Twinmaker (3 page)

“It can’t be real,” said Clair, approaching the issue from a more practical angle. “It’d be illegal, for starters.”

“Absolutely,” said Ronnie. “You just can’t change patterns like that. But writing it down makes it seem real, like a spell from a fairy tale—something that
ought
to work, even though it’s impossible.”

“Nothing’s impossible,” said Libby. “Things go wrong. This afternoon my fabber mixed up my makeup—I asked for thirteen and it gave me a thirty-one. What’s to stop a booth from mixing a person up as well?”

“Maybe you asked for the wrong skin tone,” said Ronnie.

“I didn’t. You think I haven’t done this a thousand times before?”

“Let’s not argue about some stupid meme,” said Tash. “We’re perfect as we are. Who’d want to change?”

“There’s always something,” said Ronnie.

“Like what?” Tash asked with a grin. “Being such a know-it-all?”

“Pfft. Legs and lungs so I could run a marathon. What about you?”

“Bikini line, no question. Clair?”

“Uh . . .” Clair would have chosen her nose, but she wasn’t playing that game. Behind her sweat-thinned makeup, Libby’s birthmark had turned a deeper shade, as though it was blushing on her behalf.

“My invite came yesterday,” Libby said. “I did it. I used Improvement.”

“Why the hell?” said Ronnie.

“Just in case, okay?” She looked sheepish but her jaw had a defiant set. “The note says it takes a while. Maybe I haven’t d-matted enough yet for it to take effect.”

“You could d-mat for a year and it wouldn’t make a difference,” said Ronnie. “Listen—”

Tash put a hand on Ronnie’s arm, silencing her. Tash looked mortified, probably by the memory of her own “sixth grader” comment.

“No one even notices your birthmark,” she said.

“It’s true,” said Clair. “You’re the only one it bothers.”

“
I
notice it,” Libby said. “It
does
bother me.”

“We love you no matter what,” said Ronnie, “and you know Zep will, too.”

Clair nodded a little too hard.

“I think Zep’s seeing someone else,” Libby said.

The resulting chorus of outrage drove all thoughts of Improvement from the conversation.

“Details!” Ronnie demanded, but there were none for Libby to relate, really, just a feeling of distance, of pulling back, that she was certain of but couldn’t explain.

“Gut trumps heart,” said Tash. “I always knew he was too good to be true.”

“He wasn’t good
enough
,” said Ronnie.

“Agreed,” said Clair. “Why would anyone cheat on you, Libby?”

Libby shot Clair a look that was unlike anything Clair had ever seen from her best friend before. It was challenging and vulnerable at the same time. This was a Libby Clair barely recognized.

She knows
, Clair thought.
Oh God, she knows.

But how could she? There wasn’t really anything
to
know. That was the thought Clair had alternately reassured and tormented herself with since it had happened, or not happened, depending on how you looked at it. After an ordinary night hanging out and mucking around at Libby’s place, wherever in Sweden, Zep had walked Clair to the booth on the ground floor and kissed her good night. A simple good-night peck on the lips no different from any other in the past—except this time maybe it went on an instant longer than normal, and maybe something new crackled between them, and maybe Zep felt it too, whatever it was, because he hesitated before getting into the booth and zapping off to the Isle of Shanghai, leaving her reeling with the unprompted and unwanted thought that maybe he was dating the wrong girl.

It should be you, that thought said. Not Libby. Only it wasn’t a thought. It was a feeling so deep in her gut, she couldn’t fish it out. It was snagged in her, interfering with everything—school, her friendships, even her sleep.

Zep was fun, handsome, and her best friend’s boyfriend. He wasn’t an option. And she didn’t know what was worse—the cli
ché or the strain of holding two equal and opposite feelings at once.

Nothing had changed since the kiss, of course. He had played typically hard to get ever since, and it didn’t
look
like anything had changed between him and Libby.

But now this, and
this
only, made things worse. If Libby did break up with Zep, and if Clair and he did hook up, what would Libby think then? That Clair had been the other woman all the time?

As if
, Clair told herself, unable to hold Libby’s hot gaze any longer. Zep probably had girls mobbing him everywhere he went. Take that very night, the crashlander ball. Who knew where he was right then? He wasn’t with Libby, and he wasn’t with Clair, either, and that spoke volumes.

