The Similars

by Rebecca Hanover

  It’s the same with Pippa. She shares Pru’s DNA, after all. Surely she can’t be dangerous, I think, as I sit next to her, not taking off my coat. I’m shivering. I take in a sharp breath when Levi enters the room followed by Theodora and Maude. He doesn’t meet my eyes as he sits between his fellow clones. The others arrive, all except Tessa. I wonder if she’ll show, if anyone’s seen her since the news about her father. Madison shuts the door. The click of the lock makes me jump.

  “Welcome to the fifth midnight session of the school year,” says Madison. I tune out her voice as I stare at Levi’s arm that was bleeding only thirty minutes ago. I want there to be some explanation that doesn’t scare the living daylights out of me, but I can’t find it. My heart pounds, urging me to do something, anything. After all, the Similars are plotting to hurt the originals’ families. Levi practically admitted it. How far will they go to get what they want?

  There’s a rapping at the door. We all watch as Madison walks over and opens it with her key. Tessa stands in the threshold. She looks thinner than ever, no doubt from skipping a few meals to avoid the dining hall.

  “What did I miss?” she asks, breezing past Madison and taking a seat.

  “I was about to tell the group there’s good news,” Madison announces. She turns to us, beaming. “My mother’s been helping the National Anti-Cloning Commission push through new legislation. It’ll go into effect this month.”

  “What kind of legislation?” I ask, my voice dull as I sneak a look at Pippa. She tenses. So do the other Similars, try as they might to appear calm.

  “Good question, Emma. Too bad you weren’t at the latest DAAM meeting or you’d already know.”

  I stare at Madison. I may not be the Similars’ biggest advocate after what I’ve learned tonight, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let her steamroll me—or them.

  “Clones will be required to obtain special visas to enter this country,” Tessa declares, sounding pleased to deliver this news. I look over at her, puzzled as to how she can feel so little empathy after what happened to her father. “And parents who smuggle into the U.S. a child who’s been produced via cloning technology—even a fetus in utero—may face fines or prison time.”

  “That will never happen,” I say.

  Madison shrugs. “Most people agree that clones pose a threat to America’s core values. They’re all dangerous.”

  “That’s an incredibly broad generalization! And you’re wrong. Most people do not think that way. I don’t. I know they aren’t dangerous—”

  “Are you sure about that?” Madison presses.

  I’m not. Not after tonight. In spite of wanting to believe the Similars are well-meaning, I can’t ignore that they have come to Darkwood with an agenda. They are hiding things from us and from their DNA families. But why should that be reflective of all clones?

  “Why do you hate them so much?” I ask, ignoring the voice in my head that tells me Madison might be right to be suspicious of our newest classmates. All kinds of people scheme. Look at Madison. And she has no excuse to be so cruel. She had everything she could have wanted growing up. Loving parents. Friends, a community. Opportunities to see the world. All the things the Similars were deprived of.

  “Excuse me, Emma, but I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about.” Madison sounds so dismissive I could scream.

  “Is it because of your parents? Have they taught you to fear what you don’t understand?”

  “They’ve taught me to fear people who are a threat.”

  “Was Prudence a threat?” I snap. “Is that why you attacked her?”

  “Emma!” Pippa cries out.

  I don’t take my eyes off Madison. I assume she’s going to be furious at me, lash out. Instead, she laughs. “Prudence Stanwick isn’t even on my radar. I barely know who she is. I mean, was.”

  My blood boils. Madison turns back to her announcement, and it’s clear that in her mind this conversation’s over. Not for me, I think. I feel even more certain in my gut that she had something to do with Pru’s attack.

  When Madison finally releases us, I walk with Pippa back to our rooms in silence. I can’t take it anymore, this avoidance.

  “I saw you,” I say as we approach my door. “Tonight. In the lake. Maude and Theodora climbing that tree.”

  “I thought so,” Pippa says quietly.

  “I know about the tasks. Levi told me.”

  “Emma, I wish I could explain…”

  “But you can’t. Of course you can’t. Good night, Pippa.” From what Levi said, she’s charged with some task too, whatever it might be. I want to lash out at her for that, but there’s been enough confrontation tonight.

  I slip into my room and take a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself. But I need a distraction—anything. My eyes land on the book sitting on my desk. To Kill a Mockingbird. It’s the book Jaeger gave me when he visited and told me and Pippa about Pru’s medically induced coma. I haven’t opened it yet, but losing myself in its pages is the perfect solution. I need to escape my own head.

  I open the book to the first page and am surprised to find a note scrawled there.

  Stop looking. You won’t find her.

  It’s signed JS—Jaeger Stanwick. Pru’s father. My heart plummets to my feet.

  There’s no denying he wrote this note for me. He gave me this book, brought it all the way here and made a point of encouraging me to reread it. It’s also clear who the “her” is: Prudence.

  I glance at Jaeger’s note again. Stop looking. You won’t find her.

  Why, I want to shout, because she’s dead?

  I can’t think straight. There’s too much to process. The Similars’ physical feats. The gash on Levi’s arm. The tasks. Madison’s mom’s legislation.

