Just for Clicks

by Kara McDowell

  “So . . . you’re getting a new car?” I finally say, when it’s clear that Jackson is just as lost for words as I am.

  “Yeah!” His eyes light up. “I test-drove the new Mustang in California and it’s unreal. You would not believe the horsepower on that thing.”

  I smile without really listening. Jackson goes on about different car makes and models for the next fifteen minutes while my mind spins with the news of the reality show. It’s a perfect metaphor for my life. Mom makes a decision, Poppy’s thrilled about it, and by the time the dust settles, contracts have already been signed.

  My term was supposed to be up in eleven months. I’d love to tell Poppy there is no way in hell I’m forgoing my college experience for the chance at becoming a Kardashian, but she’d be crushed. Mom made it clear they want both of us. A packaged deal. If I refuse to play along, Poppy will miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime. But if I do it, I’ll lose another part of myself in pursuit of . . . what? More fans and followers? The constant need to look over my shoulder?

  Every few minutes, I smile at Jackson and nod to show him that I’m listening, but I think he would keep talking even if I didn’t. He doesn’t seem to care that I’m here at all, which gives me a chance to look at him in a way I couldn’t do near the end of our friendship, because my cheeks would’ve burst into flames. I take in his blond curls and his white teeth, and I can’t deny it. He’s still hot. Really freaking hot.

  But I’m not in love with him anymore.

  Not even a little bit.

  We’re sitting in the dark by ourselves, and I’m not nervous or excited. He hasn’t said anything slightly amusing. Did I used to think he was funny? Or was my entire crush based on the fact that he made me feel special? He made me feel seen, but not in the way Rafael does. When I was with Jackson, I knew other people were watching. Envying.

  I glance at the clock and see that Mom and Cami have been gone way too long. I wouldn’t put it past Mom to leave us alone in an effort to get us to “reconnect.”

  Jackson clears his throat and looks at me, clearly waiting for something.

  “Uh . . . sorry. What did you say?”

  “What’s going on in your life? Are you dating anyone?”

  I wince at his attempt at casual conversation. “Um. Nope.”

  “Look. I know this is awkward, but I just want to apologize for taking you to prom last year.”

  “Apologize?”

  “Yeah. I knew you liked me . . . I shouldn’t have lead you on like that.”

  “Why did you?”

  He ducks his head and stares at his hands. “Mom told me to. I think our moms have this fantasy we’ll get together someday. It’s stupid, I know. I should have just told her that I wasn’t interested.”

  My stomach sinks. It’s surprisingly easy to hear him say he never had romantic feelings for me, but the other part, the part about our parents, makes me feel ashamed. “It’s not entirely her fault.”

  “What do you mean?” His gaze meets mine.

  “Our followers got this idea that we should be a couple, and Mom wanted to keep them interested . . . but I did too. I didn’t realize it until tonight, but I used you. I’m sorry you got sucked into that mess.”

  “California is pretty far removed from the mess. You should move out there if the reality show doesn’t work out.”

  I sit back in my chair with a sigh. I don’t know if I want to go to California, but I loved having the option of removing myself from it all. In the course of one dinner, my entire future shrank. The only thing on my horizon is a camera.

  If I thought my memories of prom were tainted by an awkward goodnight high five, that’s nothing compared to the betrayal I feel now that I know the date was orchestrated by our mothers. Sure, I used Jackson too. But only because Mom put me in the position of having to compete with my twin sister. Add that to the fact that she’s literally been shopping me around to TV networks without my consent, and any trace of guilt I felt for reading Mom’s journal vanishes that night as I open the pages.

  I read all about her pregnancy. It’s weird to see her write “the baby” when it should say “the babies,” although it’s not new information for me. Years ago, she told Poppy and me that we were a surprise. Well, one of us was, anyway. Money was tight, my parents didn’t have health insurance, and they could not afford to have any ultrasounds done while she was pregnant. When she went to the hospital, she assumed she would come home with one baby. And then—surprise! Twins!

  The confusing thing is that she doesn’t mention money troubles in her journal, and it seems like she went to plenty of doctor’s appointments. I turn to an entry dated November 23. My birthday.

  A piece of paper that had been tucked in between the pages of the journal falls to my lap.

  Ashley,

  You’re living the life I want. If I can’t have it, maybe this baby girl can.

  I don’t want her.

  I hope you do.

  I read the note again. And then again. I read it half a dozen times, trying to make sense of the words, but it’s like the letter and Mom’s journal are pieces from two different jigsaw puzzles.

  I turn my eyes to the entry dated November 23.

  My baby girl is here. She’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

  That’s it. Nothing else. I read it again.

  Her baby girl. Singular. One baby. I pick up the note and read it again. It’s difficult to see the words through the tears that are pooling behind my eyes. It doesn’t matter though. I already have them memorized.

  I don’t want her.

  I hope you do.

  A tear breaks free and falls onto the page, blurring the old, blue ink.

  I close the journal, unsure if I want to know what comes next. Ten seconds later, I open it again, knowing I don’t really have a choice.

  The next entry is dated November 24. The handwriting is a messy scribble, as if Mom was writing in a hurry.

