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Now, Olivia and I look exactly the same.
Chapter Twenty-One
“I still can’t believe she got her hair colored to match yours. What a copycat.”
“Olivia has always been a bit of follower. She can’t help yourself.”
“You’re so nice, Evangeline. I don’t think I’d be able to stand it.”
Even though they know that I’m only sitting a pew away, Olivia and her new coven don’t bother lowering their voices as they openly talk shit about me.
Anya went out of her way to smooth things over at the salon, gushing that she always wanted a twin that looked just like her. That didn’t stop Maisie and Serena from making it clear that they’d be totally embarrassed to be caught copying anyone, much less their own sister.
Olivia took it all in with apparent grace, only making the comment that I was welcome to go through her laundry at any point.
Bitch.
The three of them saw nothing inappropriate with carrying on their catty conversation, even after we took our seats in the church for Brady’s funeral service.
The fact that Brady’s casket is less than a hundred feet away doesn’t seem to matter to them, despite the sad faces they put on whenever a member of Havoc House walks by. I already knew that these girls were superficial, but it’s amazing how quickly they can alternate between dramatic displays of grief and bitchy commentary.
I never would have thought Olivia could be this kind of girl. She’d always been the girl who had to be rescued from the bullies, not the one joining in on their twisted fun. Nothing in her journal gave me any sign that this was what she had become before the attack.
Which only begs the question: what happened between last year and now?
Unless Olivia gives herself another personality transplant and decides to be honest with me, I’ll probably never know.
She laughs, the sound low-pitched, melodic and nothing like the shy little guffaws that used to escape when I’d surprise her with a joke as a kid. Her laugh used to sound a bit like the braying of a newborn donkey, something between a cough and a sneeze. Our mother insisted it was cute when Olivia got embarrassed.
That laugh is gone, replaced by a practiced sound that only draws the right sort of attention. People turn in their pews to glance back at the laughing girl, but there isn’t any censure in their gazes. Instead, they see the unshed tears sparkling in her lashes and must assume she is laughing through the pain, small smiles coming to their own faces even though they can’t have any idea what could be so funny during a funeral.
It’s making me feel more than a little sick.
Drake walks down the aisle and stops next to where I’m sitting at the end of the pew.
I refuse to look at him, keeping my gaze trained on the shiny casket at the front of the chapel.
His hand grazes the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. I shift away, even though I desperately want to move closer. He won’t win me back that easily.
He bends low to murmur in my ear. “What happened to your hair?”
I can’t look at him. If I do, I won’t be able to stop myself from giving into the urge to forgive him for everything.
“Don’t ask,” Felicia says for me as she shoots him a glare.
Drake ignores her, still close enough to touch. “Did you get it cut?”
“It’s just darker,” Felicia snaps. “And go away. You’re being inappropriate.”
He glances at the pew ahead of us, taking in the glossy sheen of hair falling down Olivia’s back. “Hmm.”
Felicia doesn’t say anything else until he moves away, headed for a pew in the front saved for members of Havoc House.
“You two really do look a lot alike,” she murmurs.
“Looks can be deceiving,” I return.
“But he knew it was you even from behind.”