  And now this.

  My heart races as I consider the implications of Jaeger’s cryptic note. He’s been ignoring my buzzes; Pippa’s too. I tuck To Kill a Mockingbird under my arm and head back into the cold night.

  There’s only one person who can help me now. It’s time to find him.

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, I arrive at Headmaster Ransom’s house on campus. I’m breaking curfew and a million other rules by being here, but that’s far from important. I ring Ransom’s bell.

  Moments later, he opens the door in his robe and slippers, looking bewildered. “Emmaline Chance,” he says. “It’s the middle of the night!”

  “I know. I can assure you, sir, this is urgent.”

  “By all means, then, come in.” Ransom gestures for me to follow him inside. “You look pale. Sit. Let me get you some water.”

  I sink onto his couch, trying to calm my racing heart, and look around. His home is cozy and sparsely decorated.

  He returns and hands me a glass. “I won’t ask why you’re out of your dorm room…” Ransom says as he settles back into a tufted leather chair, his pajama-clad legs crossed at the ankles, his house slippers in plain view.

  “I’ll get right to the point,” I say, taking a deep drink of the water to fortify myself for what I have to do. “Headmaster Ransom, sir, I received some very unsettling information tonight.” I pull out the copy of To Kill a Mockingbird and flip to the front page. “It’s a note. From Prudence’s father—Jaeger Stanwick. He told me and Pippa that Pru’s in a hospital in her hometown, in a medically induced coma. Only this message…” I hand the novel to him so he can see it. “This message would suggest otherwise. He gave me this book the day he visited. I only noticed the message tonight.”

  As Ransom takes in the note, his face sags and then hardens. “I agree, this is unsettling, Emmaline.”

  “Jaeger told us the police think someone attacked her. Can you help, sir? Do you know why Jaeger would tell me not to look for her? Do you know who might have done this to her?”

  “Oh, Emmaline, I
’m afraid the investigation is up to the authorities. You see, as headmaster, I have power over my students,” he says with a small, sad smile, “but little power when it comes to the law. Once Prudence left campus, she was no longer under my charge. I’m afraid I know as much about her condition and whereabouts as you do. As for who attacked her, perhaps I should ask you that question. After all, you were there that day at the boathouse when the incident occurred.”

  “Yes,” I respond quickly, “but I would have told you if I knew anything. I don’t. I was listening to music. Putting on primer. Levi and I were working side by side when we heard Prudence scream. When we got inside, when we found her lying in that canoe, it was too late to catch whoever hurt her. We were all alone. Though, if I may speak freely, sir…”

  “Please do.”

  “There is only one person at Darkwood who hates Prudence enough to want to hurt her.”

  Ransom raises an eyebrow. “Go on.”

  “Madison Huxley,” I say. “She’s made it clear from our first Ten meeting that she didn’t think Pru deserved to be there.”

  Ransom no longer lounges across from me. He sits at attention.

  “That’s quite an accusation, Ms. Chance. What proof do you have that Ms. Huxley is capable of committing such an egregious crime?”

  “I don’t have any, not exactly. But she missed an appointment, something about getting her blood work taken? And it was the same afternoon Prudence was attacked—”

  “Without proof, accusing Madison Huxley of such a crime would be pure speculation. Madison is the leader of the Ten. She has never acted unworthy of that role—no matter how you might feel about her,” he adds pointedly.

  “But who else would have done this to her? If this was an attempt to hurt Prudence, or worse, to kill her, then who is responsible? The only people there, at least as far as we know, were me and Levi!”

  Ransom studies me. The lines crinkling around his eyes make him look sad and burdened. “The answer may be right under your nose, Emmaline.”

  “You aren’t suggesting I did this.”

  “Obviously not. Prudence was one of your best friends.”

  It hits me like a ton of bricks. “Then Levi?”

  Ransom nods.

  “It couldn’t have been him.” I shake my head. “That doesn’t make sense. He was standing next to me the whole time.”

  “Are you sure about that?” he presses. I remind myself that I can trust Headmaster Ransom. He has no reason to suspect Levi, and all the reason in the world to prove the students he invited to Darkwood deserve our trust.

  “Absolutely,” I say, though deep down I question myself. “My plum ran out of battery just before we heard Pru scream. Otherwise I wouldn’t have even heard her,” I say, running the events of that afternoon through my mind. “Levi was right next to me when it happened. I’m sure of it because we looked at each other,” I add. “I remember when our eyes met. We were both shocked.”

  “But suppose Levi went into the boathouse, attacked Pru, then returned to your side. He could have been back beside you in an instant,” Ransom suggests.

  I shake my head. “No. Even if that’s possible, he didn’t know Prudence. Why hurt her?”

  “That’s not entirely true, Emmaline,” Ransom says. “Don’t forget he has a friend who shares Prudence’s every feature.”

  “Pippa? You think Levi attacked Prudence because of something that had to do with her Similar?”

  Ransom sighs, leaning back against his tufted chair. It squeaks from his body weight. “Is that so out of the question?”

