Switched (4 page)

A
waitress decked out in a butcher’s apron appeared. “The usual?” she asked Ivy.

“Definitely,”
Ivy replied. “What about you, Olivia?”

The
waitress looked over expectantly.

“What
are you having?” Olivia asked Ivy.

Ivy
put her finger on Olivia’s open menu. “The Sink Your Teeth into This. It’s an
almost raw burger. It’s utterly dripping,” she said happily.

Gross
, thought Olivia. She wrinkled her
nose and turned back to the waitress. “I’ll have the Bunny’s Delight please.”
What
is it about bunnies in this town?
she wondered.

“You
want salsa on your tofu burger?” the waitress asked.

“Yes,
please,” Olivia replied. “Oh, and salad dressing on the side.”

She
hoped the sight of Ivy’s raw burger didn’t make her nauseous. They might be
twins, but they certainly didn’t have the same tastes.

“Considering
we’re identical twins,” Ivy said, “we’ve turned out seriously different.”

“Oh,
my gosh, I was just thinking that!” Olivia said. She cocked her head. “It must
be a real trip for you to see what you’d look like in pastels, huh?”

They
both laughed so loudly that the people in a nearby booth looked around to see
what was so funny.

This
time,
Olivia
thought blissfully,
I definitely sat at the right table!

Ivy’s
stomach was still fluttering, and it wasn’t because she’d laughed too hard or
wolfed down her burger. It was because she had a twin sister.

When
she really thought about it, she realized that she’d always known. That was the
feeling that had come over her the first time she saw Olivia in the hallway
this morning. It wasn’t just the strange sensation of seeing someone who looks
like you; it was the rush of seeing someone you’d waited your whole life to see
again.

Except
for one grave thing: How come Olivia didn’t know what a bunny was? They were
identical twins, right? So shouldn’t they be
identical
?

If
she doesn’t know
,
thought Ivy,
I can’t tell her
. “Hello, Olivia,” said a familiar
high-pitched voice.

Ivy
looked up.
Oh, yippee
, she thought sarcastically.
Charlotte Brown
.

“Hi,
Charlotte,” Olivia said.

“I’m
sitting over there with Katie and Allison,” Charlotte announced.

Olivia
smiled blandly. “Say hi for me.”

Charlotte
turned her back to Ivy and bent down, like she was going to tell Olivia a
secret. “I think you should know, Olivia,” she said loud enough for Ivy to
hear, “the Devils cheerleaders are like a really close group of highly elite girls.
And hanging out with
certain people
”
—
she made quotation marks
with her pink nails—“won’t really help you become part of the club at all.”

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.

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.”

Olivia
sighed and looked her sister in the eye. “Ivy,
natural
means healthy. It
means aglow with life, awash in sunlight. It means you woke up this morning on
the beach in California with a hottie feeding you grapes. You
need
spray-on
tan.”

“Brendan
Daniels doesn’t like grapes,” Ivy countered frostily. “I know for a fact.”

“Well,
this washes off anyway,” Olivia reassured her sister. “And who’s Brendan
Daniels?”

Ivy
just rolled her eyes. “Spray away.” She sighed, closing her eyes and relaxing
her face.

After
the spray-on tan, Olivia did Ivy’s blush and lip gloss. It was the eyeshadow
that really clinched it, though. Ivy now actually looked like a living person.
Olivia ran some gel through her sister’s hair and pulled it back in a ponytail.

“Okay.”
She smiled, stepping back and admiring her work. “Let’s switch clothes.” She
and Ivy each took a stall. Olivia pulled off her shirt and skirt, folded them
neatly, and slipped them underneath the blue metal divider. In return, Ivy
passed her a tangled wad of black fabric.

A
minute later, Olivia opened the stall door and stood looking at herself in the
mirror. A floorlength, black lace skirt was
so
not her style. Then
again, she did like the way it was slit up the side. Actually, she’d like to
try it with her green silk top and a pair of black heels.

Suddenly,
the stall door beside her opened. Olivia watched her sister take in their
reflections. Ivy’s eyes shifted back and forth—Olivia wondered for a moment
whether Ivy was having trouble remembering which reflection was her own—before
settling on the girl in the denim skirt and the pink wrap top.

“Pretty
awesome, huh?” Olivia said.

A
totally horrified look spread over Ivy’s face. “I never thought I’d look like .
. .” she began hoarsely.

Uh-oh
, Olivia thought.

“Charlotte
Brown!” Ivy’s face burst into a smile.

“Shut
up!” Olivia cried. “I do
not
look like Charlotte Brown!” She threw a
cosmetic sponge at her sister’s head in mock anger, but Ivy batted it away just
in time.

“I don’t
know—this top is seriously pink,” Ivy teased.

“I
have
way
better fashion sense than her, and you know it!” Olivia
protested lightly.

“Okay,
okay, don’t pop a blood vessel!” Ivy giggled, holding out her arms for Olivia
to spray them with tan, too. Then she took the can and sprayed her lower legs
and feet herself. “Geez, how do you wear short skirts like this all the time? I
feel as naked as Principal Whitehead’s head.”

“Well,
you look great. Except for the combat boots. They sort of ruin it.” Olivia
stuck her tongue out at Ivy.

Ivy
stuck her tongue out right back.

They
traded shoes.

“It’s
lucky I didn’t paint my toenails black,” Ivy said, peering down at Olivia’s
sparkly pink flip-flops.

Olivia
finished lacing up the heavy black boots and tried taking a few steps. “Oh, my
gosh.” She shook her head. “It’s like wearing cement blocks!”

Ivy
shrugged. “You never know when you might drop a refrigerator on your foot.”

Olivia
paced back and forth, trying to get the hang of walking. “Okay,” she said as
she went. “Show me your best cheerleader hair flip.”

Ivy
turned her head sharply. The dark ponytail whipped around and smacked her in
the face. “Ow!”

“Not
that way,” Olivia instructed. “Do it with grace. Lead with your chin. Like,
just pretend like you’re watching a mouse running across the floor with the
corner of your eye. That’s better. Good. Now let me see you smile.” Ivy bared
her teeth. “You look like you’re about to eat me for dinner.” Olivia giggled. “Relax!”

Ivy
tried again. And again. “Okay,” Olivia said, satisfied. “Whatever you do, don’t
stop smiling. My sunny disposition is one of my best qualities.”

Ivy’s
face lit up. “You bet!” She bounced, giving a big thumbs-up.

“Don’t
overdo it,” Olivia said. “In fact, you should probably just limit your
conversation to ‘Really?’ ‘Really’ is like the most versatile word in the
English language.”

Ivy
widened her eyes. “Really?”

Olivia
tried not to smile. “Oh, you’re going to make me look like a regular Einstein.
I can tell.”