliver. I am his clone, after all. And speaking of respect, what about me? Your friend practically ripped off my face the second I got here.”
“Because you don’t deserve my respect,” I snap, finally looking him straight in the eye. “You’re right. You’re nothing like Oliver. You’re insensitive and obnoxious. Not to mention, a complete jerk—”
“See what I mean?” Levi responds.
“And you’re an embarrassment to his memory.”
“Mr. Gravelle! Ms. Chance! End of discussion!” Mr. Park exclaims.
But Levi doesn’t stop. “Do you think I want to have this face, Emma? Do you think I wake up every day pleased with myself for looking like this?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “Maybe you do.”
“Well, I would tell you if you ever thought to ask me. Instead, you make snap judgments, assume the worst about me, and punish me the minute you meet me.”
I’m beginning to return the onslaught when, apparently, the decibel of my voice pushes Mr. Park over the edge.
“That’s enough!” he barks. “Both of you. Headmaster Ransom’s office. Now.”
Duty
“Sit,” Principal Fleischer instructs us, ushering me and Levi inside Ransom’s office. She leaves without another word, and I’m relieved. The look on her face as she walked us in here was not a pleasant one.
Levi and I settle into twin upholstered chairs facing Ransom. I make sure not to look sideways, at Levi. Instead, I sit perfectly straight, my gaze on our headmaster, who’s perched behind his desk, his brow furrowed.
“I see,” Ransom says.
I’m about to ask, “See what?” when I notice he’s talking to someone on the phone, not us. He isn’t using the video feature, so from my vantage point, I can’t see or hear the person he’s talking to.
“Yes. I understand,” Ransom replies in a conciliatory tone. There’s a pause as he listens to the person on the other end. Then his brow drops into a frown. “As a matter of fact, she’s here now.”
Goose bumps prickle up my arms and down my spine. She? Does Ransom mean me?
“Certainly, Colin. I’ll relay the message,” says Ransom before pushing a button on his touch screen, abruptly ending the call. I straighten in my chair as though branded on the back with a hot iron. Colin. As in Colin Chance. The headmaster was talking to my father.
“Ms. Chance,” says Headmaster Ransom, surveying me. He turns his head to glance at Levi. “Mr. Gravelle.” Neither of us breathes a word in response. “As I’m sure you’re aware, Emmaline, that was your father on the phone.”
“I picked up on that, yeah,” I say begrudgingly. I hate that my father answered a call from the head of the school before responding to a buzz from his own daughter. But I don’t say that.
“He was not pleased to hear that you had already found yourself in my office. I assured him that whatever happened today in Mr. Park’s class was an anomaly. This is an uneasy time in our school’s history. Tensions are running high.” His gaze leaves mine and lands on Levi. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Gravelle?”
Levi shifts in his seat, shrugs.
“Just give me my detention, please,” I say flatly. “Or whatever the punishment may be. It can’t be worse than sitting here with him.”
Ransom leans back in his chair, the leather squeaking as he reclines. “You know, Emmaline, I would encourage you to consider the well-known phrase ‘Be careful what you wish for.’”
“And why is that?”
“At three o’clock this afternoon, the two of you will start your weeklong duty for today’s infraction.”
“The two of us?” Levi chokes out.
“At the commencement of class each day, you will hike down to the boathouse, where you’ll repaint it over the course of the next five days. Together.”
“Is that all?” Levi asks tightly.
“You are dismissed.”
* * *
I’ve been waiting for the call ever since I left Ransom’s office, and sure enough, my father finally buzzes me. When his face pops up on my plum screen looking appropriately concerned, I’m not in the mood to talk.
“I know you’re having a hard time, Emmaline, but detention? Already? A fight in front of your teacher?”
“It wasn’t a fight—”
“Maybe I should have Dr. Delmore reach out to you.”
“Why, so he can prescribe more pharmas?” I answer hotly. My father’s the CEO of a pharmaceutical company. Leave it to him to think prescription drugs are the answer to every problem. If I’ve learned anything these past few months since Oliver died, it’s that pills don’t take away your grief and pain on their own. They can mask it, briefly. But it’s all the worse when you emerge from the pharma haze and realize your best friend is still gone.
“I’m only trying to help,” my father says. I know he means well, but it feels patronizing. “Emma, if I could change this, all of it, I would…”
“No offense, Dad, but I’m pretty sure even you aren’t powerful enough to bring back the dead. But thanks. You know, for offering,” I add.
His voice softens. “Emmaline, honey. What can I do?”
I sigh. If my father’s emotionally unavailable, it’s not his fault—not entirely, anyway. He had to raise me alone all these years.
“Nothing, Dad,” I answer. “We’re survivors, right? It’s what we do. First Mom, now Oliver.”