  I don’t know where to start. We still don’t have a name. Jason likes Poppy. I like Claire. You’d think we would have chosen before the baby was born but every time I tried to talk about it with Jason, he would laugh and kiss me. “Whatever name we don’t use, we’ll use it for the next one.”

  We planned on having six babies. When we got married I wanted four. He wanted five. For some reason, six was the compromise.

  It took almost three years to get pregnant. They were the longest and hardest years of my life. I started to doubt whether there would be one baby, let alone six. But then she came. My miracle baby came and I believed again. We planned for six.

  Labor was a blur. It happened so quickly, I don’t remember it. One minute, I was being checked into the hospital and the next minute, I was pushing and then my room was full of doctors and nurses. There was blood everywhere. I’ve never seen Jason so scared in my entire life.

  Seconds later, I was wheeled out of the delivery room and into an operating room.

  Placenta Accreta.

  That’s what they called it. I know because Jason wrote it down so he could tell me. It basically means there was a problem with the placenta and there was too much blood. The baby and I are both lucky to be alive. It also means that I won’t be able to have any more babies.

  We have to choose a name and I don’t know how to do it.

  November 25

  Mom called today and left a voicemail asking about how I’m feeling. I still haven’t told her I had the baby. I haven’t told anyone yet. No one knows we’re here. I haven’t posted any pictures online and I haven’t written in the blog. I don’t know how. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to name this sweet baby girl. I think I’m still in shock. I can’t stop crying.

  November 27. Thanksgiving.

  Today is a day of miracles.

  November 28

  I finally have time to write down everything that happened yesterday. It’s so incredible, I still can�
��t believe it. Jason was down in the cafeteria getting breakfast while I was taking a shower in my room. When I came out of the shower, there were two baby girls in my room. Two! I know, it sounds insane, but the second I saw this new baby, I knew she was meant for me. It was as strong as the feeling I had after giving birth. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Inside the clear bassinet thing that the hospital uses to wheel babies around was a note from her mom saying she didn’t want her. Before I could do anything, Jason came back into the room and paged for help. The nurses contacted hospital administrators, who apologized a million times for the fact that this happened. But I didn’t want them to apologize! I just kept asking to talk to the baby’s mother, and finally they let me. When I got to her room, I recognized her a little. Her name is Brittany and we went to high school together. She said she can’t take care of the baby and she kept meaning to find a family to adopt her but never got around to it. And then when she was in labor, she saw me being checked in, and she recognized me right away because she reads my blog! I KNOW. Anyway, she knows how hard it was for Jason and me to get pregnant and she thinks it was like, fate, that we delivered in the same hospital and she wants us to raise her baby girl. Everyone thinks Jason and I are out of our minds, but the hospital called in some lawyers and we all signed papers and Jason and I are officially and legally parents of the TWO most amazing baby girls I have ever seen.

  The clip of footsteps echoes on the tile hall outside my bedroom. Either Mom or Poppy passes my door, then turns around and backtracks to my room.

  I stop breathing.

  The footsteps pause again, and my door handle starts to twist. My brain is screaming at my hands to hide the journal and the letter, but I can’t make my body move. If it’s Poppy, I’m caught red-handed. If it’s my mom, I’m dead.

  I press my hands to my chest, trying to quiet my racing heart so it won’t be heard from behind the closed door. Every sense in my body is heightened, like I’m anticipating an attack. The handle slides back into place, and the footsteps return down the hall and into Poppy’s room, where the door shuts. I sag back into my pillows as relief blossoms through me.

  I should tell her what I found. I mean, obviously. This is a secret too big to keep. I’m shocked Mom hid it for this long. Tell the internet when Poppy had her first date, sure. Tell them you picked up a spare daughter as a replacement for the ones you couldn’t have? Nah. Who needs to know that?

  Images from my childhood flash through my mind, and the truth is so obvious my chest aches. I’ve heard countless strangers coo over how much Poppy looks like Mom, only to be shocked when they find out we’re twins. I always assumed my looks came from Dad. I never stopped to examine a photograph to find out if that was true.

  All the times I didn’t fit in. All the times Mom favored Poppy over me. I assumed it was just for clicks. More clicks equals more money. Even if I hated it, even if I fought against it, I understood why Mom favored the internet’s golden child. I never dared to think the reason I feel left out is because I actually don’t belong with this family.

  I have to tell Poppy. She would do the same for me because, despite our differences, she’s always been a good sister.

  My brain orders my legs to move, but they listen to my heart instead. I’m not ready for this conversation. I hide the journal under my bed and pull the covers over my head.

  Maybe that makes me a bad sister, but I’m not going to worry about that right now, because it turns out Poppy and I aren’t sisters after all.

  Email from a fan

  From: trevorsgirl@gmail.com

  To: poppyandclaire@dixondaily.com

  Subject: I LOVE YOU!

  Hi Claire!

  I saw that Jackson is in town this weekend. It must be so nice to spend time together after so many months apart! You guys are total relationship goals. My boyfriend and I are doing the long-distance thing. He’s in Ohio, I’m in Pennsylvania, and it’s so hard. I just miss him all the time. Do you have any advice on how to make it work? I’m worried we won’t last the whole four years of college, but I don’t know what I’d do without him.

