Doppelganger (19 page)

She held her hand out and beckoned. I could feel myself being pulled toward her, like there was some magnetic field emanating from her outstretched palm. I gritted my teeth and fought it.

“I don't want this,” I said, panting. “Let me go.”

“What is it, anyway?” she said, lowering her hand. She ran her hands down across her body. “Don't you find me attractive?” she mocked.

“Go to hell,” I said, closing my eyes.

“Ah,” she said, “I know what it is. It's her, isn't it? That human girl you're with—Amber, right?”

My eyes snapped open. “Leave her out of this,” I said. I could hear the blood pounding in my ears.

“That's pathetic,” she said, “even for a mixed blood like you. Doppelgangers don't fall in love. It's one of the cardinal rules. One of the
only
rules.”

“Besides,” she said, drawing up close to me so that her
face was right before mine, “why settle for a girl when you can have a woman?”

She unclasped the barrette holding back her hair and shook her head, letting her hair cascade down around her shoulders. Next thing I knew she was unbuttoning another button so that I could see her bra.

The whole scene was bizarre, almost comical in a sick sort of way. I felt like I was trapped in one of those soap operas I used to watch every day growing up. What made it even worse was that it worked. I found myself weakening again, just like before.

Suddenly her eyes flashed behind me toward the door and a slow smile crept over her face. I turned and looked over my shoulder.

Amber was frozen at the door, gazing in through the tempered glass with her mouth open in shock.

Our eyes met. Before I could do anything, she disappeared.

“Oh, that's too bad,” the doppelganger cooed. “Looks like you lost her. Just as well. It was going to have to end sometime.”

As nasty as the comment was, it was the best thing the sheganger could have said to me. I was so angry, all desire disappeared. I tore myself away and ran out into the hallway. Amber was gone. I sprinted down the hall and around the corner just in time to see her head through the door that led to the parking lot. I took off after her.

“Amber!” I shouted, throwing the door open and stumbling out into the parking lot.

She paused, looked back at me, and kept walking.

I caught up to her just as she reached her car. She started
to open her door, but I slammed it shut.

“What the hell
was
that back there?” she said. She wouldn't look at me, and I could tell she was trying not to cry. “So that's why you've been blowing me off all week.”

“No, of course not,” I said. I reached over to take her hand, but she swatted me away. “Like I told you at lunch, I got detention for skipping. I had to be there. I didn't have a choice. But nothing happened, Amber.”

I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should tell her who “Ms. Simpson” really was. It would've solved the immediate problem, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I wanted to keep Amber as far away from the situation as I could, and I figured it would be safer if she didn't know.

“That's not what it looked like to me,” she said, seeing me hesitate.

“It doesn't matter how it looks, I'm telling the truth. Nothing seems the way it is, you know that. I mean, look at me, for chrissake.”

“I don't know
what
I know. The last couple weeks have been so screwed up, I can't even tell what's real anymore.”

“That's why we have to trust each other,” I said.

She shook her head. “I thought I trusted you,” she said. “But the way you've been acting these last couple days, I don't know why I should. I mean, you skip out after school. You hardly talk to me at lunch. And don't give me that bullshit about being sick, either—”

“Amber, I'm losing it!” I shouted. “I'm losing Chris.”

She hesitated. “What do you mean?”

“Look,” I said. I pulled up my shirt and showed her the rash, a swirling red band that encircled my torso and spread up my back.

She winced when she saw it and looked away. I didn't blame her. It was pretty gross.

“I didn't know that could happen,” she whispered.

“It's been really bad the last few days. It's taking everything I've got to hold on. That's why I've been acting this way.”

“You never told me it wouldn't last,” she said.

“I didn't want to talk about it,” I said. “I didn't even want to think about it. It started more than a week ago, but then it stopped. I guess I was hoping that maybe it would go away for good. That I could stay being Chris, stay being with you.”

She looked back up at me. Her eyes sharpened.

“You talk about trust,” she said, “but you don't even trust me enough to tell me what you're going through, or trust that I can handle it.”

