P2P Wiki
Entry: “Doppelgangers”
Edited by: Maytrix
An apparition of a living person, also called a “double.” Traditionally, if a person sees their doppelganger, it’s thought to mean bad luck. In some cultures, doppelgangers are believed to be harbingers of death. Others think a doppelganger serves as an “evil twin,” or another version of that person but with dark intentions.
AFTER a rushed breakfast the next morning, Dad and Jess headed out for a full schedule of back-to-back interviews with locals, all of whom had different stories about their experiences on the Yongheng Bridge. Lidia was busy taking care of logistics for our episode in Seoul next week, and Roland and Sam started editing the footage from the bridge.
Oscar and I had just finished plates of scrambled eggs and soft steamed buns filled with pork when Mi Jin slid into the chair next to me. I saw her camera in her lap and groaned.
“I don’t wanna.”
Mi Jin smiled sympathetically. “Well, you gotta. We can’t have an episode where an actual apparition of one of our own cast members appears, and then not interview that cast member about it.” I made a face, and she added: “Or we could get started on Algebra II. Spring semester has begun, my lovely students.”
Oscar was already getting to his feet. “Interview, Kat,” he pleaded. “Is being on camera really worse than homework?”
“Is eating a tarantula really worse than drinking snake venom?” I muttered, but I stood, too. When I woke up this morning, Dad had warned me about this interview, so Oscar and I had spent the last half hour planning out how I’d respond—because clearly I wasn’t going to talk about the Thing and my issues with my mother on national television. I knew what I had to say. I just had to make it convincing.
We found a quiet corner of the lobby, where a large painting featured misty mountains similar to the ones we’d visited yesterday. The picture was in black and white, except for the moon, which was bloodred.
“Perfect backdrop,” Mi Jin said, positioning me in front of it. Oscar stepped forward hesitantly.
“Both of us, or just Kat?”
Mi Jin chewed her lip for a moment. Then she thrust her camera at Oscar.
“Me and Kat.”
Oscar blinked. “What?”
“I want you to film me and Kat,” Mi Jin said, helping him hoist the camera onto his shoulder. “I know a lot about doppelgangers, and it makes more sense for me to be on camera talking to her about it. Do you mind?”
“No!” Actually, Oscar looked pleased. He listened carefully as Mi Jin showed him the various buttons. Then she hurried over to join me.
“Ready.” She laughed when I made a gagging face. “I know this isn’t your favorite part, but you’re always great on camera. All right, Oscar—go for it!”
The red light flashed on, and Mi Jin turned to me.
“So, Kat. After watching that footage of you and the ghost on the bridge about a zillion times, the whole crew agrees that there’s no way it’s some sort of reflection. We saw an apparition, and it looked exactly like you. Everyone has different theories, but what do you think it was?”
I took a deep breath. “I think you’re right. I think it’s a doppelganger.”
Mi Jin’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Why?”
“Well, Sam mentioned astral projection,” I began. “I researched that, and usually the person is unconscious or meditating and they project their—their soul, or spirit or whatever—to another location, and then they see what their spirit sees. Obviously, I was conscious the whole time, and I didn’t have any sort of out-of-body experience.” The memory of that roller-coaster loop sensation hit me, and I pushed it away. “Then Lidia and Jess thought maybe it was the demonic presence that supposedly haunts the bridge, and . . . well, I guess we’ll see what my dad finds out during his interviews today, but I know he did a lot of research before we came and I don’t remember any accounts of people saying they saw themselves on the bridge. A doppelganger is the only thing that makes sense.”
Mi Jin did a little fist pump. “Yes. Exactly.” She winked at the camera and added, “I’m a little bit obsessed with doppelgangers, so I’m really excited about this.”
“I researched those, too,” I went on, itching to get this over with. “They’re supposed to be bad luck, if you see your own. Some people think it means you’re going to die soon.”
“True, but I have a theory about that,” Mi Jin said. “Do you know what a self-fulfilling prophecy is?”
“Yes,” I replied instantly. “It happens in books all the time. Someone hears a prophecy, and then when they try to do something to stop it, their actions just cause the prophecy to come true. So it’s like it never would’ve happened if they hadn’t heard the prophecy to begin with.”
Mi Jin smiled. “Exactly! A lot of the recorded accounts I’ve read of people who have died after supposedly seeing their doppelgangers . . . their deaths were a result of their reaction to seeing it. You know what I mean? Like, if they hadn’t freaked out after seeing their double, they wouldn’t have gotten on that train that crashed or whatever led to their death.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.” I frowned. “Although . . . you’re still basically saying if they hadn’t seen their doppelganger, they wouldn’t have died. So it is a . . .” I paused, trying to remember what I’d read on the P2P Wiki. “A harbinger of death.”
