Chapter Fourteen

August 20X6, Keystone

“We’re going to have to cut it.” Sophia stands behind Chloe, who sits on a yellow chair in front of Sophia’s dorm room desk. “It’s too much work to do wigs all the time and shorter hair is better for quick-change disguises anyway.” She brushes back Chloe’s long waves.

I watch from my vantage point on Harbor’s—Chloe’s roommate’s—bed across the room and lean forward, awaiting Chloe’s reaction. Her hair is her pride and joy and I can’t imagine her cutting it. “We both had long hair six months ago when we were on the grid in San Francisco, too,” I say. “So, it would be good to make us look as different from that as possible.”

To her credit, Chloe’s features remain flat, and I suspect she doesn’t want to give me the satisfaction of seeing her sweat.

Squaring her jaw, she nods. “Do it. It’s for the good of humanity, right?” She makes eye contact with my reflection in the mirror. “I think we should make her eyebrows look like mine, though.”

“Fine by me.” I shrug, knowing she’s making the ultimate sacrifice.

“Okay. Here we go.” Sophia ties Chloe’s hair back in a ponytail before raising her scissors.

Chloe keeps her chin up. She doesn’t flinch as Sophia hacks off her hair in five efficient chops, though I imagine she wants to cry.

“You can save it and use it as a clip-on extension.” Sophia hands over what used to be Chloe’s luxuriant ponytail.

“Thank you.” Chloe’s mouth remains a thin line as she places her hair in her lap.

Sophia fluffs out Chloe’s jagged hair then deftly finishes the cut. I watch for a sign that Chloe’s stoic mask is going to falter, but her lips don’t quiver, and she doesn’t blink. I have to admit she’s a pro and there is some comfort in going undercover with her. She’s unlikely to stumble or break character no matter what emotions come up.

When Sophia finishes, she places Harbor’s yellow chair next to Chloe’s. “Your turn, Elisha.”

I sit next to Chloe and stare at our faces in the mirror, unable to fathom how Sophia can transform us into twins. To me, we look nothing alike. Hair and eye color can easily change, but my face is oval while hers is square with a more defined jaw and sculpted cheekbones. She’s taller and definitely curvier.

Sophia sweeps my choppy blond hair back from my cheeks. She tips her head to the side and squints at Chloe and my reflections in the mirror. “This is too short. We’re going to have to give you extensions, Elisha,” she mutters to herself.

“Should we figure out which sister is which?” I suggest to Chloe, trusting Sophia can work magic. “We’re going to be here awhile, so, we might as well get to work.”

“I should probably be the flirty one.” Chloe examines her cuticles. “You be the reserved one. I don’t want you to have to stretch too much.”

“I agree. We should definitely play to our strengths.” I grind my teeth and it’s all I can do to keep from rolling my eyes. Decoy.

“Okay. Here’s the plan.” Sophia holds up a ring with hair color swatches and pulls out a soft peachy-rose-coral color. “Your hair will finish just above your shoulders in beachy waves and we’ll create some dimension with blood orange lowlights. It’ll be pretty with your new skin tone. For that, I’ll match you to each other with foundation. Elisha, we’ll contour your face to give you more definition and use highlighter at the end of your nose to make it look like it turns up more. And then with a few injections, we can match your lips. We’ll thin out your eyebrows and I think with all of that, we’ll get pretty close to identical. At least close enough to fool the human eye, anyway. Sound good?”

“Good,” we both agree, and I try to hide my skepticism and keep my expression neutral.

“I’m going to start with your extensions, then, Elisha.” Sophia combs my hair back off my forehead. “Do you think you guys should be British? I feel like it’s better if you have an accent.”

“Can you do that?” Chloe tilts her head toward me, affecting a perfect English lilt.

“Of course, I can.” Puckering my lips, I match her tone perfectly.

Sophia sections my hair and starts knotting the extensions to my hair roots.

“But I think we should do something different. British is too easy.” I switch accents mid-sentence. “How about Irish?”

Chloe studies me for a moment before half-heartedly shrugging. “Cute,” she says, nailing an Irish intonation.

“I love that.” Sophia’s eyes are wide. “And you know what we can do? We can add some freckles. I’ll make temporary tattoos that won’t wash off without a special serum, so you can wear them the whole time. And don’t tell anyone this, but I’ve been working on nanochip glitter freckles that can scramble FR recognition. We can program them to make the FR cameras read you as twins and connect you to the profiles Stewart and Rayelle upload for you.”

A buoyant jolt dips in my belly. “That’s brilliant, Sophia,” I say, practicing my Irish accent. “Did you learn that in makeup school over the summer?”

“No. I came up with it on my own.” Sophia waves me off, like it’s no big deal. “I figure, if you can code a manicure, why not a freckle? We have to keep innovating if we want to win the war against the Super Brain and I think beauty tech is an untapped industry.”

I gawk at Sophia’s image in the mirror, astounded by her.

“And, in case you need to go off grid—or be read as someone else—we can program the freckles to read as another face, too.” Sophia grins, tying the last extension into my hair. “All set, Elisha. Now for the cut.” She sends me to the bathroom to wash my hair.