“Sorry, guys.” Libby’s voice was barely audible over the racket of the party. “I think I’m going to go home. My head is pounding, and I’m not really up to this now.”

Clair and her friends tried to talk Libby out of leaving, but she was adamant. Migraines were migraines, and the party bubble had popped, she said. It simply wasn’t fun now that Zep was here; he was stressing her out too much. Yes, Libby would confront him about it, but not now. Tomorrow, maybe.

Clair trailed with Libby back to the booth, just the two of them, as the night had started.

One of the doors was open, its mirrored interior empty and waiting.

“You sure you’ll be okay?” Clair asked.

Libby nodded, downcast. Clair impulsively took her hand and held her there for a moment. I love you, she wanted to say. I’ve known you nearly all my life, and you understand me better than anyone. You’ve fixed everything from grazed knees to panic attacks. I would never do anything to hurt you. When this stupid crush passes and you and Zep get married, I’ll be your maid of honor, and no one will remember but me.

But the words wouldn’t come. Clair could only hope that her eyes said everything she needed to express.

Libby let go and went into the booth.

“Stay beautiful,” she said.

“Yeah . . . you too.”

The door slid behind her, and the old booth whirred.

CLAIR SAGGED, EXHAUSTED suddenly by conflicted emotions. She told herself to concentrate on the party. It was going well. People were enjoying themselves, so why shouldn’t she? She would get herself another drink. She would find Tash and Ronnie and have another dance. She would—

“
There
you are, Clair-bear. Where’ve you been hiding?”

Zep was standing right behind her.

“Hey,” she said, turning away from the door through which
Libby had vanished. She couldn’t just ignore him, could she? “Are you having a good time?”

“Spot-on. These guys are the coolest. Was that Libby I saw a second ago?”

Clair nodded. “She left. A headache.”

“Her loss. A bunch of us cracked the lock on the old telescope hatch—whatever you call it. Come see. The view’s amazing!”

She hesitated. Reason told her that he was only inviting her because Libby wasn’t around and he wanted someone to show off to.

“All right,” she heard herself saying. “Just let me get a coat.”

They found a pile of parkas at the base of the ladder leading up to the walkway circling the base of the dome. The wide slit the telescope would once have peered through was indeed open, but the telescope itself was gone. Clair shrugged into a thick mountaineering jacket and zipped it up to her chin. The hood dampened some of the party’s incessant racket. She put on gloves and followed Zep up the ladder and onto a narrow maintenance platform that circled

the outside of the observatory. There was a rail, but it looked insubstantial against the black, mountainous space below. One misplaced step would lead to a sudden, stony death. Luckily, there were other things to think about.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” said Zep from behind her. His face was barely visible inside his own hood. He had to stand close so she could hear him. “Head that way. There’s another ladder around the bend that goes right to the top.”

Clair followed his directions deeper into the night, everything bombarding her in sharp-edged focus. She no longer felt cramped and crowded as without realizing it she had inside. On the roof of the Sphinx Observatory, the night seemed almost mythic in its intensity.

When she reached the ladder, Zep said, “Here, let me give you a hand.”

“No, I’ve got it.” She hoisted herself onto the first rung and climbed carefully but surely upward. The first few steps were perfectly vertical, but slowly the angle lessened as she came over the bulge of the dome. When she was halfway, the circular observation platform at the very top came into view. It was ringed with another low metal rail and was full of people, some of them standing on the rail and pretending to fly.

One boy shouted, “I’m going to jump! No, really, I am. . . .” Judging by the way people ignored him, he had been saying it for a while.

Five yards from the top, there was a ledge protruding from the dome where some kind of rusted antenna installation jutted out into the night. The ladder went right past it.

“Let’s stop at that ledge rather than go to the top.” Clair didn’t want to have to fight for a view, and the scenery was fantastic enough where she was.

“Sure. That’s cool.”

