The Pretenders

by Rebecca Hanover

“Someone buzz Tessa,” I tell my friends, leading them to a quieter spot, away from the lake. “Does anyone have her number?”

  “I do,” Theodora replies. She sends off a hasty buzz. “No response yet. But I bet they don’t let you text all day at Creekside. We could call Creekside directly. If you really think there’s a chance that’s not Tessa out there at the party, and the real Tessa could still be in at her treatment program…”

  This all sounds so strange, and we all know it. Not the real Tessa? Then who is it? Another clone? From where?

  “It’s worth a shot,” I say. “Dash, locate the number for Creekside Rehabilitation Center.” The others start to make plans. Ansel is going to talk to Archer.

  “I’ll hunt down Jake. Ask him what the hell was going on earlier today. And who that other Jake is,” I say, feeling more and more concerned with every passing second. “Pru and Ollie, come with me?” They agree, and we all split up, promising to keep each other apprised if we discover anything. Like any of our teachers…

  Pru, Ollie, and I head to the dorms. We knock on doors, check all the common areas and the Tower Room. Nothing suspicious there, but then again, we don’t know what we’re looking for. Pru offers to head to Ransom’s on-campus house, and Fleisher’s, to see if there’s anyone there. She goes, and I lead Ollie to the soccer field.

  “They were right here, talking,” I explain. “One of the Jakes—the one in pajamas—was accusing the other Jake of screwing with his life. He said the other one was passing out beer to first years. Not that I’d put it past Jake to do something like that, but… He does take his soccer career pretty seriously. I don’t think he’d want to risk wrecking his whole future by getting caught. And the other Jake didn’t deny it. Then they left.” I lead Ollie in the direction the two Jakes walked, down the path and into the empty athletic building. We enter through the front door and start down the main hallway.

  I hear a faint banging sound coming from the other end of the hall. My eyes flash to Ollie’s.

  “Did you hear that?” he asks. We sprint toward the noise. It’s followed up by a feeble voice that sounds muffled, like it’s coming from far away.

  “Help! Get me out of here!” the voice shouts. “This is not okay!”

  I notice the janitor’s closet a few feet away. “Someone’s locked in there,” I tell Ollie. We run to the door, undo the dead bolt that’s pulled neatly across it, and wrench the door open. There, huddled on the floor of the cramped closet, head in his hands, is Jake. Pajama Jake.

  “Thank God,” he says, leaping to his feet. “I’ve been in here for hours. Took you long enough to find me!” he barks, stretching out his legs and making a beeline for the door.

  “Wait,” I say, blocking his path. “Not so fast. Who was that Jake look-alike you were arguing with earlier?”

  “Where are the teachers?” Ollie demands. “And what’s up with Archer and Tessa—”

  “Nothing’s ‘up’ with us,” says a dismissive voice behind us. I turn to see Tessa herself, right behind me, with Archer flanking her on her left and the other Jake—soccer Jake—on her right. Before we can demand answers, they’ve shoved us into the closet with pajama Jake, and locked the door.

  The Duplicates

  Ten minutes later, we’re pounding on the door of the janitor’s closet, screaming for someone to let us out. I’m trying to bust the door down, but it’s futile; it barely even gives. Ollie tries to pick the lock, but we know it’s probably pointless. That dead bolt on the other side isn’t budging. Meanwhile, my plum won’t work—when I try to call up Dash, he doesn’t answer. I can’t connect to the school Wi-Fi at all.

  “Same,” says Jake, showing me his own unresponsive plum. “They must have one of those black-market signal blockers,” Jake explains. “When I get out of here, those guys are toast.”

  “Hang on,” says Ollie, trying to remain calm. “First things first. Who were those kids? They aren’t Tessa and Archer. And obviously, if you’re really you, then who is that other guy?”

  Jake sighs, leaning back against the wall and kicking off his expensive designer loafers. “I met them yesterday, right before the dance. Someone helped them breeze right onto campus. Directed them straight to the ball.”

