Her Evil Twin

by Mimi McCoy

  “So can you tell me why you might be hanging around Jessamyn’s locker when you don’t have a reason to be there?”

  Worry began to creep back in. Was this some kind of setup? Anna wondered. Was Jessamyn getting her back for their argument this morning? “My friend’s locker is near Jessamyn’s. I was waiting for her.”

  “Oh?” The dean’s eyebrows arched. “What’s your friend’s name?”

  “Emma,” said Anna. “Emma Diablo.”

  The dean made a note on a pad on her desk. Then she set the pen down and gave Anna a long look. “Anna, we take theft in this school very seriously. We get the police involved if we have to.”

  She thinks I did it! Anna realized with dismay. Whatever Jessamyn had told the dean had convinced her that Anna was the thief. For a moment, Anna’s rage at this injustice overcame her worry. She could feel her face turning red.

  The dean’s eyes narrowed. “For the last time, are you sure you don’t know anything about Jessamyn’s wallet?”

  Anna pressed her lips together and shook her head. As she did, an image flashed through her mind: a little pink wallet with a ladybug charm. Emma’s wallet.

  No, Anna thought, as the truth dawned on her. Emma wouldn’t have a wallet like that. But Jessamyn would.

  Something must have showed on her face, because the dean leaned forward. “Anna? Is there something you want to tell me?”

  Anna shook her head again. At that moment, all she wanted was to get out of there and find Emma. She had to ask her what was going on.

  Ms. Turk sighed. “Anna, you realize I’m going to have to search your locker.”

  “What? Now?” Anna blurted. She didn’t have time for this. She had to find Emma!

  “Yes, now,” the dean said sternly. “Come with me, young lady.”

  As the dean marched her down the hall, Anna felt as if her feet were moving in slow motion. But her mind was churning.

  It can’t be true. Emma wouldn’t have stolen anything, she told herself. She breaks the rules sometimes, but she would never actually steal.

  But she did steal, said another voice in Anna’s mind. She stole those cans of paint from the art room. And dining and ditching — that was stealing, too.

  Come to think of it, Anna had never seen Emma pay for anything. Even when she brought chips and candy for lunch, she pulled them out of her pockets, not from a bag like anyone else would have.

  Anna suddenly felt certain that Emma was in big trouble. Was there some way she could warn her? Frantically, she tried to remember what class Emma was in — Spanish, PE? She realized she didn’t know Emma’s schedule at all.

  They had arrived at Anna’s locker. “Go ahead,” Ms. Turk ordered. “Open it.”

  Anna slowly spun the combination. The bell is going to ring soon, she told herself. Then school will be out for the day. I’ll find Emma right after school.

  These were the thoughts that were going through Anna’s mind as she swung open her locker door. At once, she forgot everything she’d been thinking.

  There, on the top shelf of her locker, was the pink wallet with the ladybug charm. Anna noticed a detail that she’d missed when the wallet had been in Emma’s hand — a name stitched across the flap in white thread: Jessamyn.

  Chapter Eleven

  Anna stared at the wallet, hardly able to believe her eyes. “I — I didn’t take it!” she stuttered. “She must have put it there.”

  Ms. Turk’s face was grim. “I very much doubt that Jessamyn broke into your locker to leave her wallet there.”

  Anna hadn’t meant Jessamyn, of course. But why would Emma do it? she wondered. Emma was her friend.

  “You’re in very big trouble, young lady.” Ms. Turk grabbed the wallet with one hand and Anna with the other. Her grip was surprisingly strong. It felt like a steel clamp on Anna’s shoulder.

  As the dean dragged Anna back to her office, the final bell jangled overhead. All up and down the hall, classroom doors popped open, and students spilled out into the hall. When they saw the dean and Anna coming, they got out of the way, like the sea parting. Anna was aware of kids staring at her as she passed. At one point she caught a glimpse of Dory, her eyes goggling at Anna from behind her thick glasses.

  “It’s a mistake, Ms. Turk,” Anna kept pleading. “If you’ll just let me explain….”

  “You can do your explaining when your parents get here,” the dean replied as they entered her office.

