Free Pip: The Story of Olive by Kim Kane Page A

lessons – but now Olive suspected that people might actually guess.
    The harder you looked, the more different they were. Put simply, Pip was the same but better: her eyes looked bigger and somehow less weirdly spaced; her skin was not as blotchy; she seemed taller, stronger and, well, plain prettier.
    It was like when Olive bought two Caramello Koalas – one was always superior, even if they came out of the same mould in the same factory. If Olive and Pip were Caramello Koalas, thought Olive, then there was no doubt that Olive had less caramel.
    Olive looked from Pip back to the poster of Mog. Mog! Olive had completely forgotten to call her.
    Trudy answered the phone. ‘I’ll put you through, Olive,’ she squawked, ‘but I should warn you, things are feverish in here.’
    ‘Hi Ol, how was your day?’ spurted Mog onto the line.
    ‘Fine, thanks. Crazy. You’ll never guess what happened. I went to the beach and they were putting up some sculpture carnival thing, but I saw this set of mirrors against Kelso Pier, a—’
    ‘Yes, I understand the importance of this mediation, James, but I am on the phone to my daughter. I shall be in again shortly. Sorry, Ol. That man. Where were you?’
    ‘I took the Brass Eye, and . . . to trim a long story, I was doubled – well, twinned – and now Pip is—’
    ‘Yes, James, as I just explained not less than twenty-three seconds ago, I’m coming. Sorry, Ol. Things are frantic here. There’s enormous pressure to find a solution tonight, and everyone’s as tense as ticks. All right if I see you later at home? Tuck yourself up with a hottie. Love you.’ The phone clicked.
    ‘And I can’t wait for you to meet her,’ said Olive into the dead line.

    Olive ploughed through the debris created by her sister and went to find some linen.
    ‘Mog will be home later.’
    ‘Wicked,’ yelled Pip from Olive’s room and sneezed again.
    ‘Much later,’ said Olive into the hall cupboard.
    When she returned, Pip had picked up Olive’s watch and was buckling it around her wrist using the last, homemade hole. It was the special watch Mog had bought Olive for her first double-digit birthday, and Olive was careful not to wear it in the shower. Pip held up her hand. ‘That’s nice.’
    Olive’s eyes moved between her sister’s wrist and the watch-shaped gap in her jewellery box.
    Pip scanned Olive’s CDs and DVDs. ‘ The Little Mermaid ? Isn’t that for kids?’
    ‘It’s Disney’s best,’ said Olive and stopped. She loved Disney’s animations. She’d watched The Little Mermaid DVD until it got lines in it.
    Pip went back to the CDs and DVDs. ‘Nothing I like.’ She switched on the radio and turned the volume up.
    ‘Lucky Mog’s not home with a gin-and-tonic hangover,’ Olive said pointedly.
    ‘What’s the fish’s name?’ A fish the colour of canned tomato soup spiralled up and down a bowl.
    ‘Ariel,’ said Olive, hoping Pip would fail to recognise the obvious Disney reference.
    ‘I’d have called him Killer.’ Pip chasséd over to Olive’s cupboard, bobbing her hips and circling her arms above her head. She pored over the racks and held clothes up in front of the mirror, sucking in her cheeks. When she had finished with the garments, she let them fall to the floor like she was in a bric-a-brac market rather than Olive’s room.
    Olive made the spare bed. She then folded a towel, all fancy like a napkin, placed a bar of soap on top, and put it on Pip’s bed. She’d seen this done at hotels with Mog and it looked very sophisticated and very welcoming. If Pip noticed, she didn’t care, though, because she plonked herself down on top of it. ‘So, you talk about Mog but what about What’shisnameseed?’
    Olive picked up a leftover sheet and let the hem drop to the carpet.
    ‘Where is he?’
    Olive held the sheet out from her body and gathered the ends together, neatly drawing edge to edge. ‘I don’t know. Mog never mentions him. It’s sort of a no-go area.