Point Horror: Identity Theft Part 13

I jostled the trackpad of the laptop and logged into my e-mail, not sure what to expect. But everything was normal. A few messages from the Yearbook listserv that I couldn't unsubscribe from, even though I'd made the list in the first place, an invite to a potential students' weekend at UPenn, a Kendra-sent link to Flickr pictures from Alyssa's party. I read through each quickly, was relieved to see that none of Kendra's pictures included me, and then reached the top of the list.

And then I shrieked.

CONGRATULATIONS! screamed the subject line. But what I noticed was the sender name: Lucinda Ainsworth.

I clicked.

Dear Hayley Westin, We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected to advance to the final round of the Ainsworth scholars.h.i.+p search. As a finalist from New Hamps.h.i.+re, you will need to schedule an interview for Monday the 26th, at the admissions office of the University of New Hamps.h.i.+re: Bainbridge campus. Please contact us at your earliest convenience to confirm.

In Scholars.h.i.+p,

Lucinda Ainsworth, on behalf of Alice Falconer Ainsworth

I blinked at the message, half expecting it to disappear. But it didn't.

Oh my G.o.d.

I wanted to celebrate. I wanted to call someone, to scream into the phone, to pop a bottle of champagne and toast to my dreams coming true. I rifled through my purse, but my phone wasn't there. Weird. Then I remembered how I'd dropped my bag in the parking lot. Had my phone fallen out, and I hadn't noticed?

I glanced back at the message, reading it again just to make absolutely sure that I hadn't imagined anything. And then, an instant message popped up on my laptop screen.

You're a lucky girl, aren't you? Future Ainsworth scholar ... if you stay alive that long.

The avatar next to the message was the same as the one from the original Facebook profile - complete with a bikini, sungla.s.ses, and a flirty, secret-hiding smile. It was her.

"Sadie!" I called sharply. Sadie barked once, then dropped to the ground, continuing to gnaw on a sock. If something was wrong, she certainly didn't know. Couldn't dogs sense ghosts?

I slammed the laptop shut and ran to the kitchen, turning on all the lights along the way. I knew I couldn't run. I couldn't. Because she - it - knew who I was. Knew where I was. Still, I grabbed a bread knife from the kitchen and inched upstairs to my computer. A new message was blinking on the screen.

You can run, but you can't hide, Hayley. I know you too well.

"Where are you?" my voice echoed. The heater hissed in the corner. The wind rattled against the windows.

The green message window flashed. I clutched the bread knife more tightly as another message popped up on the screen.

Ignoring me won't make me go away.

I took a deep breath, fingers poised over the keyboard, a million thoughts rus.h.i.+ng through my head: I'm sorry. Don't kill me. Did you kill Leah? What is happening?

Finally, I typed: Are you my sister?

The message box was empty. A minute pa.s.sed. I placed the knife on the desk. Glanced at the curtains fluttering over the window. Ma.s.saged my temples. Repeated I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry like a mantra. Then, when the message box stayed dormant, I typed a single question mark.

And then, another message popped up.

Someone's been doing some research. Congratulations, you know who I am. Took you long enough.

I paused and took a deep breath. The wind slammed against the windows, louder and harder. I typed back, What do you want?

Instantly, a message appeared. What do I want ...

"Yes," I said out loud. I clutched the knife again. "Yes!"

It was a shriek that caused the windows to rattle. Sadie barked, three short, raspy, alarm-like sounds.

"Tell me," I said in a quieter voice. I sounded like I was begging.

And then, the words appeared on the screen - slowly and deliberately, as if whoever was typing them knew my heart was pounding, my hands were shaking, and my pupils were dilating with each letter.

That's for me to know and you to find out. Maybe it's time to do another round of detective work? You never know what you'll find until you look for it ;) And then, the icon disappeared.

User has signed out of chat.

"h.e.l.lo?" I called. Nothing.

Sadie glanced up at me curiously.

"h.e.l.lo?" My voice was shaky. "What do you want me to do?"

I glanced at the computer screen. Nothing.

"Fine." If this was the game that I was supposed to play, I'd do it. Clearly, the spirit or ghost or whatever expected me to be afraid. It probably expected me to run away. But I wouldn't.

Instead, I took the stairs, two at a time, to my mother's room.

Tucked under the eave of the attic, my mother's oddly shaped room wasn't one I often went in. It wasn't one she often went in, either, preferring to sleep on the couch. It didn't have any sense of her the way that her office did at The Sound and the Story.

I tugged on a drawer and glanced down at piles of folded s.h.i.+rts. The next drawer held ancient notebooks. I picked one up: Get Motivated to Go Back to College Project read the lines on the first page. The rest of the pages were blank.

Then, I tugged out the third drawer. It was stuck, the edge of the wood being held back by a yellow swath of fabric.

I tugged harder. The wood creaked and pain shot through my finger. I looked down to see a large splinter sticking out from my skin, blood dripping onto the fabric. Wincing, I yanked out the sliver of wood with my teeth, then resumed pulling.

The drawer fell to the floor with a clatter, causing an eruption of children's clothing from when I was little.

I picked up a frayed blue sundress. It had been my favorite until I'd dropped an ice-cream cone on it at the county fair when I was five. I touched the still-visible stain, remembering how my mother had spent half an hour at the sink in the crowded, hot restroom trying to scrub it out.

My stomach twisted. I couldn't even think of simple memories without wondering whether she'd been missing the daughter who wasn't there.

I balled up the dress and continued to sift through the rest of the clothes. At the bottom of the drawer were a few scattered film negatives, the celluloid cracked. I held one of them up to the dim light.