  My parents? Anna’s heart sank. “Please don’t call them,” she begged. “I’ll tell you everything.”

  So, feeling like a traitor, she told the dean about Emma, how she’d offered to buy Anna lunch at the deli and paid for it with money from the pink wallet.

  The dean’s frown deepened. “The deli? You mean, you left school? You know you aren’t allowed to leave the school grounds during school hours.”

  Oops. Now she’d really done it. She was only digging them both in deeper.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Anna said miserably.

  “Is this the first time you’ve done this?”

  “Yes,” Anna lied.

  “All right, go ahead.” The dean nodded.

  “That’s it. Emma paid for lunch and we ate it and we came back. That’s all, I swear. I didn’t know she stole the wallet,” she added. Anna was afraid to say more until she found out what was going on.

  “And how did the wallet end up in your locker?” asked the dean.

  Anna shook her head. “I don’t know, ma’am.” That was the part that baffled her, too. She believed Emma had put it there — but why?

  “Anna, since the wallet was found in your locker, you are clearly involved. I’m going to have to call your parents. You may wait outside my office.”

  There was a small vestibule outside the dean’s office, which was empty except for two hard plastic chairs. Anna plopped down in one, a puddle of misery. As the minutes ticked by, she kept thinking of Emma and the wallet, going over and over things in her mind. Why had she left it there? When had she left it there?

  “Anna, what is going on?!” Anna’s mother stood in the doorway. The collar of her coat was rolled under on one side, and her hair was sticking out in every direction. She had clearly come as quickly as she could.

  As soon as Anna saw her, the tears that had been lurking behind her eyes spilled over. “I didn’t do it, Mom!”

  “Didn’t do what? Tell me what happened.” Mrs. Dipalo sat down in the other chair and listened as Anna briefly explained what had happened. She felt like she was betraying Emma. But what choice did she have?

  To Anna’s astonishment, her mother didn’t seem angry, only concerned. “We’ll get this straightened out, sweetie,” she said, patting Anna’s knee. “The dean will talk to Emma and her parents, and everything will get straightened out.”

  Even if we do, Anna thought, Emma will never be my friend again.

  For a while they sat in silence, waiting for the dean. Anna leaned forward, with her elbows on her knees, staring at an old stain on the dingy gray carpet. Her mother sat with her head tipped back, staring into space.

  “Emma,” she murmured. Her eyes were distant, as if she was remembering something. “The girl with silver eyes.”

  Anna’s head snapped up. “What did you say?”

  Her mother glanced over at her. “Oh, nothing. I was just remembering something you used to say when you were little, about your imaginary friend, Emma. Once I asked you what she looked like, and you told me, ‘Mommy, she has silver eyes.’ I always remembered that, because I thought it was so funny.” Mrs. Dipalo shook her head. “I don’t know why I’m thinking about this now.”

  At that moment, the door to the dean’s office opened. Anna’s mother stood up quickly. “Hello,” she said. “I’m Anna’s mother,” she said.

  “Mrs. Dipalo, thank you for coming,” the dean replied. “As you’ve heard, Anna has run into some trouble.”

  “Anna was just telling me about it,” said her mother. “And what ab
out the other girl, Emma? Were you able to get in touch with her parents?”

  The dean was silent for a moment. “Mrs. Dipalo, have you ever met Emma?”

  “No, I haven’t yet. But Anna has told me a little about her. Why?”

  The dean’s eyes flicked to Anna. “I’ve just been checking our records. There is no Emma Diablo. We’ve never had a student by that name.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “That’s not true!” Anna blurted out, stunned. What was going on? Was this some kind of trick? “I know Emma goes to school here,” she told the dean. “I see her here every day.”

  The dean folded her arms across her chest, her nostrils pinching as she drew in a long breath. “Anna,” she said in a flinty voice, “I think it’s time you start telling the truth.”

  “I am telling the truth. Emma took the wallet. She’s the one you need to talk to.” Anna turned to her mother. “Mom, you believe me, right?”

