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Looking over my shoulder, I glare at her. “Not every single senior, no, but I’d sure as shit know if there was a set of identical twins. That’s not something that goes unnoticed.”
“Oh, for god’s sake, Gulliver!” Penelope snaps, her holier-than-thou tone instantly pissing me off. “I have a twin sister. It’s not some big conspiracy. We’re both students at GAA, but my sister is a loner. She doesn’t have friends and chooses not to attend social events. That’s hardly a crime. I’m sorry she came to your house on Friday. She insisted, and honestly, I just didn’t want to be rude and cancel. It’s the first time we’ve ever done it, and I promise it won’t happen again.” Turning, Penelope addresses her sister for the first time. “Izabella, you can run back upstairs. You look positively terrified, and I’m sure Gulliver isn’t that much of a brute that he can possibly want to interrogate you just for being a weirdo recluse.”
As if she‘s a servant being dismissed, Izabella climbs up from her seat and turns to leave. Before I can question what I’m doing, I step in front of her. “Goodbye, Izabella.”
“Goodbye, Gulliver,” she says, holding my gaze for a second too long.
Reluctantly, I step aside to let her go. I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much that she’s leaving, but I don’t have any reason to force her to stay. Sighing, I twist around and watch as she gracefully pads across the room, unable to look away until the door closes behind her.
It takes me a moment to turn back around, and when I do, I’m startled by the sight of Penelope and her mother sitting calmly side by side on the couch. Penelope looks so much like her sister that it feels like a trick for her to be here when I just watched her go. But despite how alike they look, it almost feels too easy to tell them apart. Nothing about Penelope is appealing to me, yet Izabella is like a siren luring me in.
Neither Penelope nor Trudy look even slightly affected by anything that’s been revealed today and that only makes me more suspicious. The Rhodeses have two daughters, yet I’m confident that no one knows. What the hell is going on? It seems clear to me that they’ve deliberately kept Izabella a secret, but is it because, like they said, she simply likes to keep to herself, or is it something more?
“I should be getting home,” I announce.
“Why don’t you stay for dinner?” Trudy coaxes in a Mrs. Robinson style, seductive voice.
“No, thank you,” I say, trying to sound polite, but really just needing to get the hell out of this house and away from the grimy feeling that settled over me when I saw how terrified Izabella was to be here.
“Let me call Mark, and he can drive you home if you’re sure you can’t stay,” Mrs. Rhodes offers, rising from her chair and smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt.
“That’s okay. I texted my driver on the way here. He’s waiting outside for me,” I say, already moving toward the door.
The click of heels and the cloying scent of vanilla engulfs me at the same time Penelope wraps herself around me and presses her lips to my ear. “I know what you said to my sister on Friday, what you asked her to do. We could go up to my room and I could show you what you wanted,” she purrs, her hand sliding seductively down my chest toward my dick.
A surprised laugh falls from my lips. “Did she tell you that I called you a whore and told her that I’d never marry you, no matter how pretty and untouched your cunt might be? Jesus, what else do I have to do to make you understand? I’m not interested, Penelope, and I never fucking will be.” Prying her hands off me, I move her to the side, ignoring her shriek of outrage and leave, letting myself out of the front door.
9
IZABELLA
Anxiety and terrified nervous energy thrums through my veins like Pop Rocks as I sit in my room and wait for the fallout from everything that’s happened today. Our secret is out because of me. I’ve been upstairs for over an hour now, and I know Gulliver left a while ago because I watched him stride down the front steps and climb into a town car.
I don’t understand why they haven’t come upstairs to scream or shout or punish me yet. I actually think this fearful waiting might be worse than the accusations, implied guilt, recriminations, and shaming that I’m expecting. But everything is too calm, too quiet.
Maybe they managed to convince Gulliver that it’s not a big deal. All he knows is that there are two of us and that I’m basically a recluse. He has no idea that I’m helping my sister cheat at school so that she can maintain her grade point average. Knowing Penelope has an identical twin might have been a shock, but it’s not life-altering.
Some of the fear and tension dissolve, and I let my shoulders relax a little. Gulliver knowing that I exist, isn’t the end of the world. In fact, maybe it could be a good thing—a secret between him and my sister that will allow them to connect over a shared confidence.
Relaxing a little more, I pull my homework from my backpack and settle down at my desk to start it. None of it is due for a few days, but I need to be up to date on my own work because, despite my moment of rebellion today, I know there’s no way I’ll be brave enough to ignore Penelope the next time she needs me to attend her classes for her.
I lose track of time as I busy my mind with algebra and iambic pentameter, until a knock at the door startles me, causing me to jolt and knock my notepad to the floor.
“Come in,” I call, expecting Mrs. Humphries to appear, but instead my mother steps into the room, her expression unreadable.
Slowly rising from my chair, I take a step away from my desk and swallow thickly.
“Would you like to explain how it is that Gulliver Winslow came to follow you home this afternoon?” she asks, her voice so calm and cordial that goose bumps pebble over my arms.
“I…I…” I stammer. “I was walking through school to meet Mark, and Gulliver came up behind me. He knew I wasn’t Penelope, and I just…” I trail off, unwilling to admit that I was shouting my own name out, to remind myself that I still existed.
“How did he know you weren’t your sister?” she asks coolly.
“I don’t know. He just knew. He said I moved differently, and I didn’t know what to say,” I blurt, the words falling from my mouth in a rush.
Her expression softens, and for a moment, I see a glimpse of the woman who’d bring me dolls from her trips and coo over how beautiful I looked in pretty dresses when I was a kid. But it’s gone almost as quickly, a coldness hardening her features. “You won’t speak to him again; you won’t make people aware of your presence at GAA. Nothing changes, do you understand?”
Nodding, I clamp my lips together to stop myself from speaking.