I looked away. She had me there.

She shook her head. “I don't know what all this means. I've just got to think about it,” she said, getting into her car. “I hope you feel better.”

Then she drove off.

As I watched her disappear, I thought about what she'd said. And the more I did, the more I realized she was right. I mean, I'd trusted her with the biggest secret of all by telling her who I was, what I was about, and she hadn't turned me away or tried to hurt me. So why couldn't I have told her that Chris would soon be gone?

I guess when it came right down to it, I just wasn't ready to stop being Chris yet. I wasn't ready to go back to being what I really was.

That's what I would tell her the next time I saw her. She would understand. I mean, when you love someone, that's what you do, right?

When I got to school the next morning, there was a note taped to the inside of my locker, written in Amber's round letters: “I'm sorry about yesterday. Meet me in the parking lot after fourth period.”

As soon as I read the note, I felt better. In fact, I went practically the whole morning without feeling like I was going to crack out of my skin—the first time in three days.

Fifth period was when I normally met Amber for lunch, so instead of going to the cafeteria after fourth period ended, I went to the main office to sign out.

“I have a dentist appointment,” I said.

“Didn't you just have one last month?” the secretary asked. She was a heavyset woman with dyed hair that matched the color of her skin, making her look like a bronzed statue someone had dressed in frumpy clothes as a joke.

Damn
, I thought.
How do you remember that in a school with a thousand kids?

“Well, I have another one,” I replied.

“Do you have a note?”

“My mother forgot to write me one. I'll bring one in tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow's Saturday.”

“Then I'll bring one in on Monday.”

She gave me a sort of frown and glanced back at the principal's office. For a second I thought she was going to bust me, but then she handed me the clipboard.

“Floss,” she said as I signed my name on the sheet.

“Excuse me?”

“If you floss, then you won't get cavities.”

“Thanks, I'll try to remember that.”

“Forget the dentist; you should see a doctor,” she said as I started to leave.

I stopped and looked back. “What do you mean?” I asked.

“You don't look so good,” she said, and brushed her neck a few times, nodding in my direction.

I reached up and felt the side of my neck. The skin was all bumpy. I didn't even have to look to know the rash had spread. Not only that, I suddenly realized my hands were all blotchy and chaffed. I turned and practically ran out of the building.

Amber was waiting in her car. When I came up beside her and knocked on the window, she jumped. But when I got in, I could tell she was relieved to see me.

“I was starting to worry you might not show.”

“Are you kidding?” I said. “It's all I could think about.”

As she started the car and drove out of the parking lot, I pulled down the visor in front of me and glanced in its mirror. Sure enough, the right side of my neck was covered
in little red welts. I flipped the visor back and turned up the collar of my jacket.

For a long time, we didn't say anything. She just kept driving with this real serious look on her face.

“Where are we going?” I asked her as we headed out of town.

“It's a surprise,” she said.

Pretty soon I could tell we were heading toward the lake where she'd taken me a couple weeks ago—the day I'd revealed myself to her. Only, once we got there, instead of going into the parking lot, she kept driving before turning onto a road about a half mile past the park. Soon the road started to climb, twisting back and forth up this steep hill.

“Discovered this place yesterday afternoon when I was driving around,” she said. “I was so busy thinking, I went right past the park. Next thing I knew, I was making my way up the hill. Can't believe I never thought to drive up here before.”

A minute later the road came out of the trees and ended at a lookout over the lake. I could see Bakersville in the distance. For a second it reminded me of the mountains where I'd grown up, except all I'd been able to see there were trees.

“Wow. Nice view,” I said.

I looked over at her and saw she was smiling, and all of a sudden I forgot about my itching, about the sheganger, about the Parkers. I forgot about everything.

“Let's go,” she said. “I'm hungry.”

We got out of the car, and while Amber rummaged in the trunk, I walked over to the edge of the lookout and glanced down. The cliff dropped almost straight into the
water about a hundred feet below. Suddenly I felt a little woozy and stepped back.