  I tense, remembering everything I’ve learned about the clones today.

  “Sir,” I say, breathless. “Do you still trust them? The Similars, I mean?”

  Ransom studies me. If my question has ruffled him, he doesn’t let it show. “I invited them to Darkwood, didn’t I?”

  “Yes,” I say. “But…” I stop myself. Should I say this? Is it the right thing to do? “But, sir, what if I told you they are not as they first appear? They have special abilities…”

  Ransom doesn’t answer me immediately. Finally, he speaks. “Emmaline, excuse me if I’m overstepping, but would I be wrong to point out that you’ve had quite a challenging year? First Oliver’s death, then Prudence’s attack…”

  I nod.

  Ransom continues, “Let me give you some advice, if I may. Go back to your room. Get some rest. There isn’t anything you can do for Prudence that her father isn’t already doing. As for who did this to her, it is not your job to identify the perpetrator. Leave that to the police. Or to Prudence, when she wakes up from her coma, God willing.”

  I want to heed Headmaster Ransom’s advice. I want nothing more than to return to my room and sleep like my peers. I look at the empty glass in my hands. I’m suddenly so incredibly tired and so strangely calm. Ransom walks me to the front door, exhorting me to return to Cypress safely. When I get back to my room, I fall straight into bed. I sleep soundly. I don’t dream.

  The next morning, I am inexplicably lighter. My talk with Ransom has made me feel, in some way, less alone. I’m still worried about Pru and more than a little disturbed by what I’ve learned about the Similars, but having Ransom in my corner is a relief. I’m not expecting it when two police officers corner me on my way to breakfast.

  “Emmaline Chance?” asks a female officer. I recognize her from the clearing, from the day Pru was rushed to the hospital. A male cop is with her. He is silent, middle-aged, balding.

  “Yes?”

  “In light of new developments in the case, we’ve received permission from Headmaster Ransom to question you about the events of September fifteenth. The day you found Prudence Stanwick unconscious in the boathouse.”

  “You are not a suspect in the case,” the male cop reassures me. “But we’d like to get your perspective on the events of that day.”

  “To help us piece together what happened,” the female cop adds gently.

  “There’s nothing to tell,” I say, feeling my cheeks flushing with heat. “I was priming the side wall of the boathouse. Levi and I were working together when someone screamed. We ran inside and found my roommate, Prudence.”

  “We’d like to walk down to the boathouse with you,” the female cop says. “Have you take us through that afternoon, step by step. It is your right to have a parent present—”

  I stop her right there. No need to call my father. I know what I will tell them: the truth. My father being here won’t change that.

  Still, dread begins in my toes and travels up my spine. There can only be one reason they are here asking me these questions. One of us is a suspect. And if they say it’s not me, then it’s Levi.

  * * *

  Returning to the boathouse is painful. It brings back memories of that afternoon. I expected yellow police tape to circle the canoe where I found Pru’s body, but apparently the police have collected whatever evidence and photographs they needed. It is no longer a crime scene.

  Still, the officers interrogate me for nearly an hour. They ask where I was standing, where Levi was standing. What we were doing and when. Where exactly I stood when I discovered Pru. How Levi reacted. I remind them that Levi carried Prudence all the way to safety. All he wanted was to help her, I explain. And yet, when they ask me whether it’s possible that Levi could have slipped away while I was lost in thought, and—by my own admission—avoiding talking to him because of his resemblance to Oliver, I have to confess that yes, it was.

  “So you admit that you couldn’t see Levi the entire time you were painting?” asks the male cop.

  “I was looking at the wall, so no, I wasn’t looking at him the entire time.”

  “He wasn’t always in your line of sight, then?” the female cop prods.

  “I already told you. No. That doesn’t mean he had time to go and attack Prudence�
��”

  “It might not be probable. But if it’s at all possible…”

  “Then what? You’ll arrest him?” I say, my voice hot.

  “Not without proper evidence, no,” says the male cop. “Both of your fingerprints were all over this boathouse. But that’s not enough for us to go on—not yet.”

  “This has been helpful, Ms. Chance,” the female cop says with finality. “More than you know. We’ll spend a few more minutes here, but you are free to go.”

  On the walk back to campus, I can think of nothing except the police twisting my words. They weren’t interested in the truth, only in the holes they could poke in my story. It’s so frustrating, especially because I know that, based on the facts, he couldn’t have done it.

  By the time I reach the main campus, I’ve missed breakfast. I’m ragged, dragging my feet through the morning routine and my first three classes. By midday, I’m starving. I practically burst through the doors of the dining hall. I don’t care what they’re serving, I’ll eat it.

  The cafeteria is uncharacteristically silent. There’s no bustle, no gossiping. Every single student has their eyes glued to the Similars. They’re huddled at the side of the room with three police officers. Two questioned me a few hours ago, but the third I don’t recognize. I can’t tell if the officers are trying to make a show of it, but their conversation is center stage.

  “Levi Gravelle,” says the male officer who interrogated me. “New information has been brought to light in the attempted murder of Prudence Stanwick, and we have permission to escort you back to the police station for questioning.”