Point Horror: Identity Theft Part 19

In the lobby, a burly man with sungla.s.ses stood with his arms crossed over his chest.

"This is Jamie." Dr. Taylor shoved me forward. "I'm faxing her discharge paperwork per her family's request. Jamie, this is the driver who's been arranged by your family to bring you home. Good-bye," he said formally.

I locked eyes with him. As soon as I cleared up everything at home, I'd see what I could do about suing Serenity. But one step at a time. "Thank you."

I climbed into the backseat of the car, far too excited to fall asleep and annoyed at how heavy my eyelids were. I couldn't be foggy. Not now. But as the time it took to open my eyelids after blinking grew longer and longer, I knew I didn't have a choice. I had to rest.

But before I fell into unconsciousness, one word was on my mind: perfect.

Miss?"

"Yes?" My eyes flew open, taking in the white fences lit by the moonlight, the rolling green pastures, and the gravel driveway leading to the sagging porch.

"You're home," he said. As if I didn't know that.

"Thank you!" The out-of-it feeling was gone, replaced with exhilaration. I was home. I practically sprinted up the driveway, feeling the air in my lungs.

As always, the back door was unlocked. I flung it open. Sadie rushed toward me, jumping and licking and wiggling her tail uncontrollably. She'd missed me.

The luminous green numbers on the stove clock read 12:01. The fridge door was the same as always, no phantom pictures. The house smelled like firewood and burning leaves, all the outdoor scents that had wafted through the open windows.

I wasn't sure where to begin. I needed to call Adam. I needed to talk to Mom. I needed to talk to Jamie's family.

But first, I needed to eat.

I opened the fridge, pulled out the jar of peanut b.u.t.ter, and scooped a thick spoonful. Not bothering with bread, I took a bite.

"I see you're making yourself right at home."

I spun around. The spoon clattered to the floor and Sadie ran toward it, unaware that she was in the middle of me and my twin.

"Jamie." I blinked.

"Did I scare you?" She laughed, then sat at the kitchen table. She was wearing one of my mother's yoga tops and a pair of yoga shorts that showed off her toned legs. Dark eyeliner made her eyes seem even bluer. Her hair was loose around her shoulders. As if aware that I was watching, she lifted it up, then dropped it - but not before I got a glance at the hickey on her neck.

"Sit down," she said. It was more of a command than a suggestion. "We have so much to catch up on. Seventeen years is a lot for sisters. I tried reading your journals, but I got a little distracted. Matt is amazing. Why write about it if you can have the real thing?"

I remained standing. I wanted so badly to hate her. She'd almost ruined my life. But I couldn't help but think of the sad-eyed girl from the file, the one who never felt like she belonged in her family. Wasn't that how I'd always felt at school?

"Why did you do this?" I asked. "Why?"

"Does everything need a reason?" she asked cryptically.

"I mean, I know your dad is ..."

"My dad is what?" In one fluid movement, Jamie burst from the chair and grabbed a butcher knife from the block on the counter. She held it toward me, arching her eyebrow as if to dare me to say something else.

I took an instinctive step back, landing on Sadie's paw. She growled and glanced between us, then bared her teeth and began barking at Jamie.

"Shut up!" Jamie snapped, using her knee to knock Sadie's nose back. Sadie whimpered, tail between her legs, and headed toward my feet. She licked my ankle, and I knew she wanted me to pet her. I didn't. I was frozen, afraid one small move would cause Jamie to violently react.

"Don't look so scared, Hayley," Jamie said, as if she'd read my mind. "I'm not going to kill you yet. It'd be a shame if we lost each other so quickly after reconnecting. Besides, I still need you. Don't worry, you're not Leah Kirkpatrick." She put the knife on the table.

"Did you kill her?" I didn't take my eyes off the knife.

"Did I kill her?" Jamie repeated, as if she were asking herself the same question. "Well, I think that'd be a good debate question. Some people would say I did. Others would say I simply was the catalyst. And then others would say I was just one piece of the plane crash theory puzzle." She smiled as if we shared a secret. "But it turned out well for you. She was going to get your Ainsworth spot."

"And you ..."

"Fixed things so you would. You can thank me later," she said. Noticing my gaze, she grabbed the knife and placed it back in the block with exaggerated patience. "Seriously, I said I wouldn't kill you. I was joking!"

"I don't get it," I said. "You had everything growing up. You went to the best schools. You had this awesome house and a family and you wanted to give it up?" If Jamie thought her experience had been bad, what would she have done if our situations had been reversed? I imagined Aidan and me playing elaborate games of pretend in their family's lavish, antique-filled home. I imagined family trips to Europe and private lessons and anything in the world I wanted, without ever having to worry about cost. But what would Jamie have been like if she'd been raised by my mom?

"You don't have to get it," Jamie said, a hard edge to her voice. "I wouldn't expect you to understand." She sat back down at the table, lost in thought.