“You’ve been through more than any sixteen-year-old should have to deal with,” he says. “And for that, Emmaline, I am truly so—” His voice cuts out.
“Dad?” There’s only silence on his end. “You still there?”
“Honey, it’s work. I have to take this. Can I call you later?”
“You know where to find me.” I don’t let on that his abruptness makes me feel even more alone than I already do. I’m used to it, though that doesn’t make it any easier.
I say goodbye and start down the dirt path that leads from the main house to the boathouse, where I’ll do my duty. I’m not familiar with the route, since I rarely visit this part of campus, but it’s scenic. As I descend the hill to the shoreline, I glimpse a stark cement-block bui
lding that looms over the other side of Dark Lake. Rumor has it, the building was once home to a scientific research facility that was closed down years ago. I trip over my own feet as I try to get a better look at it, but then trees encroach on the path, and the building shifts out of my view.
When I arrive at the boathouse, I get why Ransom asked us to paint it. It needs a major renovation. I’m doubtful Levi and I will be able to turn it into a thing of beauty, but as long as we get our duty over with, that’s all I care about.
Out from under the canopy of the trees, the sky is very blue. Sunlight reflects off the waters of Dark Lake, rendering it almost beautiful. I approach the dilapidated boathouse and am about to peer inside to see if I’m alone, when I hear a rustling of cracked leaves.
Levi has arrived.
As I turn to watch him approach, it’s like I’m suddenly on autopilot. Must not talk to him. Must avoid. I’m angry at him, and I’m heartbroken. But mostly, I’m afraid. I’m not afraid that he’ll hurt me, and I’m not suspicious of him for being a Similar, as so many people in our country and at Darkwood are. I’m afraid of the way my pulse quickens when I stare at his face.
I wrench open the boathouse door and step inside. The interior is lined with close to fifty racing shells, stacked upside down on racks that run from floor to ceiling. A few canoes sit right-side up on the floor, and next to them is a tall ladder. To my left lie paint cans, brushes, and other equipment, loosely covered by a drop cloth. I walk straight to the painting supplies and begin sifting through them.
“Dash?” I say. “You there?”
“Always,” Dash responds in a familiar voice that I can almost imagine is connected to a real human. “Where else would I be…Paris?”
I laugh, even though I feel like crying. “I think you made your first joke, Dash. Nice work,” I tell him.
“New operating system, new me,” Dash says. “Soon I’ll be mastering sarcasm.”
“Can you play The List?” I instruct him.
“Queuing The List,” says Dash. The playlist Ollie made me last year floods the buds embedded in my ears.
A few moments later, I feel Levi’s presence. I quickly mumble, “Volume, up,” then add, “Background noise, silenced,” hoping to drown out every last sound that’s not the music. I look at the paint cans. They all appear to contain the same drab, mossy-green color, so I grab two cans by their handles and lug them outside, taking a second trip to gather brushes, rollers, and tools. Levi follows my lead. I don’t look over my shoulder, but I sense him behind me, gathering paint cans and tracing my steps outside.
We work in silence, though it’s not silent for me. I have Ollie’s playlist to keep me company. I’m mixing some of the green paint with a wooden dowel when a hand touches my shoulder, and I startle.
“What?” I snap, ruder than I intended, as I turn to face Levi.
He speaks, but I can’t hear what he’s saying, since I’ve silenced all background noise. Once his lips stop moving, he stares at me, waiting for a response. I shrug and go back to my work.
Levi taps me on the shoulder again. It’s clear he’s not going to leave me alone.
“Pause music,” I say reluctantly. As the sound of the world returns, Levi speaks again.
“Primer,” he says. “You can’t start with green paint. You need a base.”
I stare at him for a second, standing there in front of me in the bright daylight. He’s wearing the same jeans he had on yesterday, plus a white short-sleeved T-shirt. I wonder if he’s cold. He doesn’t look it. His muscular arms look like they’d be warm to the touch. I don’t respond, I simply head back inside the boathouse to fetch the cans of primer.
“Emma,” he calls out. I turn and look at him again. “I’m sorry you had to find out about me like that.”
For one fleeting moment, I don’t hate him. That moment vanishes as quickly as it came.
“What should I have done?” he presses. “Skipped the assembly? Blindfolded you during my induction? Would that have even helped?”
“No.”
Levi’s eyes pierce mine. “Then what? This isn’t my choice, Emmaline. None of it is.”
“Can we please not talk?” I ask. “It was better when we didn’t talk.”
I grab the primer and carry it outside, where I pry open the paint can with the end of a screwdriver, pouring paint into a flimsy aluminum paint tray. I like this task. I like the way the paint spills into the metal pan in a puddle. I like using my hands and not thinking. I turn up the volume on my plum and try to lose myself in Ollie’s favorite tunes.