  Thanks in advance!

  Bianca!

  P.S. I love your vlog!!

  The Valley of the Sun is urban sprawl at its finest. The Phoenix metropolitan area has pushed its way across the dry desert landscape in every direction, crawling toward the low, dusty mountains that surround the city. Lights from buildings, cars, and streetlamps twinkle below me for miles, like stars that were poured from the sky. The sun is just about done for the day, leaving a textbook Arizona sunset ablaze with reds, purples, oranges, and pinks so vivid, it looks like God tripped over paint cans. It’s even more spectacular from my seat in the dark foothills of the Sonoran Desert, where the saguaro cacti are a dark outline against the horizon.

  It’s Sunday night, and this is the first time I’ve left my bedroom all weekend. On Saturday morning, I shut myself in my room, claiming sickness. One glance in the mirror confirmed I looked the part. Despite the many hours of sleep I’ve gotten over the last two days, when I woke up this evening, I looked and felt restless. My skin was humming, commanding my body to move. I threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and rushed out of the house.

  An invisible force pushed me into my car, telling me to go. I rolled the windows down, turned the music up loud, and hopped onto the nearest freeway. Without realizing it, I drove north toward the mountain foothills. The road up the mountain is long and twisty. Paloverde trees and desert shrubs threw shadows on the ground. I turned off onto a street lined with large homes and parked my car on the road, flashing back to my first time here with Poppy and the rest of the swim team. It was the last day of freshman year, and we were drunk on warm night air and the feeling of freedom.

  One of the older girls showed us how to climb over a locked gate and sneak through a private backyard to get to the face of the foothills. From there, we climbed until we reached a flat stretch of rock where we could sit and gaze over the city. It felt like the top of the world.

  Now, I sit on the same spot and gaze out over the valley. I’ve been back several times since that first night, but I always come alone because I love the feeling of being away from everyone and everything else. It’s easier to breathe and easier to think up here. Unfortunately, that also means that the dark and scary thoughts that have tiptoed to the edge of my mind over the last two days finally have a place to put their feet up. Until now, I’ve pushed them away with the internet or TV or sleep. The glow of a screen makes it easy to avoid thinking.

  The only lights I see now are the ones sprawled out in front of me. For the first time in six months, cool air grazes my cheeks. Despite everything that has happened this weekend, I breathe a small sigh of relief. I survived another suffocating Arizona summer. One of the things I was most looking forward to about college was getting out of this town. Now, it looks like my only choice is to stay here and continue to be the third wheel in the Ashley and Poppy Show.

  For the millionth time, I wonder what my life would be like without Twin Tuesday or outfit photos or vlogs about makeup. For the first time, I realize this wasn’t the life I was supposed to have. Maybe landing with the Dixons was just a weird fluke, and I should go home right now and tell them I quit.

  But then I realize that quitting social media might actually mean quitting the family. By acknowledging I’m not really her daughter, Mom would finally have an excuse to admit that I’m not the daughter she wanted. I’m the difficult one who complains and rolls her eyes and can’t keep her mouth shut. And Poppy. My heart squeezes painfully when I think about how it would hurt her if I quit. She knows what she wants, and she needs my help to get it.

  I sigh and lay flat on my back. Stray pebbles dig into shoulders. My head is throbbing, and my body feels heavy and tired. Why did I think it was a good idea to come here? What I need is a distraction. Not a silent sky and an empty mountain.

  As if on cue, my phone vibrates in my pocket.


  Rafael

  This just in: homework sucks.

  I smile into the dark night sky. It’s the first text since the movie night.

  Me

  He texts! It’s a miracle!

  Rafael

  The jury is still out on whether I’ll ever do it again.

  Me

  That’s a lot of pressure on this one conversation.

  Rafael

  Don’t disappoint me, Just Claire.

  Me

  You want to take a break from homework?

  Rafael

  Always.

  Me

  Are you opposed to trespassing?

  Rafael

  Never.

  I send him my location, close my eyes, and wait.

  It’s not long before I hear a car approach. I keep my eyes closed and focus on steady breathing. A door slams. Footsteps crunch across gravel. And then, faster than I would have thought possible, I hear him panting.

  Panting?

  My eyes fly open as I sit up. Rafael puts his hand on his side and bends over, breathing heavily. He holds up a finger, asking me to wait for him to catch his breath.

  I jump up, unsure of what to do. I can’t believe I asked him to drive thirty minutes and climb up the side of a small mountain just to see me. He probably thinks I’m a lunatic. I bite my lip, thinking of ways to get out of this situation, when he glances up at me with a sparkle in his eyes. He straightens his back and takes in our surroundings. My shoulders relax as I realize he was messing with me.

  “Are you going to murder me and bury my body in the desert?” he teases.

  “Not unless you deserve it.” I slip off my flip-flops, and we both sit down.

  I’m afraid he’s going to ask why I’m here or, even worse, why he’s here. But he doesn’t. He looks out over the valley and whistles.

  “This. Is a view.”

  “It’s my favorite spot in the city.”