“Don't let yourself go.”

I turned around and saw Amber standing there with a blanket tucked under one arm, holding a basket.

“Why would I?” I said.

She shrugged. “I read once that the reason people are scared of heights isn't because they're afraid of falling. It's that they're afraid of jumping.”

“You think people want to die?”

“Maybe a little part of them.”

“What about you?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I'm a teenager,” she said, and laughed. “We all think we're going to live forever, right?”

“What's in the basket?” I asked her. I wanted to change the subject.

“I made us a picnic,” she answered.

“It's a little cold for a picnic, isn't it?” Even though the sun was out, the air had a bite to it.

She shrugged again. “You've got to take your opportunities where you can,” she said, looking down. I knew what she meant—neither of us knew what was going to happen.

I helped her spread the blanket out, and pretty soon we were eating lunch. She'd gone all out—gourmet sandwiches, fresh salad, stuffed olives. Some of the best food I've ever tasted.

“Thanks for bringing me up here,” I said after we'd finished eating. “This is really nice—the food, everything. It's great.”

“I drove all over the place yesterday afternoon,” she said. “I thought about what you said, about what you were
going through, how hard it must be. It made me feel horrible. All of a sudden, I just felt so selfish.”

“No, Amber,” I said. “You were absolutely right. I should have told you before. I should have trusted you. I just didn't want to think about it myself, let alone worry you about it.”

“Well, I do worry,” she said. “I want to worry. That's what you're supposed to do when you're with somebody.”

“You're right,” I replied. “I guess I'm just not used to having someone that I can tell things to. I've been alone my whole life. Even when I was with my mother, there was all this space there between us, in spite of that tiny little cabin. I never knew who she was going to come home as, who she was going to be next. And for the most part, she did her own thing. I just knew enough to stay out of the way.”

“See, that's what I mean,” she said. “Hearing that makes me sad.”

“I never thought so growing up,” I said. “It never even occurred to me that I should. That's not how doppelgangers think.”

“Then that's even sadder,” she said.

“I guess,” I said. “I think what it comes down to is all of us hate ourselves. The doppelgangers, I mean. Not just the way we look—we can't help that—but
because
we feel that way about how we look. And because we're dependent on our urge to become something other than what we are.”

“Well, that may be true,” she said, “but you're not alone. Lots of people want to be someone different than who they really are. I mean, look at half the kids in our school. Same thing with hating yourself. I know I did for
the longest time when I was with Chris. And like you said that night when we buried him, so did he. It makes me mad because it didn't have to be that way. It could have been better. It could have been more like…”

“More like this,” I said. She nodded.

The wind picked up and it was starting to get colder, so we fetched another blanket from the car and wrapped up together. For a long time, we just sat and watched the lake, watched the seagulls as they wheeled over the water, and didn't say anything. She sat in front of me, leaning back a little against my chest, and I could smell her hair like I'd been able to the night I slept in her room. All of a sudden, I wished we never had to move. I wished we could just freeze right there like a single statue that would forever be the same.

A long time passed before she broke the silence.

“So what are we going to do?” she asked, taking my hand under the blanket.

“I don't know,” I said. “Pretty soon I'll have to let go of Chris.”

“Will you become somebody else?” she said. It was the question I'd hoped she wouldn't ask.

“Maybe,” I said. “I mean, probably. At some point.”

She leaned forward and turned around to face me.

“We could run away,” she said. “I could go with you. You know, help you find people to become. We could find the bad people, people no one would miss.”

“You mean like Chris?” I said.

Amber didn't reply. She just glanced at the ground.

“I don't know if there are such people, Amber. That's what makes human beings different from doppelgangers.
If one of us disappears, no one's the wiser. None of the others care. People are different.

“Besides,” I added, “you can't leave. You're only sixteen.”

“So are you.”

“Yeah, but you've got a life. You can't just leave it.”'

