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their sides. I reach for one of the price tags: $3,175 for an Azzedine Alaia dress. It’s worth more than my entire wardrobe. I let my fingers run over the mistlike fabric.
    Then a pink gown with spaghetti straps catches my eye. It’s incredibly soft and looks like something Paris Hilton might wear on a rare good day. It’s not something I would ever wear, even if I had the body for it, because it’s just not me—I hate pink—and yet I have the urge to put the dress on.
    So I do. I know it’s weird, but I can’t seem to stop myself.
    Maddy is way taller and curvier than I am, so the dress hangs on my body like a drop cloth. But does that stop me from prancing around the room like a debutante? Sadly, no. I feel amazing in the dress, completely transformed. So this is what it feels like to be Madison Snow. Life suddenly appears a lot sweeter.
    I step in front of Maddy’s full-length mirror and do a shimmy. Then I pull the dress taut against my body and pile my hair on top of my head. Maybe Maddy was right. Maybe I should think about cutting my hair. I could use a change, and short hair would be so much easier to manage. Plus, with no guys around, who is there to impress?
    I can’t stop staring at myself. Is this what heiresses do? Pose in front of mirrors all day long?
    Suddenly I feel a twinge of panic. I feel strange and disoriented and I can’t breathe. It’s like I’m being consumed by Maddy. This dress, which was once on her perfect body, is now on mine. I’ve crossed a line.
    I try to distract myself with the framed photograph of Sebastian sitting on top of Maddy’s dresser. It’s a black-and-white snapshot of him lying in bed, looking unbelievably sexy, like he’s just woken up. I put down the frame, then open the top drawer of Maddy’s dresser. It’s a minipharmacy, with everything from Adderall to Zoloft. Is she depressed? Well, who isn’t? I pick up the bottle of Zoloft, but before I can open it, there’s a knock at the door.
    Shit.
    I try not to panic, remembering the door is unlocked. I put the bottle back into the bureau and slam the drawer shut.
    â€œMaddy? Can I come in?” It’s a guy’s voice. Sebastian? But Cornell’s so far away.
    I try to undress as quickly as possible. But then the zipper gets stuck. I tug and tug on it until it really gets stuck. Damn. I sprint toward the closet just as the doorknob begins to turn.

5
    F rom inside the closet, I hear the door open. I hope that whoever he is will go away once he realizes no one is here.
    â€œHello? Hellooooo. Anybody home?”
    He definitely sounds dumb enough to be Sebastian.
    â€œMaddy, are you here? Maddy? Baby?” He starts to whistle, and then I hear him mutter, “Oh, yeah. Uh-huh.”
    I stick my head out of the closet.
    Yup, it’s Sebastian, and he’s checking himself out in Maddy’s full-length mirror. As much as I hate to admit it, he does look pretty cute today. His hair is deliberately messy and he’s wearing jeans and a lime-green T-shirt. He sniffs his armpits and then looks up.
    When he notices me, he takes a step back. “Whoa, you scared me. Didn’t see you standing there.”
    â€œDon’t you knock?”
    â€œI did knock. You didn’t hear me?” He scratches the back of his neck.
    â€œI’m trying to get dressed.”
    â€œI’ll close the door.”
    â€œNo!”
    But it’s too late. The door is closed, and now Sebastian is busy locking it. He turns to face me, then leans seductively against the wall.
    We’re alone and it’s suddenly very quiet.
    â€œThere, that’s better,” he says with a wink. “Now you can get dressed.”
    â€œDo you mind?”
    â€œNo, I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all.” He gives me a toothy grin.
    Is he flirting with me, or am I hallucinating? I feel a bit light-headed. I glare at him. “What are