I had a million questions: What had really happened to Leah? How had Jamie found out about me in the first place? Why did she want my life? "What was so bad about your life?" I asked quietly. I cautiously sat next to her. Our hands were side by side on the table, the long pointer fingers and prominent knuckles looking like they were a pair. I edged mine closer to hers, surprised when she didn't pull away.

Jamie shrugged. "I didn't like being Jamie. Not the Jamie my dad and his little trophy wife wanted me to be. I felt like there had to be something more out there, something I was missing. And there was."

"Me?" I asked.

"I had to go to one of my brother's stupid debate tournaments last year, and I saw you. You weren't debating him ... you're better than him, so that made me happy. But it was easy to find your name. At first I just wanted to play around. I mean, I was just kicked out of school and I had a lot of free time, you know? But then, the more I was hanging out here, the easier it was. And I figured, why not try living it?"

I imagined the life we'd have had if we'd grown up together. I imagined us as toddlers in matching bathing suits, staying up late and inventing a secret language, doing whatever twins are supposed to do. No matter what, we'd both been denied that.

"Did you meet my mom?" I asked quietly.

"I did." She shrugged. "She was all right. But I'm not looking for another family. It only makes things more complicated. All I need, sister, is you."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"Well, I'm not going back to Brookline. And, honestly, I don't really feel like staying here any longer than I have to. But I had a good conversation with Mr. Klish today and it seems, in his words, that the Ainsworth is just the ticket for an ambitious young person to reach her dreams. So that's what I need. And I need you to win."

"Okay ..." I trailed off to allow her to speak.

"So, here's the thing: It's a pretty sweet scholars.h.i.+p. And I don't care about college. But I do need money. So I figure, you win the award, you provide me with an allowance, and I go away. It's easy."

"Where would you go?"

"Costa Rica? Paris? San Francisco? I don't care! Don't you realize, I just don't want to be here?"

Her jaw was set, and her nose wrinkled the same way mine did when I was trying not to cry.

"You want me to help you disappear," I said.

Instead of saying something snarky, she nodded.

"I need you to help me. Please. And then, once I'm gone, I'll be well. I'll be able to heal once I get away from them. They weren't good parents. There's a reason your mom never talks about James. Please trust me."

I knew that tone. It was pure desperation, the one I'd used with Adam. The one he'd ignored. I couldn't do that to my sister. I noticed a lone eyelash on her cheek, glistening in the shaft of moonlight from the window. I reached toward her and lifted it off with the pad of my finger, holding it toward her. She shrugged, confused.

"It's an eyelash. You make a wish and blow on it." Had she never done this? Keely and I had always done it, the gesture as familiar as brus.h.i.+ng a piece of lint off her sweater. But touching Jamie's skin was different. It was like watching myself in the mirror. I couldn't look away.

And I already knew I couldn't turn away.

"You know what my wish is," she said. She puffed out her cheeks and blew.

I thought of the money, halved. It'd still be a lot. I could still make it work. I could get a s.h.i.+ft as a barista near campus. I'd make Ingrid share her secrets for how to travel through Europe on less than ten euros a day. Yes, she was sick. But she was my sister. How could I turn on someone so much like myself? My eyes locked with hers. "Okay," I heard myself say.

I felt myself enveloped in my sister's hug, surrounded by a sweet, smoky scent. We hadn't been this close in seventeen years. Maybe this would be worth it.

"Well, you'd better rest up, then!" she said brightly. "And you have to change out of that outfit!" I looked down at my Serenity-issued uniform.

Her eyes widened. "I really hope you can forgive me about this. It all got so out of control. I just ... just got caught up in the idea that I could actually do this. It was the perfect plan."

"I'm happy to do it," I said numbly, allowing my sister to walk me upstairs and tuck me into bed as if I were a child.

I woke up to the smell of coffee.

"I was about to wake you up. How'd you sleep?" a voice cooed. I turned. Jamie was sitting on a chair across from my bed, her knees pulled to her chest. Coffee and toast were sitting on my bedside table, and a heather-gray suit - the one I saved for special occasions - was lying on the window seat.

"I got everything ready for you! All you have to do is take a shower," Jamie said eagerly. Her voice had an edge I hadn't remembered last night. I'd fallen asleep with a sense of relief. But this morning, it was replaced by an uneasy feeling of dread.

"Are you okay? Come on! You don't want to be late!"

"Right. Sorry. I just feel weird. The pills from Serenity -"

"They should be out of your system by now," she barked. "Seriously, just take a shower. And then I'll leave you alone. I promise. I'm as nervous as you are. We are in this together, after all."

"Right." I remembered the flood of warm feelings I'd felt toward Jamie last night. I didn't feel that now. I couldn't stop thinking of the knife blade. The way she laughed when I asked about Leah. The almost-too-easy explanation she had for where Mom was.

