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I wouldn’t have to face my fear, and I’d be getting away from the city, and the urge to wallow in my relationship mistakes.
It’s unethical, probably, and unprofessional.
“You would have to actually act like me, Scar. I know you think on some level that the act doesn’t matter because no-one’s ever going to think it’s not me when you look exactly like me …”
“Scouts honor, hand to God, I’ll wear your clothes and your attitude.”
She kisses her teeth and raises her eyebrows.
She’s trying not to say those two little words she always says, I can feel it.
Just like I can feel how excited she is over the idea of switching places.
Why do I get the feeling I’m going to regret this later?
“Fine,” I tell her. “I’ll clean your neighbors’ house, and you can interview Chaos Burning for me.”
Her eyes go wide, and her mouth drops open. She blinks. “Chaos Burning? You’re supposed to interview my favorite band in the universe, and you don’t tell me?”
“Well, I only found out yesterday, around the same time I was breaking up with Ben and trying to talk myself into going on that flight.”
“I can’t believe this. I get to meet them. Holy hell, Saph. You’ll never have to buy me a Christmas present again.”
“You’re welcome, I guess.”
Chapter eight
Sapphire
My transformation into my sister isn’t quite as simple as putting on her clothes. The ripped jeans are tight enough to be annoying, but I can cope with the pinch of discomfort. The top is thankfully more forgiving.
Scarlett applies my makeup, talking about each step as she does it, so I can remember and approximate it on my own for the whole week, starting tomorrow.
“This stuff is magic,” she tells me, as she puts a thin layer of what feels like gloss over my red-painted lips. “It’ll keep the lipstick on all damn day.”
She steps back, and smiles. “Perfect.”
I glance past her at the mirror above my dresser.
It’s kind of weird seeing my sister when I look at myself, but it only lasts for a second. I’m a bit more of a slouch, and I tend to keep my head down, so I don’t have that spark of confident energy that makes her so lively.
I stand up straighter.
“Looking good,” Scar says. “I wish I had body paint. I know I could make a realistic copy of my dragon on your side if I did.”
“I’ll just wear stuff that hides it,” I tell her.
She nods. “That makes sense. Wear my plainer T-shirts.”
“Tell me you have comfier jeans?”
“Good call. I have a couple faded black older pairs in my closet. I would wear old stuff if I was actually going to clean, anyway.”
“I assume you have Chuck Taylors in your closet, too?”
“Tons of them,” she confirms. “Just don’t wear the red ones. They’re new.”
I’m about to say red really isn’t my color, when I catch myself.