Mi Jin looked impressed. “Touché. I guess it can be, depending on how the person reacts.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Oscar wave at me, and I knew what he wanted me to say. While we were brainstorming, he’d come up with the perfect way to end this interview. Bracing myself, I tore my eyes off Mi Jin, faced the camera, and smiled.
“Will I die in the season two finale? Tune in to find out!”
I held the smile another second, praying it looked natural. Then, mercifully, the red light turned off. Oscar struggled to lower the camera, but he was beaming.
“That was awesome,” he said fervently. Feeling rather proud, I turned to Mi Jin. She wasn’t smiling, though. In fact, she looked kind of shocked.
“Kat, you don’t . . . are you actually worried you’re going to die?”
“What? No!” I exclaimed. “Not at all. Oscar and I just thought that would be funny.”
“And it’s a great sound bite for finale promo,” Oscar added. “Isn’t it?”
Mi Jin relaxed a little. “Yeah, it would be . . .” She gave me an uncertain look. “Not sure your dad would be on board with that, though. I mean, promoting an episode based on whether or not you’ll die?”
I wrinkled my nose. “I guess he probably won’t like that.”
Oscar’s shoulders sagged. “So should we shoot something else?” he asked, and I groaned loudly.
Laughing, Mi Jin took her camera from him. “No, no . . . we’ll see what he says. But even if he doesn’t like that part, Kat, this interview was great. Love how you debunked those other theories.”
“Thanks!”
“All right, off to do some editing.” Mi Jin waved before heading to the elevators. Once she was out of sight, Oscar turned to me.
“You,” he said, holding up his hand, “should consider being an actor, too.”
I rolled my eyes. “Over my dead body,” I replied, but I high-fived him, anyway.
Oscar and I spent most of the afternoon exploring the neighborhood, taking pictures of the giant colorful gate a few blocks away and ducking into a coffee and tea shop when the wind got too chilly. When we got back to the hotel, Oscar headed for the business center, a small room near the reception desk with several computers.
“Can’t you use one of the laptops upstairs?” I asked, stifling a yawn.
He shook his head. “They’re all up there editing, remember?”
“Ah.” I glanced at the time on my phone. “They’ll be stopping for dinner soon, though. Or, hey, you can always use the one in my room!”
“Yeah, but . . .” Oscar glanced at me and sighed. “I’m supposed to video chat with Thiago in fifteen minutes, okay?”
I grinned. “Ah.” Thiago was a boy we’d met in Buenos Aires, and he and Oscar had really hit it off. “In that case, I think I’m gonna just go upstairs and take a nap. Tell Thiago I said hi.”
When I stepped off the elevator, I remembered I needed to let Lidia know that Oscar and I were back. Her door was slightly ajar, but I knocked anyway before stepping inside. The usual mess greeted me: cables and cords all over the floor, five open laptops on the desk and beds, Lidia’s giant whiteboard covered in notes blocking most of the window. Lidia was standing behind Roland, who was seated at the desk watching a clip.
“Hey, Lidia,” I called, and she glanced up. “Oscar’s downstairs in the business center, and I’m going to take a nap.” Lidia gave me a thumbs-up and returned her attention to the screen. I barely had one foot back in the hall when Mi Jin yelled, “Kat, wait up!”
She joined me in the hall a moment later and thrust a thick stack of papers into my hands. I let out an exaggerated groan.
“Aw, is this homework?”
“Ha, no.” Mi Jin stuck her hands in her pockets. “It’s my screenplay. Doesn’t have a title yet,” she added, and I saw that the top page just said UNTITLED, by Mi Jin Seong.
“Oh, cool!” I said, suddenly feeling much more awake. “About doppelgangers, right? You’re letting me read it?”
“Actually, I was hoping you’d give me some feedback.”
My eyes widened. “What?”
“It’s just a first draft,” she said quickly. “I know it needs a lot of work. But it’s basically about a woman who’s being stalked by what she thinks is her doppelganger, and I just thought, hey, now I actually know someone who’s seen her own doppelganger, plus she’s a horror movie expert and a generally awesome human, so maybe she could give me some notes?”
Mi Jin clasped her hands together like she was begging, her eyes comically wide. I just stood there, floored. Mi Jin was one of the coolest and smartest people I’d ever met, and she was asking me for help? The idea made me feel extremely proud and terribly anxious at the same time.
“You . . . I . . . what . . .” I sputtered, then blushed. “But you’re my teacher. How can I give you notes?”
“Um, besides all the reasons I just said?” Mi Jin said with a little laugh. “Hey, if it helps, think of this as a critical reading assignment. If you want to read it, of course.”
“I do!” I said quickly. “I want to! I just . . . I don’t know if I’ll be much help.”
