Free DupliKate by Cherry Cheva Page B

twins,” he said lazily. “That’s kinda sexy.”
    We both smiled at him—Rina cheerfully, me sarcastically—as she dragged me away to the fitting room. She’d piled four different dresses, five pairs of jeans, and a few ruffly little tops on the bench inside. I moved them over, sat down, and started digging through my bag for a pen and my beat-up copy of The Sound and the Fury .
    Rina seemed taken aback. “You’re going to study?” she asked, kicking her shoes off. “Don’t you want to try on clothes?”
    “Of course I’m going to study,” I said. “And as long as you try things on, it’s the same difference, right?”
    “Oh my God, right!” Rina exclaimed. She immediately started changing into one of the dresses as I got out some colored sticky tabs and started making notes in my book for the English take-home final due Monday. I didn’t even look up as she methodically went through her stack, hangers occasionally clattering to the floor. When she found something that she liked, she told me to look up, and I’d glance into the mirror and see, well, myself, in a different outfit. We ended up leaving J. Crew empty-handed—not enough was on sale—but repeated our system all over the mall.
    “Eh,” I said to a black and white polka-dotted halter dress at Ann Taylor—the neckline was a little low. Actually, a lot low. I could’ve bought it for Kyla.
    “Maybe,” I said to a dove gray cardigan at Banana Republic. It was clearly very comfortable, and would go with a lot of stuff I already owned, but the ribbons at the neck and hem made it a little “librarian” for me.
    “Hell yes,” I said to the cute little red-and-beige faux-leather sneakers at a random shoe store. Mostly because they cost twelve bucks. Rina grinned and put her own shoes back on, and I stuck a bookmark in The Sound and the Fury and followed her to the counter. I happily handed her my wallet, psyched that I’d discovered how to shop while simultaneously doing work. This was time management—I felt more relaxed than I had in ages. Plus, Rina seemed overjoyed, and she was a quick study—she was now totally avoiding anything pink or skanky or goth, and pointing at stuff like fitted dark red cords and cute little black platform Mary Janes. By the time we were on the last store, she was only trying on things that I would have chosen myself.
    “Congrats,” I said to her, looking at the ribbed black tank top, cropped gray jacket, and low-waisted trouser-cut jeans she was checking out in the dressing room mirror. “You look great.”
    “Yay!” she said. “And that means you would too!”
    I smiled and inspected the outfit again, making a mental note that I should wear it the next time Paul and I went out, and I couldn’t help but stare at Rina in the mirror. It was weird and cool at the same time—looking at her was like looking at me. Except that Rina was having a better hair day.
    We were just leaving the food court to head home, cinnamon pretzels and multiple shopping bags in hand, when Rina elbowed me. “Did you notice people are staring at us?”
    “Of course they are,” I said. “Look at what you’re wearing.” After I’d nixed her earmuffs in the car, she’d decided to wear her scarf as a headband—her extremely woolly, fluffy, fringed orange scarf. But she did have a point—as we were walking, I caught a few randoms giving us slightly longer than usual glances, and as we passed by a mirrored window, I did a double take as well.
    “Okay,” I admitted, “I see what you mean. But I guess I sometimes check out twins in public too.” As if on cue, a little kid stopped dead in his tracks on the sidewalk and pointed at us. “Look, Mommy, twins!” he yelled.
    “Shhh,” his mom said, reaching out and pushing down his pointing hand. She looked at me and Rina apologetically, and we smiled at her. The kid was super cute, after all. Rina waved at him. He waved back. After a second, I waved at him too, and he smiled