3

I didn't go to last period. I hid in Mia's favorite bathroom,the third floor one that nobody uses because the lock is broken and it smells like air freshener and texted Mom.

ME: Jaxon knows. He said I'm not Mia.

She replied in 30 seconds.

MOM:Don't be stupid Maya. Stick to the plan.

ME: He said we will talk after school.

MOM: Then don't talk to him. Go home directly. If he asks, say you have a doctor appointment.

It was a good plan. Cowardly, but good. Maya's specialty.

Except Jaxon was waiting at the school gate at 3 p.m. He is not at the front gate where all the parents park. At the side gate, the one I used to use when I was Maya, because it was near the dumpsters and no one saw me leave.

He knew.

He was leaning against his motorcycle ,helmet in his hand, looking right at me.

Everyone else was leaving through the front. No one would see us here.

"Mia," he called when he saw me. "Or should I call you something else?"

I thought about running. In Mia's tight skirt and heeled boots, I couldn't run fast. And he had a motorcycle.

I walked to him. Chin up. Mia walk. Even though my legs were shaking.

"Jaxon, what do you want? I have a doctor appointment," I said, trying to sound annoyed like Mia.

He smiled. It's was not his popular captain smile. A small, real smile that made his eyes crinkle. I had never seen that smile before. Mia never got that smile.

"Nice try," he said. "But Mia would never have a doctor appointment. She hates doctors. She said she'd rather die than let a doctor touch her perfect face."

He was right. Mia had said that once, loudly, in biology class.

"And Mia would never help a junior with spaghetti on her shoes. And Mia would never grab me like she needed me to stay standing when I kissed her. And Mia," he stepped closer, looking down at my eyes, "Mia doesn't have a small mole right here. Under her left eye. You do"

My hand flew to my cheek.Yes Mia didn't have a mole. Mom covered it with makeup this morning,I must have wiped it off and now it's visible .

"It's... it just...a ...scar...from..," I stammered.

"It not a scar,it's yours, Maya."

He said my name.

My real name.

I froze. Cold, all over, even though it was sunny.

"How..." my voice cracked. "How do you know my name?"

Jaxon looked away for a second, like he was embarrassed. "Because you were in my art club, Maya."

Art club. I had been in art club in 9th grade. Jaxon was in art club too, before he became basketball captain. He used to sit in the corner and draw shoes. I used to draw... him.

"You remember me?" I whispered.

"Of course I remember you," he said, surprised. "You were the only one who knew that Van Gogh cut off part of his ear, not the whole thing. You corrected Mrs. Lee. You were wearing that big grey hoodie even then."

He remembered the hoodie. He remembered me.

"So you're Mia's sister?" he asked.

Twin sister, I wanted to say. But Mom's threat rang in my head. No art school.

"It's complicated," I said.

He nodded like he understood everything. "Is she okay? The accident? Is it that bad that she can't come to school?"

"Her leg is broken. Three months," I said. It wasn't a lie.

"And they sent you? To pretend to be her?"

I didn't answer. That was an answer.

Jaxon sighed and sat down on the curb, right next to the dumpsters. He patted the spot next to him. "Sit. My legs hurt from practice."

Mia would never sit on a curb near dumpsters. She would say "Eww, my skirt."

Maya sat. Immediately. Because the curb was where Maya belonged.

We sat side by side, not touching. Two people who weren't supposed to be seen together in that area.

"So," he said after a minute. "Why are you doing it?"

I told him the truth. About the scholarship. About art school. About Mom and Dad. About three years of being the lookalike stalker. I didn't cry. I was too tired to cry.

When I finished, he was quiet for a long time.

Then he said, "You know what's funny? I've been dating Mia for a year. And today, in the cafeteria, when you helped that girl that's the first time I ever saw my girlfriend do something kind."

I looked at him. He was looking at his hands.

"Don't tell anyone," I whispered. "Please. If anyone finds out, I lose everything."

He looked at me then. Really looked at me.

"I won't tell," he said. "But you have to do one thing for me."

"What?"

"Stop trying to be Mia. You're terrible at it."

I laughed, surprised. A real laugh. "I'm trying my best!"

"Yeah, that's the problem," he said, smiling that real smile again. "Your best is too nice to be Mia. Just be Maya. In Mia's clothes. Nobody will notice except me. And I like Maya better anyway."

My face went hot. Red, all the way to my ears. Mom would have yelled about blush ruining makeup.