  Her mother looked back and forth between Anna and the dean, clearly confused. “Perhaps there’s been some kind of mistake?” she ventured hesitantly. “Could Emma possibly go by another name in her records?”

  “I’ve checked our entire database,” Ms. Turk replied. “We have no students with the last name Diablo.”

  “Well, maybe I got her last name wrong,” Anna said, though she knew she hadn’t. She clearly remembered Emma’s words on the day they’d met. Diablo, ’cause I’m devilish. Had Emma lied about her name?

  “Do you know anything else about Emma?” her mother prompted. “Her parents’ names? Where she lives?”

  Anna shook her head, realizing how foolish she appeared. How could she not know where her best friend lived? And why hadn’t it ever occurred to her to ask?

  “Her phone number?” Ms. Turk added in a tone that made it clear she didn’t expect much from Anna.

  But Anna brightened. “I know her cell number. And her locker is on the first floor west hallway. Number two thirty-five. Or — or maybe it’s two thirty-six,” she added, remembering her confusion that morning.

  Ms. Turk picked up her phone and pressed the line to the school secretary. “Ellen,” she said, “will you please look up the students assigned to these locker numbers?” She gave the numbers Anna had mentioned.

  As she set the phone down, Anna felt a pang of guilt. She didn’t want to get her friend in trouble — but she didn’t want to take the blame for something she hadn’t done, either. She hoped Emma would understand.

  But she never had the chance to find out. Neither of the numbers Anna gave the dean checked out. Lockers 235 and 236 were assigned to two eighth grade boys. Emma’s cell phone number led only to a message saying the number was not in service.

  Anna listened to each call with a growing sense of helplessness. She didn’t understand what was going on. But whatever it was, she was starting to realize she was in it alone.

  Ms. Turk hung up the phone and leaned back in her chair. “Now,” she said, gazing sternly at Anna, “are you going to tell us the truth?”

  The next hour went by in a blur. No matter how much Anna swore she was innocent, the dean refused to believe her. The School Resource Officer was called in, and they decided Anna would be given a week of in-school suspension. Throughout the discussion, Anna’s mother kept nodding and saying things like, “Yes, we understand,” and “Of course, Ms. Turk,” and at some point Anna realized her mom was no longer on her side. She wouldn’t even look at Anna.

  After that they made Anna step out of the office, while the dean and her mother spoke to the school counselor. Anna could only guess what they were saying about her.

  By the time they left the school, she felt exhausted. The rain had finally let up, but dark clouds still blanketed the sky, and the air had turned colder. As they hurried toward her mother’s car, a raw, icy wind whipped Anna’s face, as if even the weather had turned against her.

  “Mom,” Anna tried one last time once they were driving, “I know Ms. Turk doesn’t believe me, but I swear I didn’t steal anything. It was Emma —”

  “Oh, Anna.” Her mother turned to her with such a look of dismay that Anna’s mouth snapped shut. They rode the rest of the way home in silence.

  At home, Anna climbed the stairs to her room and lay down on her bed. She stared up at the ceiling. Her father would be home soon, and she dreaded having to tell him what had happened that day. He would be crushed to find out that his daughter was a thief.

  But I’m not a thief, Anna reminded herself. She went through the day’s events for what seemed like the hundredth time: Emma’s mysterious comment, the strange appearance of Jessamyn’s wallet in her locker, the phone and locker numbers that didn’t check out …

  Where is Emma? Anna wondered. Why didn’t they have a record of her at school? And, more importantly, had Emma known what was going to happen? Was she trying to set Anna up? But why?

  Somewhere behind the questions crowding her brain there was a steady rhythm at the back of her mind. Anna suddenly realized that she was repeating a number over and over again to herself. Nine-four-nine-oh-six-one-five. It was Emma’s phone number. An unusual number, Anna thought. Most numbers in their area started with five. And yet to Anna it was oddly familiar.

  Abruptly, she sat up and got a piece of paper from her desk. It wasn’t until she wrote the number down that she realized why it was familiar: it was her own phone number, backward.

  Anna felt a cold pit at the bottom of her stomach. She knew it couldn’t be coincidence. But Emma had given Anna her number first — not the other way around. How could Emma have known Anna’s number before they’d even met?