  I feel a sick twisting in my stomach. That person was me. I mentioned the masquerade ball when they were coming up the path to Darkwood. I told them because I was sure they were who they said they were. Who they seemed to be. And then I buzzed them through the gate, let them walk in right behind me…

  “When I found out there was this other Jake clone walking around—and not Jago,” Jake clarifies, “but this other kid who wanted to have fun and pretend to be me for the weekend…” He shrugs. “I thought it was hilarious. And harmless. Maybe if I let him crash with me, have some fun as me for a bit, I’d be able to convince him to go to my classes on Monday. So I could sleep in. You know, goof off for a change.”

  “So you realized these kids were clones,” I say, incredulous, “and that they were planning on impersonating you, and two of your best friends, and your first thought was to use the whole situation to be incredibly lazy?”

  “I didn’t know what they were planning to do!” Jake insists.

  “So that goat was not your idea?” Ollie asks.

  “Of course not. That goat was idiotic. I told him so,” Jake says, defending himself. “I also told him he wasn’t going to my soccer practice for me, but he didn’t listen. And then he went and locked me in here!”

  “Do you know where the teachers are?” Ollie presses.

  “The teachers? No, why?” Jake looks genuinely perplexed.

  “They’re all gone,” I explain. “Which is why there’s a giant, raucous party happening down by the lake. And why Tessa—or whoever she is—announced that, as the oldest person on campus, she’d be taking over.”

  “Where did they come from?” Ollie asks, folding one leg up and leaning his elbow on it. “Did they say? What else did they tell you?”

  “Not much,” Jake admits.

  “And you didn’t ask them?” I pound on the door in frustration, then turn back to Jake. “You didn’t question why they were here, or who created them?”

  “Does it matter?” Jake answers.

  “Of course it matters! We’d know what they want.”

  “Isn’t it obvious? They want to mess with us. With our lives.”

  I kick at the door, and Ollie grabs me by the arm. “You’re gonna break your foot. That door’s solid steel. Pru and the others will find us. We have to sit tight.”

  I let him pull me back down to the floor, where we spend the next couple of hours speculating about where the clones came from. Predictably, Jake’s not helpful and repeatedly expresses his annoyance that he’s missing out on the one night at Darkwood with no teachers—and a rager on the shore of Dark Lake. Eventually, I fall asleep with my head on Ollie’s shoulder.

  • • •

  I wake up to the sound of the dead bolt on the other side of the door being slipped off. I have no idea what time it is and am momentarily flummoxed to find that I’ve been asleep this whole time, leaning on Ollie. Light filters in, and I rub my eyes, seeing Pru, Maude, Theodora, and Pippa standing framed in the doorway.

  “What time is it?” I ask.

  “Eight o’clock. Sunday morning,” Pippa explains, holding out a hand and leading me from the janitor’s closet. My legs are aching, I have to pee like crazy, and all I want to do is brush my teeth.

  Ollie follows quickly behind me, as does Jake, looking ready to murder someone. He doesn’t even thank Pru and the others.

  “Where are they?” he growls.

  “We aren’t sure,” Pru answers honestly, shooting a look at me and Ollie. “The whole campus was up till four in the morning.”

  “And the teachers?” I ask, as we all briskly make our way out of the athletic b
uilding, having stopped only to use the restroom on our way. Jake’s already taken off, presumably to find the clones himself.

  “Still no idea,” Theodora answers. “But I have news, about Tessa.”

  “Yes?” My heart’s pounding out of my chest as we make our way outside, where the campus lawn is littered with students—some sunbathing in bikinis, others playing Frisbee and bocce ball. Music is blasting, and a couple of kids are floating on giant unicorn- and flamingo-shaped rafts in Dark Lake.

  “We reached her. At Creekside,” Theodora explains. “She’s on her way here. She’s a little…”

  “Mad,” Pippa supplies.

  I feel my heart sink.

  “Who are they?” I ask Pru and my friends, as we hurry to the dining hall to snag some breakfast. The last thing I’m thinking about is food, but my stomach reminds me with a rumble that I’m starving.