“But I have you,” she said. “You're a part of my life.” She hesitated. “Then, promise me you'll come back. Promise me you'll keep coming back. I won't care who you are.”

“Let's just forget about it,” I said. “I don't want to think about it right now.”

There I was, going right back into denial mode. But talking about the whole thing was starting to make me feel really depressed, and it wasn't the right time or place to feel that way. I figured there'd be more than enough time later.

She frowned but didn't say anything.

“My parents are going away for the weekend,” she said after a few minutes. “They're leaving this afternoon.” She took my hand again. “I was thinking you could come over. Spend the weekend with me, you know?”

My heart started pounding. Suddenly I felt all nervous.

“Okay,” I said.

“What's that?” she said, reaching for my neck. I drew back for a second and put my hand up, thinking she meant my rash, but she pushed my hand aside and pulled the chain out from under my shirt.

“Just a necklace.”

“I don't remember seeing it before. Where'd you get it?”

I hesitated, remembering how it sparkled around the old man's neck in the moonlight. “I found it a while ago,” I said. “A long ways from here. It's the only thing I have
that's really mine.”

She turned the medallion over and examined it up close.

“St. Jude,” she said, reading the back. She looked up at me. “The patron saint of lost souls.”

“Figures,” I said, and tried to laugh. She let go of the necklace and looked down at the lake.

A few minutes went by and we didn't say anything. Then she turned back to me.

“You know you could stay around, stay with me and not be Chris. Not be anybody. Just yourself.”

“How's that?”

“Let me see you,” she said. “The real you. I want you to show me.”

I shook my head and looked away.

“I don't care what you look like,” she said. “I'm not shallow, you know.”

“It's not even a matter of that. You've never seen a doppelganger before. Trust me, we're repulsive.”

“How bad can it be?”

“Just imagine the ugliest thing you can think of in the whole world,” I said. “Whatever it is, it isn't even close. I can't explain it any better than that.”

She looked down for a moment. “All right,” she said at last. “But I won't ever care what you look like.”

“Thanks,” I said. I really did believe that
she
believed it. And who knows, maybe she would've been able to handle the sight of me, but I wasn't ready to go there.

“I do love you, you know,” she said, looking back up.

“I love you, too,” I said. “I have probably since the first time I saw you.”

“Isn't it strange that way?” she said. “How you know before you know?”

I kind of laughed. But the funny thing was, I knew exactly what she meant.

“Oh!” she suddenly said. “I almost forgot. I have a present for you.”

She pulled a small box wrapped with red ribbon from her jacket pocket and handed it to me. “I got it last weekend when we went away. I was too mad to give it to you earlier.”

Nobody had ever given me a present before. I opened the box and looked inside at the little silver square. “What is it?” I said.

“It's a cell phone,” she said, laughing. She took it out, unfolded it, and handed it to me.

“Now we can talk to each other no matter where we are. See, my cell number's already in here—just press this button,” she said. She showed me how to answer a call, and how to make one. “Don't worry, it's already paid for. And look, it even takes pictures.”

She scooted up beside me and held the phone out in front of us as far as she could.

“Say cheese,” she said, and laughed. The next thing I knew, there we were, the two of us smiling together on the little screen.

I turned it over. There was an inscription on the back, engraved in fine letters: “Gabriel.”

“What's this?” I asked, holding up the back of the phone.

“That's your name,” she said. “I thought you needed one of your own, so I made one up for you. Gabriel.
You know, like the archangel?” When I didn't respond, she quickly added, “If you don't like it, we can choose another.”

“No,” I said, finally finding my voice. “Gabriel is perfect. Even better than the phone.”

“I'm glad you like it,” she said. “I was a little worried you wouldn't. I wasn't even sure if you wanted a name.”

She smiled and leaned back so that she was resting on her elbows. I could tell she was relieved. A breeze came up and blew a strand of hair across her face.

I held the phone up so that she was framed in the tiny screen and pressed the button like she showed me. The strand of hair, blazing red in the sun along the edge of her smile, froze on the screen.