As we continue to work side by side, not talking for at least an hour, the sun dips into the horizon. It turns downright chilly, and I zip my hoodie to my chin. My plum eventually runs out of battery—stupid thing keeps glitching on me, probably because I keep forgetting to update the software—and there’s not enough sunlight to recharge with solar, so we work in true silence. I feel empty and spent without the music Ollie loved coursing through me.
I’ve only managed to prime one small area, but the distraction is more than welcome. I won’t mind doing it every day—trudging out to this abandoned spot and running this same brush over this same wall for the foreseeable future. The thought is comforting.
I’m enjoying the peace when we hear the scream.
Levi and I both freeze. Our gazes meet.
“Did you—?” I start.
“Where was it—?”
I point to a far corner of the boathouse. “It came from inside.”
I start toward the direction of the scream. Suddenly his hand covers my mouth and his other arm is around me, holding me close. His mouth is at my ear. I feel his breath. My own breathing hitches at his closeness, my pulse racing in my ears.
“Don’t talk,” Levi says. “It’s not safe. Please.”
I nod, and he lets go of me, though my heart doesn’t slow. Summoning all my confidence, I step toward the wide double doors, aware that Levi is following me. Inside the boathouse, the rows of racing shells look formidable in the dim afternoon light. It’s nearly dark in here now, but we can’t turn on a light.
Levi pads toward the far end of the boathouse, carefully stepping so as not to make the ancient floorboards creak. I follow quietly. We move to the other side of the rack of racing shells. This part of the boathouse is even darker, since little light makes its way between the stacked boats. I step over a few loose rags, noticing a rowing oar on the ground—but nothing else is amiss. Levi and I exchange a glance, and we both shrug. We heard it, didn’t we? That piercing scream? Someone else must be here.
Levi stands amid the canoes and runs his fingers through his hair, stumped. But I’m not ready to give up. I know what I heard, and it came from inside this boathouse—I’m sure of it. I start peering into the canoes. Cushions, a crumpled old lunch sack—I’m about to concede that we’re alone when I see it.
There’s a dark form inside the canoe in the corner. At first, I can’t tell what it is. I have to bend down and get my face up close to it to make sense of what I’m seeing. And then I scream.
It’s a body.
Prudence
We lean over the canoe, Levi and I. In my mind, I’m taken back.
Oliver in his bed, not waking up. Oliver, not breathing. Oliver, dead.
Looking at this body, at the person lying in this canoe, I’m overwhelmed by the same paralyzing fear I had then.
I take a deep breath and reach out to the body, my hand trembling, and sweep the hair from the person’s face.
It’s her.
I gasp.
Levi recognizes her at the same time I do. “Is that…?”
“Pru.” I’m sure it’s Pru and not her Similar. These are the athletic clothes Pru was wearing a couple of hours ago. I’d recognize them anywhere. “It’s not Pippa. Pru’s on the crew team,” I say, my voice frantic. �
�That must be why she was here.”
“I can’t find a pulse,” Levi says, all business, but I can only think one thing: Not Pru. Not Prudence too. No, no, no.
“Maybe you’re not doing it right,” I snap as I watch Levi search Pru’s wrist for signs of life. A part of me wishes this was Pippa lying here, and that Levi was feeling this pain instead of me. I know it’s wrong, but still—I hate him for it.
“Got it,” Levi mumbles. “There’s a pulse. She’s alive. For now.”
“Dash,” I bark. “Call the school nurse.” When Dash doesn’t respond, I remember. My plum’s dead. I wasted my last bar of battery listening to The List, and now when I need it—when Pru needs me—I can’t help her.
“Your plum,” I say to Levi, pushing the panic out of my voice. “Can you signal the infirmary?”
Levi nods, pulling his plum from his pocket and scrolling over the screen. He fumbles like he doesn’t know how to work it.
“Hey,” I say, my voice cracking. “Quickly! Do it already!”
“I just got this thing,” Levi explains as he searches for the emergency icon. After what feels like forever, but is only a few seconds, he finds it and presses. “First phone.” He shrugs.
“Your first…” I struggle to absorb that thought. “You mean your first Plum 5000?”
“No, first phone. We didn’t have them growing up.”
“Hurry,” I say. “She can’t… I won’t let her…”
Tears balloon in my eyes. I lean over and lace my fingers through Pru’s. Her skin feels ice cold.
“What happened to you, Pru?” I ask, even though I know she won’t answer. Was it an accident? Did Prudence trip? Was she climbing to get some gear and fell, landing in this canoe?
“It’s not going through. Bad signal out here,” Levi interrupts my train of thought. “We need to move her.”
“No,” I say. “You’re never supposed to move an injured person.”
“I could run to the school,” Levi offers. “Find someone to help us. But that might take too long. Plus,” he adds, “I don’t want to leave you here alone.”
The Similars Page 8