He stood up and put his helmet on. "I'll give you a ride home. Mia never lets me give her a ride because she says helmet hair ruins her image. You don't care about helmet hair, right, Maya?"

I didn't. I had spent my whole life with messy hair.

I got on the back of his motorcycle, wrapped my arms around his waist, and for the first time, I was not pretending to be someone else when I held him.

I was just Maya, holding the boy she liked, wearing her twin sister's stolen life.

And behind us, from the school window on the third floor, someone was taking a photo.

Chloe.

Jaxon dropped me two blocks from my house, like I asked.

"Helmet hair really is a thing," I said, trying to smooth my straightened hair in his motorcycle mirror.

"You look better with helmet hair," he said. "You look real."

He drove away before I could say thank you. Or before I could overthink what "real" meant.

I walked home fast. Mom's car was gone she was still at the hospital with Mia. Good. I had time to become Maya again, to take off these clothes that felt like someone else's skin.

I peeled off Mia's skirt, her shirt, her pantyhose. I put my old grey hoodie back on. I wiped off the makeup with cheap wipes. I took out the contacts my eyes burned with relief. I put my glasses back on.

In the mirror, Maya was back. Safe, invisible Maya.

But when I looked closer, my hair was still straight. My eyebrows were still shaped. My skin was still clear from Mom's expensive primer.

Even as Maya, I looked different maybe Better.

Mom came home at 7 p.m. She didn't ask about my day. She just said, "Mia is asking for her phone back. She says she is bored in the hospital. Give it to me, I'll take it to her tomorrow."

"No!" I said too quickly. "I mean, I need it for school. For her friends."

Mom narrowed her eyes. "Maya, don't get attached. That's her phone. Her life. You are borrowing it."

I handed it over.

At the evening Mom drove back to the hospital with mw

She let me come for 10 minutes to "learn how to be more like Mia"

Mia was sitting up, looking much better. Her cheek stitches were black and angry.

When she saw me, she smiled. But it was not a sister smile.

"So," she said, her voice still weak but sharp. "Mom says you're doing a good job.

I stared at the floor.

"Listen, Maya," Mia said, leaning forward, even though it hurt her leg. "I know you think this is fun. Wearing my clothes,But let me be clear. You are not me. You will never be me. Jaxon doesn't like you. So do anything to be distant from him.

Each word was a needle.

"Do your job. Take my tests. Keep my grades up. And stay away from Jaxon. He is mine. When I come back, you go back to your hole. Understand?"

I nodded. My old habit. Nod and disappear.

"Good," Mia said, lying back. "Oh, and Mom said you got 3 out of 5 on the math quiz. Mia would never get 3 out of 5. She would get 1 out of 5 and flirt with the teacher to get extra credit. Try harder to be dumb."

Tuesday morning, I became Mia again. Straight hair. Contacts. Dior perfume extra spray this time. Hide my mole with foundation.

Chloe hugged me at the gate. "Boba after school!"

Jaxon was waiting at his locker. When he saw me, he did not kiss me. He just nodded, like we had a secret.

And I understood being Mia was hard. But being Maya in Mia's clothes was even harder because for the first time, people were looking at me, and I didn't know if they liked what they saw, or just liked Mia's clothes.

First period, Mr. Davis gave back the quizzes.

He dropped mine on Mia's desk. On top, in red pen: 3/5 "Finally trying, Mia! See me after class?"

Chloe whispered, "Omg, he's gonna ask you to tutoring. He's obsessed with you."

I looked at the 3/5. Maya's 3. Not Mia's 1. I had already failed at being dumb.

After class, Mr. Davis said, "Mia, your handwriting today is different. More... neat. Did you hurt your writing hand in the accident?"

My blood froze.

"Yes," I said. "Yes, my hand."

He smiled. "Well, keep it up. I like this new handwriting better."

I walked out, hands shaking.

At lunch, I sat at the popular table and ate salad with no dressing. It tasted like paper. I watched the junior girl from yesterday she was eating alone in the back, where I used to eat. She saw me looking and quickly looked down, scared.

I wanted to go sit with her.

But Mia would never.

So I stayed, laughed at Chloe's joke that wasn't funny, and felt Jaxon's eyes on me from the basketball table.

My phone buzzed from my pocket. My original phone.

It was a text from an unknown number.

UNKNOWN: I know you are not Mia. Meet me behind the gym at 4pm or I tell everyone.