Faking Delinquency [SAMPLE, PUBLISHED]

P h a s e 2 : Looking the Part

“You’re doing it again.”

I huffed, bringing a hand indignantly through my hair.  In a span of ten minutes I’d heard that line over twenty times—no exaggerations.  I couldn’t seem to do anything right.  I tilted my head to the side as I played with my hair.  It wasn’t in the usual style that I preferred—down, maybe a braid.  No, it was put back into a simple ponytail, my brunette hair tied back from my face except for two strips of hair curling down the sides of my head.  I felt different with my hair like this, like I was someone else.  But that made sense.  Because, you know, I was supposed to be someone else.

I was supposed to be Arabelle.

“You know,” I drawled, spinning around and flicking my wrist defiantly in her direction, “if you didn’t tick people off so much we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

Arabelle smiled brightly and placed her hands on her hips.  She looked so triumphant as she stood beside me, like she could conquer the world.  Well, that made one of us.  “There, that sounded more like me,” she said with a nod.  “Now keep that up for the next hour and we can be done.”

I scowled.  Why did I agree to this ridiculous plan?  Why did I have to let Arabelle manipulate me like this?  Sure, we were twins and all, but that didn’t mean I had to help her with everything—especially when it was her fault she was in this mess in the first place.

But, sadly, our super-weird-twin-sister-bond said otherwise.

“Why can’t you just dump Danny and we can both be happy for the rest of our lives?” I suggested, trying to pull an Arabelle by jutting my hip out.  I pursed my lips just for show.  All this felt so foreign.  I wanted to laugh so damn hard.  How could Arabelle act like this all the time and not laugh at herself?

“Because,” Arabelle muttered, bringing a hand through her hair, “I like Danny.  So I wouldn’t be happy if I dumped him.”

I rolled my eyes.  Arabelle may have looked like me with her big brown eyes and her wavy locks of light brown hair and tan skin, but she was almost the complete opposite of me.  I, for one, didn’t find pleasure in ticking of the entire world’s population, nor did I make our dad so mad that he banished me to a fugitive camp for the summer.  And I definitely didn’t date guys who were obviously trash but got blind-sided for whatever stupid reason.  Arabelle, on the other hand, did. 

“What do you see in him anyway?” I demanded.  “He treats you like crap, and he bent a page of my book!”

Arabelle cocked an eyebrow.  “What book?”

“Nevermore,” I replied, my anger seeping into my voice.  “Which happens to be my favorite book, by the way.”

Arabelle smiled, standing up from my bed and patting my shoulder.  “You’re getting better!” she sang, stretching her arms out.

I threw my arms in the air.  “I can’t do this, Belle!” I shrieked in dismay.  I fell back on my bed, closing my eyes.  “I can’t act like you without wanting to laugh every two seconds.  This isn’t me.”

Arabelle fell back on the bed too, squishing herself against me.  I couldn’t help but smile at her.  She was so mean, so vile to almost everyone else.  But she was nice to me.  Maybe that was why I couldn’t bring myself to have an attitude or to snap and be snarky all the time.  Because I saw her as a nice person.

“You’ll get used to it,” she teased, punching my arm lightly.  “I’m a very fun person to be.”

“Ah,” I said, my eyebrows rising.  “Sure you are.”