The streetcar stopped right across the street from Ecole Bernardin. I'd been practically hanging out the open window, totally nervous that I would somehow miss it. I felt more alone than I ever had in my whole life, even when a bunch of other kids got off the streetcar with me, obviously going to the same school.
I know it's always hard being the new kid-I mean, I'd read about it. But I'd never been the new kid before. And from the looks I was getting, this school didn't seem to get too many new kids. Some people glanced at me and gave me casual waves or smiles, but others stared at me like I was an alien-edging me closer to nervous-breakdown-dom.
The school building looked like it had been built back in the sixties, painted garish shades of blue and orange. Inside, one of the first doors I saw said GIRLS, and I ducked in there fast. Three sinks sat below three mirrors, and I looked at myself to see if I had toothpaste on my face or had grown horns or something.
I was still trying to figure it out when a girl emerged from a cubicle and stood next to me to wash her hands.
She glanced casually at me in the mirror and said, "Oh, hey-" Then she stopped and actually did a double take.
"What?" I asked, my nerves about to snap. "What's wrong with me?"
"Uh… " The girl looked totally taken aback. "Uh, who are you? Are you new here?"
"Yes," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "Do you guys never get new people? Everyone's looking at me like I have two heads. What is it?" I swallowed hard, praying that I wouldn't start crying.
The girl shook her head. "Nothings wrong with you," she said, trying to be nice. "But it's just that you- you really look like someone who already goes to school here."
I stared at her, thinking of the few casual "heys" I'd gotten. "What? I look so similar to someone that people are staring at me when I go by? You've got to be kidding."
"No," the girl said, giving me an apologetic smile. '"You really do look like her. Its kind of weird, actually."
I didn't know what to say. Once again I had entered some crazy New Orleans X-Files where the rules of reality didn't apply.
Tm sorry," the girl said, and held out her hand. "I'm Sylvie. Do you want me to show you where the office is?"
I shook her hand, feeling a pathetic amount of relief that I'd met someone kind. "I'm Thais," I said. "That would be great"
Just walking beside Sylvie helped, so much, to the point where I could quit freaking out and actually pay attention to the reactions I was getting. It wasn't from everyone-mostly older kids. I saw what Sylvie meant: some kids said hello, as if they already knew me. Others looked like they were going to say hi, then frowned and looked confused.
"Okay, here it is," said Sylvie, showing me to an open door by a wide counter. Clearly the school office. "Homerooms are by last name. What's yours?"
"Allard," I said, and she smiled and nodded.
"I'm Allen-Sylvie Allen! So we'll be in the same one. I'll see you soon, okay?"
"Thanks," I said gratefully.
Sylvie nodded and headed down the hall, and I waited at the counter. A middle-aged woman with curly gray hair came over to me.
"Yes, Clio?" she said briefly, taking out a form from under the counter. "What can I do for you?"
There was no one standing there but me. "Urn, I'm not Clio," I said.
The woman stopped and looked at me full-on. Embarrassed, I stood there, feeling like a zoo exhibit, A bell rang, and the halls filled with even more kids. The bell stopped, and still she hadn't said anything to me.
"You're not Clio," she said finally;
"No. Someone told me I look like someone who already goes to school here." But can you get over if? "Here are my transcripts from my last school." I pushed them across the counter. "I just moved here this summer. From Connecticut."
Slowly she took my transcripts and the registration letter I'd gotten in the mail. Her name tag said Ms, DiLiberti." Thais Allard," she said, pronouncing it correctly.
"Yes."
"Yes, well, welcome, Thais," she said, seeming to recover enough to give me a professional smile. "I see you were a very good student back in Connecticut. I'm sure you'll do well here."
"Thank you "
"Your homeroom teacher will be Ms. Delaney, room 206. You'll just take the first set of stairs over there to your left,"
"Thanks."
And here's some other information," Now she was all business. "Here's a copy of our school handbook- you might find that helpful. Here's our school contract-please read it, sign it, and get it back to me by the end of the day. And if you could fill in this emergency contact form."
"Yes, okay." This stuff I could deal with. What a relief. Then something almost imperceptible made my shoulders tense. I looked up just in time to see Ms. DiLiberti straighten, looking over my shoulder,
"Wait," she said to me. "Clio!"
I looked around-at last, they'd see us both together and we could stop all this double-take crap. A group of girls was walking toward us, laughing among themselves.
The light was behind them, so they were just dark silhouettes.
"Clio! Clio Martin!" Ms. DiLiberti called.
I turned to face the counter, suddenly aware of a shaky feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was barely nine o'clock, and I was exhausted and emotionally wrung out. Just meet Clio and get it over with. But still, I felt nervous and anxious all over again.
"See y all," said a voice. It sounded like my voice- except the word fall would never pass my lips. A fist of something like dread grabbed my stomach. I didn't know why I felt this way but I was barely able to keep it together. "Yes, Ms. DiLibertii. It wasn't me," said the voice. "I just got here."
Ms. DiLiberti smiled wryly. "Amazingly, I haven't called you over to discuss your latest transgression," she said. 'After all, its only nine o'clock on the first day. I'll give you a little more time. But there's someone I want you to meet. Thais?'
Slowly I turned, finally face-to-face with the mysterious-
Me.
I blinked, and for one second I almost put up a hand to see if someone had slipped a mirror in front of me. My eyes widened, and identical green eyes widened simultaneously. My mouth opened a tiny bit, and a mouth shaped like mine but with slightly darker lip gloss also opened. I stepped back automatically and quickly scanned this other me, this Clio.
Our hair was different-hers was longer, I guessed, since it was in a messy knot on the back of her head. Mine was feathered in layers above my shoulders. She was wearing a white tank top and pink-and-red surfer shorts that laced up the front. She had a silver belly ring. We had the same long legs, the same arms. She had a slightly darker tan. We were the same height and looked like we were the same weight, or almost. And here was the really, really unbelievable part:
We had the exact same strawberry birthmark, shaped like a crushed flower. Only hers was on her left cheekbone, and mine was on the right. We were identical two copies of the same person, peeled apart at some point to make mirror images of each other.
Even though my brain was screaming in confusion, one coherent thought surfaced: there was only one possible explanation.
Clio was my twin sister.