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With a grin, I pat Davis on the shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”
“Where are you going?”
“To collect my fiancée so we can have lunch.” I laugh.
“Good luck,” he calls to my back as I turn and hurry in the direction of her classroom.
Searching the sea of faces, I expect to find her with the other kids who have just come from trig too, but she isn’t in the hallway. If I had her cell phone number, I’d call her, but instead I find room 215 and peer around the door. I’m expecting the classroom to be empty, but instead I find Izabella still sitting in her seat halfway down the room slowly packing her stuff into her backpack.
With her attention diverted, I take a moment to watch her. It’s weird to look at her and see Penelope’s face, but despite their identical appearance, I can already see the differences between the two girls. Penelope sits up straighter, always wanting to preen, always wanting people to see her. Izabella is the complete opposite; she’s almost hiding. Her hair has fallen forward, covering her face, and she’s bent over the desk, trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible.
They’re two sides of the same coin, so similar yet so different. For a moment, I wonder how it’s possible that Izabella went unnoticed for so long, but then she looks up, and all thoughts vanish from my head.
Her violet eyes sparkle as she focuses on me, and I swear the color seems even brighter today. I’m not sure how I didn’t notice the color of her eyes during dinner on Friday, but then I deliberately didn’t look at her for long enough to notice anything.
“Are you ready?” I ask, stepping into the classroom as the teacher lifts her briefcase from the desk and leaves, not sparing us a glance.
“Ready for what?” Izabella asks, tucking a strand of hair that’s hanging in her face behind her ear.
“Lunch.”
“I’m fine, thanks,” she says politely.
“What do you mean you’re fine?” I ask, taking a step closer.
She sighs. “You’ve had your fun, Gulliver. I don’t want to play this game anymore, it’s not fun for me, and I don’t enjoy being the butt of your jokes, so go and eat and leave me alone.”
“Do you have lunch with the juniors?” I blurt, suddenly remembering that Penelope eats in the cafeteria and that I’ve never actually seen both girls in the same room until two days ago, so there’s no way Izabella can eat at the same time as her sister.
“No.” Her brow wrinkles in confusion.
“So, when do you have lunch?”
“At the same time as you.”
“But your sister goes to the cafeteria every day. She holds court with her minions, and I don’t believe that’s you pretending to be Penelope. So where do you have your lunch?”
“I bring lunch with me,” she admits quietly.
“But where do you eat it?” For some reason, finding out where she eats each day feels really important.
“In a study room in the library.”
“You eat alone?” I snap.
“I’m antisocial,” she says quietly, but it’s obviously a lie. There’s nothing antisocial about Izabella, but for some reason, she doesn’t want people to know she exists. Or maybe Penelope doesn’t want people to know her sister exists. But why? Why would it matter?
“Have you eaten alone every day since you were a freshman?” I ask, needing to know, but unsure why the answer’s important.
She shrugs. “Yeah.”
Anger fills me, and I don’t understand it, but I know I can’t let her sit on her own and eat a bagged lunch, not for one more day.
“Come on,” I snap.
“What?” she cries as I scoop her backpack from the desk and sling it over my shoulder. “Give that back,” she cries again, but I ignore her, reaching for her hand and dragging her behind me as I stomp out of the classroom.
“Gulliver, stop,” she demands.
