My Twin Sister’s Extremely Famous and Incredibly Hot Neighbor

I swipe my paintbrush across the watercolor paper, loving the way the paint spreads on the wet surface. The spindly feathering mesmerizes me. A quick flick of my wrist sets another burst of color into the first. My soul soars as the color blends and takes shape and I know this one is going to be fantastic. This will be the perfect background for my next painting.

As I reach for my paint tray, my sleeve knocks over my water, and I screech as it splashes over my painting, muddying it and ruining the entire thing.

“Blast!” I jump up and grab a rag to mop up the mess. I try dabbing the paper to see if I can salvage it, but it’s no use. The paint comes up as I dab and the magic is gone.

I sigh and look around my tiny living room. My desk is crammed in the corner, and all of my watercolor paint supplies are stacked against the wall. I film my online classes in here, and that equipment takes up half the room. I can barely walk around the space. My bedroom isn’t any better. It’s so small my bed takes up the entire thing. I seriously need a bigger apartment, but this is all I can afford.

My phone sings out my sister’s ringtone, which surprises me. It’s been several months since we last talked. I pick up. “Hello?”

“Mackenzie! How are you?”

Her unusually chipper voice gives her away. “What do you need, Jera?”

She scoffs. “What? Can’t a girl call her sister just to see how she’s doing?”

I sigh as I mop up muddy water from my desk. “I can already tell you want something.”

Jera is my older sister, but only by a minute and a half. Having a twin was awesome until Jera got a lead role in a movie and became wildly famous. Now I can’t go anywhere without being mistaken for her. This explains why I hardly ever leave my Denver apartment. That, and crowds of people give me massive anxiety.

“All right. Here’s the thing. I need you to come to L.A. and be me for about a week.”

I bust out laughing. “You’re kidding.”

“It’s not funny, Mackenzie. It’s an emergency.”

I’m used to Jera being over dramatic, so I don’t panic. “What happened?”

“Something terrible.” Her voice hitches. That’s not like her, and I get a bad feeling.

“Are you crying?” My heart lodges itself in my throat as the worst things come to mind. Did she have a car accident? Is it cancer? Is she dying? “What is it?”

“I—I had my eyelids done.”

All my worry whooshes out of me in one big breath. That was not what I was expecting to hear. “You what?”

“I know it’s shallow, and I know it’s cliche, but this business is brutal. I had to fix my eyelids.”

I gape at the phone. Jera had plastic surgery? “What was wrong with them?”

“I desperately needed a lift and tighten. I mean, they were saggy and just—gross.”

“Your eyelids look just like mine,” I say, my voice flat. I pick up my soggy rag and walk to the sink. I have to hold my hand under it to make sure it doesn’t drip paint on the floor. The landlord already doesn’t like me because I spilled paint on the carpet in the hallway. In my defense, the hallway could use new carpet anyway. My stain isn’t the only one there.

“Oh, I’m not saying your eyes are gross. They’re fine. You don’t have to live with a camera in your face all the time.”

I think she just insulted me, but I ignore it and move on. I squeeze my rag out and turn on the water. “So? Why do you need me to trade you places?”

“You don’t understand. I’ve got horrible bruising. It’s all around my eyes. I look like a raccoon!” She’s screeching, and I’m about to hang up on her.

“Stop. I can’t be you.” Aside from us both being tall and blond and wearing the same face, Jera and I are nothing alike. She’s outgoing and always the life of the party. I’m awkward with people and would much rather stay home by myself.

“Yes, you can. No one will know. It’s only for a little while. And you can stay in my house.”

I bite my lip as I watch the muddy paint flow from the rag and down the drain. Jera’s home is a Barbie dream house, only bigger and with two pools. (Don’t ask me why she needs two pools. I asked once and got chewed out and never really got a good answer except that they’re different and stop being so judgy.) I try not to salivate as I shake my head.

“I can’t. You know I don’t accept charity.” Jera was always trying to buy me stuff, but I don’t need her money. I can make it on my own. I wring the rag and turn off the faucet.

I sink down on my chair and pull a doggie treat from my pocket. Squint jumps onto my lap and gobbles up the treat. My ex jokingly called my little Chihuahua that name when I first got him because he said he was so tiny he had to squint to see him, and the name stuck. The boyfriend didn’t. I pet my dog and wait for Jera to respond.

No sound comes out of the phone and for a minute I hold my breath, hoping she’s finally come to her senses. But then I hear a sniffle. “It’s not charity. It’s a trade.” A moment passes before she whispers, “‘Kenzie, I need you,” and I fold like a cheap pile of laundry.

My sister and I were best friends growing up. Our family didn’t have a lot of money, so we had to find our own things to do. We made up games and played in the neighborhood. But somewhere between high school and movie stardom, we drifted apart. Her pleading with me brings me back to that time when we would do anything for each other. I suddenly want to be there for her. Plus, I trust her not to get me into anything too terrible.

I take in a breath and stare at a mystery stain on my ceiling. “What would I need to do?”

“Nothing! I mean, just go to one party in my place. Oh, and one photo shoot but it’s no big deal.”

A party and a photo shoot? There’s no way I can do that. My stomach clenches just thinking about it. I can’t be around lots of people without my anxiety flaring up.

“Jera…I love you, but I can’t do that. I have responsibilities here. I have classes to upload.” Gah. Why can’t I think of something better? It was a dumb excuse, and I can hear how flimsy it sounds.

“You can do them here, in my house. I’ll buy you whatever you need. All new art supplies!”

My heart leaps at the offer. I’ve been working with a discount set of paints, but it’s all I can afford. I’ve been wanting new paintbrushes, too. Jera knows my weaknesses. I want to tell her yes, but instead I hear myself say, “You don’t have to buy me stuff.”

“It’s a trade.” She elongates the word, and I can’t help but seriously think about it. Then I think about the airport and all the people there.

“I hate flying.”

“I’ll send my jet. It’s luxury, and you won’t have to fly with anyone else.”

“Parties aren’t my thing.” Even though I’m hedging, I’m already thinking of all the things I’ll need to pack. I must be insane.

“It’s a small one. You just need to be seen and then you can leave. Simple, right? Do this for me?” Her voice takes on a pleading tone.

I want to say yes. I want to help Jera. I’m just not sure I can handle all that entails. Another thought enters my mind and I freeze. “What about Luke?”

Luke was her famous on-again-off-again boyfriend. They were in the celebrity news all the time. He’s some big-shot actor. He would definitely know I wasn’t Jera.

“We’re not seeing each other anymore, so don’t worry about him. See? This will be like a vacation for you.”

I pause, trying to gather up my courage. I could do this, right? Plus, I hadn’t seen my sister in forever. We’d get some quality time together. I’ve missed her.

Jera must think I’m going to say no again because she begs. “Please? I’ll upgrade your apartment. I know you complain about it. I’ll get you a three-bedroom in a nicer neighborhood.” When I don’t say anything she continues. “And I’ll pay you for the photo shoot. Five thousand dollars. It’s yours!”

I wonder if I continue to be silent if she’ll offer me even more, but instead of holding out, I laugh. “All right, all right. You don’t have to keep promising me stuff. I’ll do it just for the art supplies, as long as I can bring my dog. I’m really excited about the art supplies.”

“Yes. Fine! Bring him. Thank you!”

Squint licks my face as I end the call with my sister. “Guess we’re going on an adventure,” I say as I scoop him up. But even as I try to keep all the perks in my head, the daunting feeling of having made a bad decision squeezes my chest.

I shove away the ominous thought. It’s just a week. I only agreed to leave her house twice. Everything should be fine.