Imitation (5 page)

“
I get to end the threat
against my daughter and you get to experience life as it exists in
the outside world. All of the luxury and extravagance your genetic
makeup craves. For however long your experience lasts,” he
adds.

I can only stare at him. Did he really
just say that my payment for dying is to sleep in a nice
bed?

In that moment I hate him. And her.
The girl I’m supposed to be. The girl I’m supposed to die for. I
would give all of the pecan ice cream in the world to be back in
Twig City, playing tennis with Ida and Lonnie. In that moment I
decide that no matter what happens, I will hate Titus and Raven
Rogen. Until the day I die.

***

My lunch in Rogen Tower is served in a
dining hall so ornate and hollow, I think my voice will echo if I
so much as whisper. The food set in front of me by a silent maid
with white streaks in her brown hair is succulent. I know this by
the smell alone. Even before I bite into the chicken breast covered
in cream, I know it will be the most delicious chicken I have ever
tasted. I am not wrong.

The food makes me think of the
vitamin-infused fruits and green vegetables Lonnie and Ida are
eating without me. In Twig City, there is no higher priority than
maintaining one’s health and fitness. Meals are no
exception.

I eat alone and am full long before
the food is gone. Before I’ve finished wiping my mouth with the
linen napkin, the maid retrieves my plate and Gus reappears in the
doorway. I think he’s been waiting outside, not wanting the
pressure of making conversation if he stayed in sight.

After lunch, I am led to a room Gus
calls the parlor. Heavy curtains obscure the sunlight that presses
against the glass behind them. I imagine warmth in the light. It
feels cold in the shadows and deep cushions inside this room. There
is a bookcase on one wall, laden with large albums. Gus retrieves a
stack and sets them on the floor next to me.

“
What are these?” I
ask.

“
Your history,” he
says.

“
What are they
for?”

“
They will show you the
names and faces of the people Raven knows.”

I gape at the stack of albums that
reaches past my knee. “You want me to memorize all of
them?”

“
Yes.”

Before I can argue, he walks
out.

I sink down to the floor, wondering
how in the world I’m supposed to teach myself all the faces these
albums contain. I peel open the cover on the first album and blink
at a face that is so exactly like mine, I wonder if it’s me and
I’ve simply forgotten the memory captured on film. But it’s her. I
see the difference in the eyes, and the smile that is entirely too
free for someone who grew up in Twig City. It’s slightly crooked on
one side and already I distrust her. Already I hate her.

There is movement in the doorway. I
look up, expecting Gus or even Titus. Instead, it is a boy I’ve
never seen before. He is close to my age, twenty at most. His light
hair is cropped close to his head and lays flat. I peg him for a
soldier, though he doesn’t wear any uniform. His hands are tucked
deep in his corduroy pockets and he is scowling.

My voice gets stuck in my throat.
Partly because he is a boy and I have almost zero experience
conversing with males. And partly because he is so beautiful and
Authentic and one hundred percent untouchable that it makes my
cheeks burn.

“
Um, can I help you?” I
ask when he doesn’t speak.

He gives me a disbelieving look and
then shakes his head. “I think you have it backwards.”

“
Have what—”

“
The helping part,” he
cuts in. “I’m apparently the one giving the help.” He doesn’t sound
happy about it.

“
I’m sorry, who are you?”
I ask, my irritation pricking at his tone.

“
Linc
Crawford.”

“
Linc Crawford.” I repeat
it, turning it over on my tongue, still trying to understand the
reason for his distaste.

He pushes off the frame and steps into
the room. “They say you have amnesia from that fall the other
day.”

I recall the story Titus told me he’s
given the staff. “That’s right.”

“
I’m supposed to show you
these albums. See if it’ll help you remember.” He sits down so
close to me, our shoulders are almost touching. He pulls the album
from my lap to his. The sudden closeness startles me and I am quick
to cover my discomfort with conversation.

“
Do you work for Titus?” I
ask. “I mean … my father?”

“
I’m your security
detail,” he says in a rough voice.

I press my lips together and leave it
at that. I’ve already botched this enough and his tone is clear. He
doesn’t want to talk to me any more than necessary for the job. I
take my cue from him and concentrate on the assignment at
hand.

Linc begins to show me the albums and
we fall into a rhythm. He points to a face, says a name, I repeat
it. We go slowly. After each page, he asks who I remember. I’m able
to recall a senator and his wife. This makes me happy but Linc
doesn’t react. Just turns the page and starts on the next set of
faces.

“
I’m not doing very well,
am I?” I say after several pages of faces I’ve already
forgotten.

He shrugs. “I get paid either
way.”

My shoulders stiffen as his biting
tone finally gets to me. “Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the
bed.”

“
Whatever. Let’s just get
this done.”

“
Fine,” I say through
tight lips.

I no longer care that the blue in his
eyes makes me think of cloudless skies or that he smells like wind
and soap and something else I can’t identify. Or that I want to
touch the scar on the back of his left hand. Instead, I force
myself to memorize politicians and social climbers and the elite
among a society I’ve never stepped foot in.

When we’ve finished, Linc rises and
walks to the doorway, arching a brow as he glances over his
shoulder. “You coming?” he asks.

“
Um, shouldn’t we put
these away?” I ask, waving at the albums scattered
about.

His forehead crinkles. It’s clear I’ve
said something wrong. “No, the maid will get them. Come
on.”

“
Where are we
going?”

“
Tea.”

I follow him out with a backward
glance at the mess. Cleaning up is something Authentic Raven
wouldn’t care about. I see that now. Linc leads me back into the
room with the fireplace. Titus is already there, seated at a small
table by a window, sipping something steamy from a delicate glass
cup. He doesn’t look up from his newspaper when I enter but I have
no doubt he knows I am here.

