Ivy rolled her eyes and took a sip of her lemonade. What a jerk! she thought.
“Actually, Charlotte,” Olivia replied in her own confiding tone, “I’m not sure if you know, but Ivy here is a huge fan of cheerleading. In fact, we were just talking about how good she looks in pastels!”
Ivy snorted, and her drink almost came out of her nose.
“Puh-lease,” hooted Charlotte. “I don’t think Ivy Vega could ever wear anything but black rags.” She turned around to look down at Ivy. “Sorry,” she said airily, “but you’ll never be anything but a drab Goth loser.”
“You shouldn’t judge people by appearances,” Ivy said icily.
“Oh, really? Then how come Jeff Moore, the coolest, hottest, cutest guy at school, has asked me to sit with him at lunch tomorrow?” Charlotte demanded.
“Because he wants to throw up?” Ivy suggested.
Charlotte grimaced and turned back to face Olivia, who hid her smile just in time. “The reason I came over here, Olivia,” she said pointedly, “was to invite you to join us at lunch tomorrow. Katie and Allison are going to be there. I suggest you be there, too.” She shot a grave look at Ivy. “Alone.” And, with that, Charlotte stomped back across the diner.
Ivy was so mad she felt like screaming. “If I wanted, I could be just as big a fashion victim as Charlotte Brown!” she fumed.
Olivia waved to the waitress and ordered a huge piece of chocolate cake with two forks. She leaned forward conspiratorially. “Sure. You’d make a great fashion victim, Ivy,” she agreed. A smile crept across her face. “I should know.”
“How come you look like a cat who just swallowed a bat?” Ivy asked suspiciously.
“Because I have an idea . . .” Her sister looked around to make sure no one was listening. “Since no one else knows about us, I think you should pretend to be me at lunch tomorrow,” Olivia said with grin.
“What?” Ivy demanded.
“Think about it, Ivy. How funny would it be if Charlotte went through a whole meal surrounded by all her best friends—including her new BF, me? Except that me will be you!”
It’s a killer idea, Ivy thought excitedly, but it’ll never work. “There’s no way we could pull it off,” she said, shaking her head. “I mean, we’re twins, but we’re not—”
“Identical?” Olivia interrupted.
“Okay. We’re identical,” Ivy conceded. “But we have very, very different . . . looks.”
“Nothing that a little spray-on tan won’t fix,” Olivia countered.
“You’re serious,” Ivy said incredulously.
“Dead serious,” Olivia replied.
That’s exactly what I would have said, Ivy thought.
“My Kinski denim skirt would look so hot on you!” Olivia said eagerly.
Ivy tried not to smile, since she was still playing devil’s advocate. “Okay, but what about the perky factor?” she asked. “It’s not like I can smile and eat cafeteria Jell-O at the same time like you can. My cover would be blown in seconds.”
“Don’t worry.” Olivia reached over and put her hand on top of Ivy’s. “I’ll coach you. Besides, what better way is there for twin sisters to get to know each other than to be each other?”
Olivia’s emerald ring sparkled at Ivy.
That decides it, Ivy thought. She leaned forward and said, “This is going to suck!”
Olivia’s face fell. “You mean you won’t do it?”
“No.” Ivy shook her head. “ ‘Suck’ is good! ‘Suck’ is really good!”
“Oh,” Olivia said. “Weird. So you’ll do it?”
“I’ll do it.” Ivy grinned.
“In that case, I’d like to propose a toast.” Olivia held up her glass. “To Ivy Vega, my twin sister.”
Ivy raised her lemonade. “To Olivia Abbott, my twin sister.”
They clinked their glasses. And then, at exactly the same moment, Ivy and her sister both laughed. “You suck!” they chorused.
Chapter 4
The next day, Olivia made her way to the science hall bathroom—which Ivy had chosen because it was the least-frequented bathroom in the school—and excitedly arranged her supplies on the counter: Santa Monica spray-on tan, Autumn Day blush, Shimmer lip gloss, Nature’s Sheen hair gel ....
The door opened a crack, and Ivy’s pale face appeared. She slipped inside and pulled a piece of cardboard out of her black patent leather purse.
Olivia’s eyes widened as her sister held up the makeshift sign: OUT OF ORDER.
“You wouldn’t!” Olivia said.
Ivy flashed a devilish smile that said Wanna bet? Opening the door a tiny bit, she screwed up her face in concentration and reached around to hang the sign on the doorknob, looking like a safecracker in a heist movie.
“Okay!” Ivy returned, empty-handed. “Make me pink.”
“Not pink. Natural,” Olivia corrected, handing her sister a facial wipe. “Start by taking off your eyeliner.”
In a matter of seconds, the white towelette was blacker than the rag Olivia’s dad used to shine his shoes. “Oh, my gosh, I knew you wore a lot of eyeliner. But this is really—”
Ivy gave her a look.
“Impressive,” Olivia finished and quickly changed the subject. “Anyway, I can’t believe how white your regular skin tone is,” she said, shaking the can of spray-on tan.
Ivy grabbed her wrist. “You are not putting that on my face.”