“Okay. So, we’re Irish,” Chloe says when I return. “What are our names?”

“I’m Kerri and you’re my sister Cara.” Retaking my seat, I choose the first names that come to my mind. My mom played an Irish character named Cara once and I choose Kerri based on the actress who played Andy in The Goonies. It’s ridiculous that I know that, but I spent a lot of time alone as a kid and memorizing movie trivia was one of my favorite pastimes. I can’t be sure, but “Kerri” sounds Irish to me.

“Works for me.” Chloe leans back in her chair and puts her feet up on Sophia’s desk.

“And who are you going to be, Sophia?” I ask her reflection.

“I have no idea.” Sophia bites her lip as she trims the ends of my hair so they finish in a blunt edge that matches Chloe’s. “But I’ll figure something out. Let’s get you two set first. You’re Laborers, so you could be studying to be teachers or engineers. What made you want to be scientists?”

“Ugh. Our dad is making us do it.” Chloe perks up. A conspiratorial glimmer enters her eyes, and she morphs into Cara. “So boring.”

“Maybe Dad is making you do it.” Picturing myself as Kerri, as a Laborer who believes it’s possible life has more to offer her, I sit up straight and practice my Irish lilt. “But I’ve always been interested in the human brain and how it works. I hope to research and help write code for nanobots that will cure brain illness at lesser cost so all people can enjoy a long and happy life—not just the Corporates and Influencers that can afford it.” I rush the words, clutching my fingers hopefully and getting a feel for who Kerri is. “I’d love to invent a product that’s accessible to everyone, that I could use to graduate to Maker status.”

Chloe/Cara sits up and rolls her eyes. “You’re too ambitious. Do you know how impossible it is to move up in this world? You’d have better luck meeting a cute Maker boy—or girl—and convincing them to marry you than inventing and marketing a product. But I know you won’t give up.” She tousles her new wavy hair, admiring herself in the mirror before raising her gaze to Sophia’s. “She never does.”

That’s right.

“You guys are great at this.” Smiling, Sophia finishes my cut and moves over to Chloe. “I’m going to lift your color, then I’ll apply the peachy-rose toner to both of you.” She adds a scoop of powder to a small bowl and mixes it into a paste with a bristly black brush.

“It feels pretty natural.” I drop the Kerri act, hating to admit that Chloe and I work well together.

“It should.” Chloe’s voice returns to normal. “At base level—we’re probably pretty similar. After all, Garrett has a type.” A wicked smile spreads across her face.

My heart stalls but I keep my tone even. “What do you mean by that? There was never anything going on with me and Garrett,” I lie.

Sophia presses her lips together, averting her interest in our back and forth and concentrating on painting the paste onto Chloe’s roots.

“Oh, please.” Chloe laughs. “At the very least he has similar taste in partners.”

“But you were never his partner.”

“Not in a heist, but we were partners in other ways.” Her lips contort as she touches her chin to her chest so Sophia can paint the paste into the back of her hair.

“How so?” The room spins and I brace myself for her answer, for what truth she might reveal.

“We used to hang out all the time. We’d eavesdrop on professors, stay up late debating our top ten heist rankings—stuff like that. He was always a little hard to get close to—he hid behind his charm—but we planned for him to pick me as his partner, until you came along.” She snorts. “And his parents put him in charge of babysitting you.”

Sophia gives me a ‘don’t-let-her-get-to-you’ look in the mirror as she finishes painting Chloe’s hair and starts mixing the toner for mine.

I know Sophia is right, but it’s too late. A lump forms in my throat. “He told you that?”

“He did.” Chloe juts out her lower lip in mock pity. “But I understood. It’s all for the cause.” She bares her perfect teeth. “And he’s been keeping in touch, sending pigeons with notes written in our own secret language. It’s really cute.”

He has a secret language with her, too? A shudder runs down my spine. Did I ever know him at all?

I grip my jumpsuit where the tiger’s eye is pinned inside, remembering Allard said in ancient Egypt it was thought to increase perception, but the answer that inserts itself in my brain is the same as it always is. Yes. I knew him. I still can’t reconcile my deep desire to believe in him even though he played me, while every ounce of me recoils from Chloe. The fact is, no matter how I feel, Garrett lied to me. Maybe something is wrong with my intuition. Maybe I need to believe the opposite of what my instincts tell me, starting with giving Chloe the benefit of the doubt. I’ve never heard her side of the story and it’s possible my blind allegiance to Garrett is compromising my opinion of her. There could be some truth to her story. I mean, how could she know what she knows if she’s not telling the truth?

At the same time, I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she just drove a knife into my gut, so I play along, pretending we’re BFFs. “That is cute.”

“And he told me he’s undercover at Stanford.” Her eyes shine. “Wouldn’t it be fun if we ran into him?”

My stomach heaves and I would love nothing more than to take a hot shower and wash away her insinuations, but I reply through my own fake smile. “It would be a blast.”