Linc stops inside the doorway and
waves me forward. I take the seat across from Titus, scooting my
chair back as far from the table as I dare. When I turn back, Linc
is gone.

Titus and I are alone.

He fills the cup in front of me with
an amber liquid that steams as it leaves the spout. Tea, I assume.
I’ve never had it. I begin to lift the cup to my mouth but Titus
stops me. “You take your tea with sugar.”

My hand falters as I set the cup down
with a clink against the saucer. I fumble with the assortment of
glassware until I pick out the sugar and load a spoonful into my
cup. My movements are quick and jerky, giving away the anxiety
coiling inside me.

“
Did you have a chance to
look over the albums?” he asks, abruptly setting his paper aside to
look at me. His gaze is direct, challenging, offensive.

“
Yes, sir.”

“
And? Do you feel
confident about your ability to identify those within your social
circle?”

It is not my social circle. It is
hers. But I say only, “I believe so.”

“
You believe
so?”

“
I—I think I need more
time. I wasn’t able to remember very many. Can’t we just tell
everyone I still have amnesia? That way I won’t have to
remember—”

“
Maybe I haven’t made
myself clear. You do not have a choice in the matter of your role
here. You were bred for this purpose. You were made to be her and
so you shall. The fact that you benefit from this arrangement is
merely a fortunate bonus. You will not return home if you displease
me. If you fail, you will be terminated.”

I am speechless. I suspected as much
but to hear him say it so carelessly, as if I’m nothing more than a
tool, a weapon, an accessory … But he is right. I am not human. I
am not Authentic. I mean nothing.

“
I understand,” I say
quietly.

His gaze sharpens and I let my hair
fall over the side of my face. “Something else to work on,” he
says, “is your attitude. My daughter is sure of herself and lowers
her face to no one. Including me.”

Again, there is the unmistakable hint
of challenge. I force my chin up and out and meet his stare. “Yes,
sir,” I say, packing as much acid into the last word as
possible.

He nods, as if my answer—the vehemence
in my tone—is exactly what he wanted to hear. “You will work again
with Linc this afternoon. Learn the names and faces. There is a
party tomorrow night, a fundraiser I am sponsoring for a senator,
and you will be there as her or you will be finished
here.”

He tosses a linen napkin from his lap
onto the table and strides out with heavy footsteps. I am rigid in
my chair, staring at nothing while I concentrate on expanding my
lungs in and out in a way that counteracts the hyperventilation
threatening.

I am relieved to be left alone,
although I have no doubt I’m being monitored. My attention wanders
to the window. Through the gauzy curtains I see a clear blue sky
lit by cheerful sunshine. It is so opposite to what it feels like
inside these walls and I wish again to be home in Twig City. At
least there my prison includes fresh air. Here, I feel suffocated,
as if the air is thick enough to choke out the real me I’ve buried
deep inside. Soon, all that will be left is her.

I finish the tea, mostly because it
prolongs what comes next. Titus said I need to study the albums
again and while I’m not upset to spend more time with Linc, the
fact that he already hates me—hates her—suggests I will end up
angry again for reasons I can never explain to him.

I am already frustrated by the time he
comes for me.

“
Time for round two,” he
says from the doorway. “You ready?”

I nod and push back from the table,
happy to leave this room behind.

We return to the parlor where the
albums have been neatly restacked into small piles on the rug. I
sink down to the floor and pick up the first one. Linc remains
standing and when I look up at him, he is watching me with a
creased forehead.

“
What?” I ask.

“
You must’ve really hit
your head,” he says, sinking down next to me.

“
Why’s that?”

“
Because Raven Rogen never
sits on the floor.”

My cheeks burn. I’ve made another
error. I return my attention to the album in my lap. I scan faces,
commit them to memory, and repeat them for Linc who nods or frowns
accordingly. I come upon one picture of a woman dressed in a bright
yellow feather costume. She is obviously some sort of performer
with her arms spread wide for dramatic effect and her outlandish
outfit and high-heeled shoes. I think she must have been going for
sensuous or even sexy, but to me, the effect is
ridiculous.

I let out a giggle and Linc’s fingers
go still against the page. He looks over at me like he’s never seen
me before.

“
What?” I say, trying—and
failing—to contain the rest of my laughter.

“
Your laugh …”

“
I’m sorry, but she looks
like a giant bird,” I say, only to giggle again.

His expression turns from confusion to
utter concentration. My laughter dies. There’s a shift in the way
he watches me. I can’t identify it, but neither can I look away. If
this is what it feels like to have a boy look at you, no wonder
they keep us segregated in Twig City. My nerves dance on
end.

Out in the hall, a gruff voice calls
out to another. The words are muted but it’s enough. The spell is
broken. Linc looks away. I blink furiously and stare down at the
album shared between us.

Linc clears his throat. “This one,” he
says, picking up where we left off.

An hour passes.

Albums are cast aside, replaced by
fresh ones. A face catches my eye. It is a boy, striking in his
similarity to Linc, though this face is rounder, older. “Who is
that?” I ask.

Linc is quiet for a long time. When I
look at him, he is staring at the page so hard I think he could
burn a hole through it. “That’s Adam,” he says finally. “My
brother.”

His answer intrigues me. Any sort of
familial reference makes me curious because I have no idea what
that would feel like. Sometimes I think Ida and Lonnie are like my
sisters but I suspect it’s not the same. My attention returns to
the picture. “You look like him. Are you close?”