She climbed the rest of the way and stepped carefully onto the ledge. There was no rail, just the antenna to hang on to, and once
they were off the ladder, the slope of the dome beneath them felt five times steeper. The metal looked slippery too, rimed with clear ice. She wondered if she’d done the right thing. Then she felt something pressing into her side and heard a distinct click. Zep had used a carabiner to attach her to a rope that looped around his waist. Another click and they were both safely attached to the antenna.

He grinned at her with something like relief, and she laughed at the nervous moment she’d unknowingly shared with him.

They squatted down, then sat so their legs dangled off the ledge. Clair could feel the cold seeping into her backside, but for the moment it wasn’t making her uncomfortable. The view seemed to go forever.

“It’ll be light soon,” Zep said.

She didn’t check the clock in her lenses. Global time wouldn’t tell her whether it was midnight or five minutes to sunrise in Switzerland, since it was the same time everywhere. Her eyes told her that the sky did look faintly lighter to the east. The highest peaks were dusted with faint haloes, like giant angels.

She pulled an oxygen bottle from her pocket and took a hit. The compressed gas actually felt warmer than the air biting at her cheeks.

“This is such an amazing place,” Zep said.

“I know. We really did get lucky.”

“Everyone’s saying Libby found it, but you should get at least half the credit, I reckon. I bet she didn’t like it at first, and you
talked her into it.”

She tilted her head and stared at him through narrowed eyes. “How do you know that?”

“Because you’re Libby’s finisher.”

“Her what?”

“You finish what she starts, clean up her messes, right her wrongs, that kind of thing. You are, right?”

“I don’t do that,” she said, glancing out at the icy vista. “Not always.”

“Yes, always,” he said. “Sheesh. I know you two better than you know yourselves.”

“Ha! You wish.”

“Just try me.”

“All right. What’s my favorite kind of chocolate?”

“Dark.”

“Yes . . . but I already knew that.”

He grinned. “So give me something harder.”

Clair thought for a second. “What’s my least favorite city in the world?”

“Hmmm. Omsk.”

“Is that a real place?”

“Of course it is. You’d never hate somewhere imaginary.”

“But I’ve never been there.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’ll go there one day, and you’ll hate it. Take my word for it.”

“Have
you
been there?”

“No.”

“So how do you know?”

“I just know
you
, see? Want to go check it out? We can be there in thirty seconds.”

“No thanks.”

“Frightened I’ll be right?”

She laughed and punched him on the arm. It was as solid as a rock, even through the parkas. He snatched the oxygen bottle from her and took a hit.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were avoiding me.”

“What? No.” Just you-and-Libby, she wanted to say.

“Good.”

“Why?”

He sucked on the canister a second time, then gave it back to her. She resisted the urge to bring it immediately to her lips.

“Maybe it’s the oh-two,” he said, inching closer so they were pressed tightly against each other on the narrow ledge, “maybe it’s this place . . . I don’t know. But I’ve been wanting to get you alone all night. . . .”

Zep raised his right arm and put it around her shoulders while his other hand came across him to tip her hood back slightly. Her head tilted with it.

Every nerve cell in Clair’s body came alive, and at the same time every neuron in her brain froze in shock. This wasn’t happening, surely.

But it was. He leaned into her. She didn’t pull away. His lips
were parted. She could see his teeth. When he breathed out, the air misted between them, only there was hardly any
between
at all now. If he came any closer . . . all she had to do was . . .

“Wait, stop,” she said, raising her left arm and pushing firmly against his chest with fingers splayed. “What are you doing?”

He blinked at her. “What am I what?”

“
Libby
, remember?”

“This isn’t about Libby.”

“But it
has
to be about Libby. You can’t fool around with me while you’re seeing her. You
can’t
.
I
can’t.” She was talking to herself as much as him, and she didn’t think she was doing a very convincing job. “Besides, she already thinks you’re cheating on her with someone else. That’s a clique I’m not eager to join.”

“There’s no clique,” he said with a frown. “There’s no one else. Is that who you think I am?”

Before Clair could answer, a boom of flesh on metal came from above and behind them, heavy enough to make their perch vibrate. Clair whipped around and saw someone skating down the slippery slope of the dome. It was the boy who had been threatening to jump earlier. He was waving his hands above his head to keep himself upright. His expression was one of shock, as though he couldn’t believe what gravity was doing to him.