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to turn into me. She’s copied my hair style—she even dyed it to match my color. She bought the same clothes and made her voice sound like mine. And since I’ve left town, she’s taken over my boyfriend and my Facebook identity! I don’t believe it!”
    â€œWow,” said Brooke. She shook her head slowly. “Wow.”
    â€œ That’s why I changed my name,” I added, inspired. “I didn’t realize exactly what she was doing, but it was beginning to give me the creeps. People had started saying we looked like twins.”
    â€œWhat about Ashton?”Brooke inquired gently. “He’s part of this too. I mean”—she gestured at his grinning face—“it doesn’t look like she’s holding a gun to his head or anything.”
    â€œI’ll say,” I agreed. I heaved a big sigh. “I suppose she started working on him while I was locked up in my bedroom. Modeling herself on me the way she did, it’s no wonder he responded.”
    â€œYour parents lock you up in your bedroom?”
    â€œSure,” I said, surprised that she was so shocked. “All the time. Don’t yours?” In truth my parents hardly ever locked me up anymore, but I guess I’d assumed it was standard parenting practice when you caught your kid doing something wrong.
    She shook her head. “No! Never!”
    I was about to reassure her that an upside-down bucket made a perfectly adequate escape route, but decided that it was better to have her feeling sorry for me. Instead I slipped in a little flattery.
    â€œThat’s probably because you never do anything wrong,” I said.
    She blushed and wriggled all over like a puppy. “Oh, I do too ! You just don’t know me well enough!”
    â€œName something terrible you’ve done,” I said. “One thing.”
    By the time Brooke had reviewed the entirety of her sixteen blameless years and dredged up a misty memory of “stealing” a quarter she’d found under acouch cushion at age five, new images had appeared on Facebook, and Janelle’s stupid animation had vanished from sight and, I hoped, from memory.

5
    â€œI’M SORRY, DEAR, BUT YOU really do have to talk to your parents sometime, and I know they have something very particular to say to you.” Auntie X was holding the phone out to me, with a look that was half-sympathetic and half-stern. It was three days later, and with every day that passed I was more and more reluctant to be ejected from this cozy nest. That Mrs. Barnes—what a cook! Her desserts especially were beyond fabulous. I was going to grow into Janelle’s clothes if I didn’t watch out.
    For three nights in a row I had refused to utter a word to either of my alleged relatives when they’d called. A look at Auntie X’s and Uncle X’s faces—I really was going to have to figure out the names in this family sometime—suggestedthat my refusal was not going to be accepted one more time.
    â€œOkay,” I said. I started blinking my eyes fast and quivering my lips. I raised a hand to brush away a tear, in case I found myself able to produce one. I shifted my gaze to the floor as I reached out to take the phone.
    â€œHi,” I whispered, my voice husky.
    â€œWell, for goodness’ sake, Janelle, it’s about time!” said a snappy female voice from three thousand miles away.
    I said nothing.
    â€œIf you can stop sulking for long enough to listen, I’ve got some news for you.”
    I waited, breathing into the mouthpiece.
    An exasperated sigh came from the telephone. “Something unexpected has come up with your father’s work. There are problems on the site in Brazil, and they want somebody from the firm to go down and shepherd them through the process. Your father was going to send one of the younger engineers down, but we’ve decided—since you’re so nicely settled there in