Chapter 4

My parents' demands grew harsher with every passing day. If I didn't get a perfect score, I was beaten or berated.

I used to think they were just pushing me to succeed. Looking back, I realized that wasn't it. They didn't want me to succeed for my sake.

Instead, they needed me to get a score high enough for what they wanted. Because that score was never really mine.

I thought back to third grade, when my parents had come home from the city to visit Grandma. I'd gotten perfect scores on my tests, and I couldn't wait to show them.

At the time, Mom was brushing Olivia's hair. Without even looking at me, she said, "Leave it on the table."

Later, one of the tests went missing. I spent hours looking for it, but never found it.

Months later, while we were doing a deep clean of the house, I found it in a drawer in Olivia's room. The paper was badly crumpled and covered in scribbles, with Olivia's name scrawled across it in messy handwriting.

I'd asked her why she'd taken my test, but she just laughed. "I thought it'd be fun. Besides, nobody cares what you scored anyway."

I hadn't thought much of it back then. Looking back, I wondered if that had been when my parents started laying out their plans.

They had been testing how easily people could tell Olivia and me apart, gauging just how much we could pass for each other. And the answer was obvious. Most people couldn't tell the difference.

If Mom and Dad switched our scores, put Olivia's photo on my registration and mine on hers, who would ever know? Who would ever suspect a thing?

After all, we were twins.

I didn't dare take the thought any further. If this had all been a scheme from the beginning, just how twisted was that?

I rolled over and buried my face in my pillow. Tears ran down my cheeks, soaking into the fabric.

…

The next morning, I was up before dawn.

When I came out of my room, my parents were already in the living room.

Mom saw me and smiled. But there was something so unfamiliar about that smile that it sent a chill down my spine.

"Olivia, you're up. Come have breakfast. I made your favorite sandwiches," she said.

Olivia was my sister's name. Mine was Victoria.

At that, I froze for a beat.

Mom, too, realized her mistake. But all she did was smile. She made no attempt to correct herself.

Without a word, I walked over and sat down at the table. A lavish breakfast had been laid out in front of me, with sandwiches, milk, fruit salad, and even a yogurt bowl.

None of this had ever been part of my breakfast before.

What did I normally have?

Sometimes, it was a bowl of plain oatmeal. Other times, it was whatever was left from dinner the night before. If I slept in, I didn't even get that.

Just then, Olivia came out of her room wearing a brand-new dress, her hair styled neatly.

She glanced at the breakfast spread and pursed her lips. "Mom, why are you being so nice to her?"

Mom glared at her. "What are you talking about? Your sister's repeating senior year. She needs to eat well."

The words "repeating senior year" made my hand stop, the sandwich halfway to my mouth.

"I've found the best prep school for you," Dad said. "It costs 20 thousand dollars a year, but your mother and I will find a way to pay for it."

He set down his newspaper and looked at me. His voice was gentler than usual as he went on, "Victoria, you didn't do well on the SAT this time, but we're not blaming you. We'll give it another shot next time."

But was it really me who hadn't done well?

Even then, I kept my head down and said nothing.

Across from me, Olivia popped a piece of fruit into her mouth and giggled as she chewed. "Victoria, aren't you always working so hard? How did you end up with such a low score? Maybe all that studying was just for show."

Her voice was sweet, but every word carried a sting.

"Olivia," Mom snapped.

But there was no real anger in her voice. If anything, she sounded amused, as though she were only scolding Olivia for show.

Olivia stuck out her tongue and continued eating.

At that moment, Dad picked up his coffee and asked in a seemingly casual tone, "Oh, right. Victoria, you said you got up for some water last night because you were thirsty?"

There it was. My chest tightened, but my face gave nothing away.

"Yes. I woke up thirsty."

I looked up at Dad and met his gaze calmly. "Why?"

Dad and Mom exchanged a glance. Then, she jumped in. "Nothing. You've just seemed really stressed lately, and we were worried you weren't sleeping well. By the way, did you hear anything last night?"