It was a picture of a newborn. I'd seen photos of me as a baby: They were all red-faced, screaming, as if angry at the indignity of birth. The image of the baby on the film was quiet, placid, staring straight into the camera.

I fanned through the strips, holding the next one to the light. It was the same baby, taken from a slightly different angle. Only there was something else, at the very bottom of the frame. It was a foot. It was grainy and blurry, as if the photo had been snapped midkick. The rest of the body was out of the picture, but it was clear: There had been two children.

Two live children.

So why had my mother been lying? And where - or what - was my twin doing now?

"I'm not afraid," I said in a small voice, trying to convince myself.

And in a way, it was true.

I was terrified.

I woke to a loud thud against the window.

My eyes shot open. Through the window, Keely was blinking down at me.

You okay? she mouthed, motioning to me to open the door.

I hastily yanked the handle open and stood up, blinking in the bright sunlight. The parking lot was half-full. I'd slept through the initial zero-period rush and felt like I could sleep for hours longer.

I'd survived. I hadn't been killed. I suppose it should have felt like a victory, but it felt only like the ghost, or whatever she was, was toying with me.

"Um, I know you love school, but sleeping here?" Keely wrinkled her nose and took a few paces back from me. Not like I blamed her. I hadn't showered since Sunday. "That's so not clutch."

"I know it looks weird." Act normal. "It's just ... my mom and I got into a fight, and ..." I trailed off, hoping my vague explanation would be enough.

Keely winced. "Well, the next time that happens, you could just come over to my house. Seriously. You don't need to be a car-sleeping weirdo." Keely shook her head as Ingrid sidled up to her.

"Yo," Ingrid said in a bored voice. "Sleeping in your car is, like, very Euro. We did that all through Spain to save money."

"Cool," I said tightly.

"Ing, it's gross," Keely said dismissively. "Seriously. Anyway, you should get yourself cleaned up or whatever. Especially before Matt sees you. I'd wanted to tell you that I think it's cute you two are hanging out. But it's hard to do that when you're not cute. No offense or anything."

"Yup." Ingrid nodded and took a sip of her iced coffee while Keely beamed at me, clearly expecting me to respond. This must have been what Matt meant by getting Keely's blessing on us dating.

"Thanks, Keely," I said. I forced a smile. "It's great to hear. Really."

"Um, okay ... don't get all, like, overenthusiastic or anything. I just thought you'd want to know."

"I do! I'm just ... it's been a weird few days. Hashtag: anticlutch."

A small smile appeared on Keely's face as she raked her fingers through her hair. "No worries. Sometimes people get weird. Like, I got this pedicure on Sunday with this new color called Poison Apple and I thought it'd be, like, all cool-looking. And instead, it looks like dried blood. And, seriously, it's, like, totally messing with me." Keely held up her sandal-clad foot and twirled her ankle in my direction.

"That's intense." I tried to sound interested. Ingrid slurped her iced coffee. Keely leaned down to brush a nonexistent speck of dirt from her toenail.

I coughed. I wanted to say something, but wasn't sure where to begin. So, I think I have a secret twin wasn't exactly before-school conversation. And it wasn't like I wanted them to know. But I felt like I had to tell someone. Someone like ...

"Yo!" a male voice called.

I whirled around. Matt.

"Skipping again, Westin?"

My stomach clenched. "Not really." Seeing Matt was like grabbing a floating piece of driftwood in an otherwise empty ocean. He wouldn't save me, but seeing him made me feel a teeny bit more supported.

"You were skipping?" Keely raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed.

"You couldn't have had too much fun," Matt teased. "I found your phone. It's in my car. Want to grab it?"

"Yeah. See you guys," I said as I trailed behind Matt. I was grateful to have an excuse to get away from Keely's watchful gaze. How was it possible to actually get to know someone when every conversation was under a microscope?

"I actually have it here," he admitted, reaching into his pocket and pulling out my phone from his shorts. I tried to ignore the jolt of electricity that occurred as our fingers touched.

"Thanks."

"You weirded out on me yesterday. I was wondering if you were mad at me about something," he said shyly.

I shook my head. "Just overwhelmed with stuff." I glanced down at my phone. A bunch of missed calls from Mom. One from Adam. And one unknown number. I'd deal with it all later.

"That's why you should take a break. Another one. Come out with me on Friday night." Matt wiggled his eyebrows up and down.

"Out?" I repeated.

"Yeah. Like, grab some food, walk around, talk. All that stuff. I mean, we had that heavy conversation at your place.... I feel like you need some serious chill time. Like, for real."

"For real," I repeated.

"Yup." Matt nodded. I nodded. I didn't want to be the one to say good-bye first. I wanted the moment to last forever. This seemed way more real than my night of terror.

All of a sudden, the bell rang, causing kids to appear from behind trees and slide out of the backseats of cars, as if they were playing some ma.s.sive game of hide-and-seek. I watched them curiously, as removed as an anthropologist. I wished I could go back to only worrying about school and cla.s.s schedules. I didn't think I ever could.

"Ready?" Matt asked expectantly.

"Um ..."

"Westin, skipping again?" He clapped his hand to his mouth in mock horror. "I never knew you were such a secret bad girl."

I grimaced at the word secret.

"You okay?" Matt's eyes widened.

"Yeah." I nodded. "I'm ready." But I didn't make any move to walk toward the doors.

"Geez, Westin, you're asking for it." He grabbed my waist and threw me over his shoulder.

"Hey!" I shrieked. I knew it was what I was supposed to do. "Put me down!"