“I know you will,” Mi Jin said, beaming. “Thanks!” She gave me a quick hug, then headed back inside Lidia’s room. I walked slowly down the hall to my room, hugging the screenplay to my chest and feeling all warm inside.
I was just sliding my key card through the lock when I heard the ping of the elevator on the other end of the hall. I glanced over to see Dad and Jess stepping off.
“Hey!” I said, pushing the door open but waiting in the hall. “Done with the interviews?”
“Yup!” Jess said cheerfully. “Got some great stuff.” She headed into Lidia’s room, but Dad said, “I’ll be right there,” and continued down the hall toward me. At the sight of his expression, my good mood vanished.
“Is something wrong?”
Dad didn’t answer, just gestured for me to enter our room. Once we were inside, he exhaled slowly, then pulled out his phone.
“Your mother e-mailed me,” he said. “She’s pretty upset about this.” He held his phone out, and I saw some Facebook status update my mom had written about her wedding. Then I noticed the first comment below it. A comment from me.
Your real daughter will be home soon. And I’ll never leave you again.
My jaw dropped. “I didn’t write that.”
Dad tilted his head. “Do you think your account was hacked?” He said it like he was ready to believe me if I said yes, which made me feel even worse. Because it had been hacked, of course. But by the Thing, so once again, I couldn’t tell the complete truth.
“It must have been, yeah,” I croaked. “Or something. Because I didn’t say that. I would never say that.”
“It’s just that . . .” Dad glanced at the screen and sighed. “Okay, I’ll be honest. Your mother and I are both concerned that this is your way of trying to tell us something that you’re too afraid to just . . . say.”
I blinked, then blinked again. “What?”
“Your real daughter,” Dad read aloud, and I flinched. “Does this mean . . . as opposed to Elena?”
“What?” My mind was so full of the Thing, it took me a minute to register what Dad was implying. “Dad, I don’t care that Mom’s about to have a stepdaughter. I don’t.”
Another lie. Mom doted on Elena like she never had with me, and yes, it bugged me. But I’d never say anything so rude about her; especially not online, where my whole family could see it.
Maybe that showed on my face, because Dad looked disappointed. “And then this part, about never leaving again.” He lowered his phone, and the sadness in his eyes made my throat clench up. “Between this and my contract, I just . . . Kat, do you want to go back to Chelsea for good? To be closer to your mom? Because, sweetie, that’s okay. It won’t hurt my feelings if that’s what you want.”
And he really didn’t look hurt. He just looked so sad. The idea that he thought I’d rather be with Mom than with him hit me so hard, I couldn’t even get out a no. I just burst into tears, burying my face in my hands. Dad immediately wrapped his arms around me, which just made me cry harder. After several minutes of sobbing (and eventually, hiccuping) into his sweater, I pulled away and wiped my nose.
“I don’t,” I said as firmly as I could, but my voice wobbled and cracked. “I swear, I don’t. I want to be here with you.” I walked over to my bed and lay down face-first, unable to look him in the eyes anymore. Exhaustion settled over me like a heavy blanket. Dad was silent for a few seconds.
“Kat?”
“I’m tired,” I croaked into my pillow. “Can we talk about this later?”
Another pause. “Okay. I’ll be down the hall if you need me.”
A few seconds later, I heard the door click closed. I rolled over on my back and stared at the ceiling.
Your real daughter. When I’d first read that, before Dad mentioned Elena, I’d felt like I was on the brink of a realization. I lay still, hoping my brain would finish making the connection. Your real daughter . . . I closed my eyes and saw Laurie in the lobby of the Montgomery, asking for my autograph.
“What did you mean about meeting the real you?”
I sat up in bed, then lunged for my laptop. The Real Kat Sinclair—someone had left a few comments under that name on a Rumorz post and in the forums. It didn’t take me long to find them. The first was on Shelly Mather’s poll about the guest star. You won’t care about any of these idiots once you meet me. And the second was on the forum thread when I’d “confirmed” that my dad was staying on the show next season. I can’t wait to leave this stupid show and go home for good.
I wiped my eyes furiously. Now I knew what the Thing was doing. It was making sure I moved back to Ohio permanently. And it was doing a killer job of it, too. Judging by the heartbroken look on Dad’s face, I wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t telling Jess and the others right now that the next episode would be his last.
Slamming the laptop closed, I sat there and fumed for nearly a minute. The only way to stop the Thing would be to tell Dad about the Thing. Except that wouldn’t work at all, because whether Dad believed me or not—whether he thought I was being tormented by a ghost or just “crazy”—he’d definitely want to leave the show. And if I didn’t tell him about the Thing, he’d just go on believing I was doing and saying all this horrible stuff because I was afraid to tell him I really wanted to be with Mom. Solution: again, Ohio.
No matter what I did, the Thing would win.
I was moving back to Chelsea.