"Where's Mom?"

"I told you. She's, like, antiquing with Geofferson. She'll be home tomorrow, and all of this will seem like a bad dream. You've just got to get everything done today. And I know you can do it. You're Hayley Westin."

My heart fluttered in my chest. "And what if I don't?"

"Well, I think that wouldn't turn out very well for either of us, now would it?" She grabbed my wrists. I could feel her fingers pressing into my skin. "We're so alike. Both our parents lied to us. We've always been outsiders. We've never belonged. Now, we have a chance to get what's ours."

"But I was the one who was on track for the Ainsworth. That was all me."

Jamie snorted. "You think? Sorry. You're good, but you're not that good. I helped you out. I mean, after I realized that pulling myself up was a lot easier than dragging you down."

"So you did kill Leah," I said flatly.

"Shhhh!" She let go of my wrists and my arms fell slack to my sides. "You're stressed out. It's understandable. Instead of focusing on me, get into the shower, and start thinking of answers for the Ainsworth committee. All right?"

She pushed me into the bathroom and turned on the water. The one window in the room was incredibly narrow. There was no way to escape.

She would kill my mother. Or she'd kill me, or she'd kill us both. It was essential I stop her - but I needed to do it in a way that would make people believe me. I couldn't imagine how I'd explain the story to the Bainbridge Police. There were too many pieces, too many strands, and not enough time. Because the second that she knew I wasn't behaving according to her script, she'd destroy me.

A knock on the door caused me to jump, banging my knee against the faucet. Blood spurted from the cut, the red falling in dark drips on the white tile.

It was only the beginning of the bloodshed. I knew it. If I didn't become a puppet in Jamie's plan, she would kill someone. Even if I did, she could strike. Anything was possible.

"Are you almost done? You don't want to be late!" Jamie yelled.

I turned off the water, wrapped myself in a towel, and stepped out to face my executioner.

Jamie drove me to the U. She didn't speak. Neither did I. I watched as we crested the hill into town, hoping that someone would see our mirror images and ... stop us? I didn't know. It didn't matter. No one did.

We drove up to the Beland Building, the neo-Gothic admissions office of the U. I'd been there countless times, for school trips and evening lectures. Now, everything looked strange and unfamiliar.

"Good luck," Jamie said. She turned and gave me a tight smile. "You know what to do. I'll be back in two hours."

I staggered out of the car, aware of Jamie's eyes watching my every move as I opened the imposing wooden doors and made my way toward the anteroom of the hall where the interview would be held. I slumped on a velvet-covered bench and held my head in my hands. I knew Jamie wasn't watching me. But I still felt under her control.

A middle-aged suit-clad woman poked her head out from the doorway.

"Hayley Westin?"

"Yes?" I squeaked. I sounded scared and tentative.

She gave me a hard look above her gla.s.ses, then c.o.c.ked her head to the side.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

I swallowed a lump in my throat and nodded.

She smiled. "Good. It's normal to be nervous. In fact, if you weren't, then I'd wonder about your sanity!"

She chuckled and I tried to laugh, only it came out like a bark. She glanced back at me strangely, and I tried to disguise the sound as a cough.

She cleared her throat. "Well then, come along," she said as she led the way up the polished marble staircase to the second floor where the interviews were taking place. "I'm Dr. Dunphy, and I'm so pleased to welcome you to the Ainsworth finals. We just had a young man from Bainbridge. How impressive for the two of you to have made it. I do hope that the compet.i.tion between you is friendly, though." Her voice held a note of warning as she escorted me into the Searles Room.

"Of course." There was no way I could ever tell her, or anyone, about Jamie. They wouldn't believe me.

"This is supposed to be a conversation." Dr. Dunphy snapped me back to reality as I realized that she'd been talking the whole time. She paused, her hand on the doork.n.o.b of the Searles Room. The thick frosted gla.s.s on the window made it impossible to see in. "This isn't so much of a test as a chance for you to discuss your goals."

I nodded mutely. It was odd being treated with so much respect after I'd been belittled at Serenity. It was all a matter of perception. In a charcoal suit, pumps, and soft eye makeup, I was promising. Intelligent. A credit to my community. In the shapeless gray sweats at Serenity, I was a mental patient.

"Are you sure you're all right? Take a few minutes and collect yourself. I promise I won't deduct points." Her tone was teasing and maternal, and my heart twisted. I wanted, so badly, for someone to take care of me right now. And there wasn't anyone.

"I'm ready now."

"That's what we like to hear." Dr. Dunphy smiled and opened the door. Inside, two men and one woman were seated in overstuffed green velvet armchairs. An untouched tray of coffee, m.u.f.fins, and bagels was set on a polished coffee table near their knees. One empty seat - a single, hardbacked chair - faced them.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Hayley Westin," Dr. Dunphy announced.