  Something else was bothering Anna. Emma, the girl with the silver eyes, her mother had said. Your imaginary friend.

  Anna was certain she’d never described Emma to her parents. Could her mother have seen Emma somewhere? But then why bring up her imaginary friend?

  A horrible possibility was starting to form in Anna’s mind. Was Emma … could she be … imaginary?

  “No! That’s insane,” Anna said aloud. If Emma was imaginary, that meant she didn’t really exist. And Emma most certainly existed. Anna thought of all the things they’d done together — climbing up to the school roof, throwing ketchup bombs on the Jackals, skipping school, eating lunch at the diner. Anna would never have done those things alone; they wouldn’t have even occurred to her.

  Besides, she knew Emma was real. Anna had grasped her hand. She had braided her hair. And, if Anna needed any more proof, it was right there on her pinky finger.

  Anna stared at the friendship ring Emma had given her. But you’ve always had that ring, said a little voice in her head. Remember? You’ve had it since you were a little girl.

  Anna ran her hands through her hair. I can’t believe I’m even thinking this, she told herself. Emma is just a regular girl who goes to Wilson. That idiot dean might not know her, but plenty of other people do. Like the kids in her classes, like … like …

  Try as she might, Anna couldn’t come up with a single name. She realized she’d never seen Emma talking to anyone else at school. Every time Anna had encountered her — in the hallway, in the bathroom, on the roof — she had always been alone, always waiting for Anna.

  As if, Anna thought with growing alarm, she existed for me.

  “This is crazy. This is crazy. This is crazy.” Anna leaped up from her bed and began to pace around her room. Her eyes fell on the cork bulletin board next to her desk. It was covered with photos of her and Dory. Anna was so used to the pictures that even after they’d stopped being friends, she’d never thought to take them down. Now she found herself staring at years and years of snapshots: Anna and Dory as little girls, having a tea party in Anna’s backyard; the two of them in party hats, blowing out the candles on Anna’s birthday cake; as kindergarteners, dressed as black cats for Halloween; in sixth grade, wearing sunglasses and mugging for the camera …

  All I need is a photo of Emma to prove that she’s real, Anna thought. But
she didn’t have one. Why didn’t she have one? Normal friends had pictures of each other!

  At the bottom of the corkboard, Anna had tacked up an old drawing of her and Dory. Two stick figures with a rainbow arching over their heads. Anna had drawn the picture in first grade. In one corner of the page, in clumsy, childish handwriting, she had written beSt frenDS.

  Staring at the old picture gave Anna an idea. It was an absurd, ridiculous idea. But, Anna thought in desperation, I have to know.

  She opened the door to her bedroom and crept downstairs. The house seemed cold and dark. For the first time in Anna’s memory, there were no comforting dinnertime smells coming from the kitchen. This was one day that wouldn’t be fixed by a hot meal.

  Anna heard voices in the living room and realized her father was home. She’d been so wrapped up in her thoughts she hadn’t heard him come in. She tiptoed closer and paused just outside the living room, listening.

  “The school counselor believes she may have a conduct disorder,” her mother was saying.

  “What does that mean, exactly? A conduct disorder?” Anna’s father asked.

  “It’s considered an early sign of criminal behavior.” Her mother’s voice was strained. “The counselor said that if she continues with these sorts of problems, it’s likely she’ll be expelled. She could end up in juvenile detention.” Mrs. Dipalo was silent for a moment. “The counselor said children with conduct disorders can grow up to be sociopaths.” On the last word her voice cracked. Anna could tell that she was crying.

  A sociopath? Like a crazy person? Anna didn’t want to hear any more. She moved past the living room, down the hall to the small room that served as both an office and an extra bedroom. It contained a desk, a daybed, and an old bureau.

  The bottom drawer of the bureau contained a treasure trove of Anna’s old things: finger paintings, ribbons from school fairs, reports with gold stars pasted at the top. Anna dug through messy collages encrusted with glitter and dried macaroni, pictures made from pipe cleaners, and a handmade card with the message Hapy Muthers day. I luv you mom!