  “DNA copies,” Maude says, stating the obvious. “The real question is: Is this our guardian’s doing? And why—”

  Maude is interrupted by the sound of the fire alarm blaring. “This is not a drill,” an automated voice booms out. “There is a fire on the premises. I repeat: there is a fire on the premises. Immediately move to all exits and vacate all buildings. Immediately move to all exits and vacate all buildings.”

  I manage to grab a bagel before we turn back to the double doors of the dining hall, which is now a bottleneck of kids yelling that we have to leave. Students are shoving each other out the door, some shouting. A first year’s crying, saying she barely escaped a fire when she was ten. Another girl grabs her by the arm and pulls her bodily out the door.

  Once we’re outside, the alarm continues to blare. Kids stream out of the main house and every dorm, all convening on the grassy lawn by the circular drive. I’m scanning the grounds for any sign of our teachers and spot Tessa not far off—or Tessa’s look-alike, I guess I should say. She’s sprinting across the lawn, wearing only that purple bra from yesterday and underwear, and grasping her clothes in one hand and a fire extinguisher in the other. Why isn’t she dressed? Was she hooking up with Henry Blackstone again? She’s yelling something—I’m not sure what, or who it’s directed at. No one notices her at first, but once they do, everyone stops their conversations to watch her run across the lawn.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Ollie says, his eyes glued to this Tessa impersonator. So are mine.

  That’s when Jake runs past. Our Jake. He’s wearing the pajamas he had on all night in the janitor’s closet. And he is pissed.

  “What’s happening?” I yell at him, but he runs right past me, his eyes still on Tessa as he chases her across the lawn.

  “My clone set fire to one of the dorms, that’s what happened!” Jake shouts back. I run to catch up to him, with Ollie on my heels.

  “How?” I yell over the blare of the fire alarm.

  “With a lit joint,” Jake practically snarls as he finally catches up to Tessa, grabbing her and pulling her to the ground. That’s when Jake—impersonator Jake—shows up, jumping on top of his original. The two Jakes begin to wrestle each other on the grass, with the entire school watching, including Jago, who has surfaced and is standing next to me and the other Similars.

  “Holy crap,” is all Jago can utter. I scan the dorms for signs of smoke. I don’t see any. The Jakes are still fighting each other on the lawn. Archer runs up to help Tessa to her feet—she’s frantically throwing on her clothes—and he tries to stop the fight between the Jakes, but to no avail. They’re still going at each other, with no intention of stopping.

  I never thought I’d be happy to see Principal Fleischer, but when she emerges, stumbling onto the grass and looking furious, I’m relieved. Following her are three other teachers who look dazed and zoned-out. From the other direction, five more teachers emerge, several in their pajamas and two wearing robes.

  “Attention!” Fleischer yells over the blare of the fire alarm. “Attention!”

  The fire alarm stops. The ensuing silence is almost shocking, after all that noise and commotion. Even the Jakes stop fighting each other and lie back on the grass, spent.

  “I’ve just been alerted by the system that the fire has been extinguished. The damage to the dormitory was minimal,” Fleischer says, livid. “However,” she adds, “someone drugged every single teacher at this school. Repeatedly. Which is why we’ve been asleep for more than a day, oblivious to the complete and utter mayhem that has transpired in our absence. It goes without saying that this kind of behavior will not be tolerated, and that whoever was responsible for that fire, and for administering injectives to Darkwood’s faculty, will be fully and uncompromisingly punished. In the meantime, return to your dorm rooms, and do not leave them for the next three hours, until lunch. If it were up solely to me, I’d keep you there all day. But the board feels you are entitled to meals.” With those last words, Fleischer turns to the other teachers, speaking sternly with them while the student body dissects everything that just happened, from the dance on Friday up until now.

  Moments later, I notice three men walking across the grassy lawn, and the crowd parts for them as they approach the Jake, Tessa, and Archer look-alikes. They wear uniforms, though I can’t place what kind; they appear vaguely official, like guards. But whoever the men are, and wherever they came from, the three clones stop what they’re doing as soon as they notice the guards. All three of them stiffen. The Tessa double shoots the Archer clone a look, and he shrugs. Then Tessa’s clone looks like she’s considering something. Thinking about what to do. In a split-second decision, she takes off, running across the grass, still only half-dressed, until she trips in her bare feet over a rock, stumbling. One of the guards is on her tail and closes his hand around her upper arm, grabbing her. A second guard approaches the Archer look-alike, who isn’t running but, rather, has shoved his hands in his pockets, resigned to the fact that he’s been caught. The third guard pulls the imposter Jake up from the ground and appears, from his body language and stern expression, to be lecturing him. Or giving him a warning.

