“This is silly! I really don’t want to fight you, Georgia,” I say. “Think of the baby!”
She snorts. “I’m not worried about the baby. The baby is probably going to sleep through the whole thing. Because the only person who’s going to be crying three seconds from now is you.”
Three, two, one … ouch!
I have no freaking clue how she did it. For a second, I thought she was giving up, stepping away from me. But then she did something with one hand, spun around, stuck out a foot, and bam! I was down. Flat on my back on the pavement, flopping like a fish.
Before I can catch my breath, she puts her foot on my right hand. Not enough weight to break it, just enough to keep me there. It feels like all the available air is hovering just above me, slightly out of my reach. Like I’d need a straw to suck it in from all the way down here.
I cough and splutter.
“Kenna’s a lefty, by the way. She’d never wave hello with her right hand,” Georgia says, still glaring. I can’t help but notice she’s got kittens and puppies and sparkly pawprints on her talonlike nails. “So let me ask you again: who the hell are you, and what have you done with my best friend?”
“OMG. You’re the secret handshake,” I manage to choke out.
“What are you talking about?”
I am an idiot. I hadn’t paid attention when Kenna was talking about herbest friend,Georgia, because Georgia wasn’t going to be a factor in our ruse. Georgia was out of town. Camping off the grid with her boyfriend. I just kind of tuned it out.
“Never mind,” I say.
This is the girl who made the friendship bracelet? Her foot is still pressing down on my hand, and I’m starting to get the feeling that I will suffer permanent damage if I don’t start explaining.
“Look, Kenna is fine. She’s at my place, pretending to be me. We traded places for the week.”
“Bullshit. She didn’t tell me anything about this,” Georgia says.
“That’s because you were supposed to be out of town, off the grid, all week, right?”
“Keep talking.” Georgia nods calmly at me. God, I love her. But I also hate her. I kind of want to be her. She is so cool.
“Shit, can I please sit up?” I ask. “I promise I won’t fight back. We can call Kenna and clear this whole thing up. Her number’s in my phone. It’s in the apron pocket.”
“Hand me the phone with your other hand,” she says, foot still firmly planted on my right hand.
“Here you go.” I pass her the phone.
“Code?” she asks.
I say, “1234.”
“Really?” She looks disdainfully down at me.
“I used to change it all the time, but I kept forgetting and it was just easier,” I babble.
She shakes her head and opens my settings. “You should be more careful … Lorelei.” Then she scrolls down to my photos, does a quick sweep through my roll, looks down at me again, and comments cooly, “Shut the fuck up. You’re Poxy fucking Moxie. You really do look a lot like Kenna.”
“Yep, that’s me. Can I please get up now?” I beg.
Georgia nods and steps back, still staring at me warily.
I push myself to my feet, brush off my hands, and hold one out. “Lorelei Dupont. And may I say, what a pleasure to meet you, Georgia. That was some serious, badass shit. I think you may be my new girl crush. ‘Though she be but little, she is fierce.’” Hermia’s line fromMidsummer Nightpops into my head.
But Georgia ignores my outstretched hand and scrolls through my contacts till she gets to Kenna’s number and hits the call button.
“Hey, Lorelei. Everything okay at the diner?” Kenna sounds a little too worried.Why wouldn’t things be okay? Everything has been great. Barring this Georgia incident.
“Hey, Kenna, how’s it going?” Georgia asks in a falsely cheerful tone, like a telemarketer.