  “What did I say about returning to your dorms?” Fleischer’s voice booms out. Nearly everyone around me starts to gather up their backpacks and hustle, in a mass exodus, including Pru and the Similars. But I don’t move. I’m enthralled by what’s transpiring in front of me. These three clones are being reprimanded by guards who’ve only just shown up on campus. Who are these men? And how are they connected to these copies of Tessa, Archer, and Jake? Principal Fleischer must have the same questions, because I watch her charging toward the guards, confronting the one who’s hustling the Jake clone across the grass. She and the guard get into a discussion that looks heated, and I assume she’s questioning who he is and why he’s here—and how he has the jurisdiction to handle Tessa, Jake, and Archer like this. Because she likely doesn’t know they aren’t themselves, does she? After all, she’s been asleep, drugged in her room for the last twenty-four hours. Then the guard shows her something on his phone. I wish I could see what it is, because after reading it, her expression morphs from outrage to resignation. She makes a gesture that looks, from my vantage point, like “go ahead.”

  “Em?” Ollie asks me. “We should probably listen to Fleischer or risk a decade in duty.”

  “You go if you want,” I tell him, not taking my eyes off the guards.

  “I’ll wait,” Ollie says. “Someone needs to make sure you don’t do anything reckless.”

  I can’t even acknowledge his joke; I’m riveted to the action in front of me. The guard holding the Tessa clone by the arm marches her right past me, and before I’m even conscious of what I’m doing, I reach out and grab this Tessa girl by the hand, nearly tripping her.

  “Who are you?” I ask her. “Where did you come from?”

  The Tessa clone looks at me with wide eyes. Her stare rattles me. She’s not Tessa; no, now I see she’s nothing like her original, who’s bee
n through so much, and done so much, good and bad. This girl’s not like Theodora, either. There’s something naive about the way she looks at me. Something hollow.

  “I’m Tessa,” she says, her voice emotionless. “Tessa Leroy.”

  “Let’s go,” the guard says. “Car’s waiting to take you back.”

  “Back where?” I ask, hurrying alongside them, with Ollie next to me. They start to move toward a black stretch SUV with dark, tinted windows idling in the circular drive. In all the mayhem of the fire alarm, I hadn’t noticed it.

  Neither the guard nor the Tessa clone answers me. Frustrated, I’m about to demand answers when I spy an article of clothing on the ground—Tessa’s jacket. She was carrying it, still not fully dressed, and in all the chaos, she must have dropped it on the grass. I reach down and grab it. It’s that purple bomber jacket she had on yesterday. I check the tag—H&M, size 6—and notice that a name tag has been sewn inside next to the manufacturer’s. It says only one word: “Duplicate.” And next to that, some numbers: 001.05.

  Duplicate? What on earth does that mean? And those numbers…

  “What’s a Duplicate?” I ask the Tessa clone as the guard shoves her toward the SUV. She shrugs, looking me in the eyes. “How would I know?” I sense something in her look now besides emptiness. There’s a kind of hopelessness there too.

  I spot the other two guards bringing the Archer and Jake clones around to the waiting car. They’re handling their charges roughly; the Jake clone’s arms are pinned behind his back, and the Archer clone is yanked into the back seat. The guard holding the Tessa clone opens the back door of the SUV and is about to shove her inside when she bites his hand, hard. He winces, letting go of her. She starts to bolt, but he pulls a syringe from his pocket and stabs her in the arm with it. In moments, she goes limp. He catches her before she falls, carrying her to the car and resting her inside.

  I’m following all this, still holding the jacket, when I notice a man in the last row of the SUV. He leans forward to help the guard settle the unconscious Tessa clone into the car.