“Oh,” Olivia said. “Weird. So you’ll do it?”
“I’ll do it.” Ivy grinned.
“In that case, I’d like to propose a toast.” Olivia held up her glass. “To Ivy Vega, my twin sister.”
Ivy raised her lemonade. “To Olivia Abbott, my twin sister.”
They clinked their glasses. And then, at exactly the same moment, Ivy and her sister both laughed. “You suck!” they chorused.
Chapter 4
The next day, Olivia made her way to the science hall bathroom—which Ivy had chosen because it was the least-frequented bathroom in the school—and excitedly arranged her supplies on the counter: Santa Monica spray-on tan, Autumn Day blush, Shimmer lip gloss, Nature’s Sheen hair gel ....
The door opened a crack, and Ivy’s pale face appeared. She slipped inside and pulled a piece of cardboard out of her black patent leather purse.
Olivia’s eyes widened as her sister held up the makeshift sign: OUT OF ORDER.
“You wouldn’t!” Olivia said.
Ivy flashed a devilish smile that said Wanna bet? Opening the door a tiny bit, she screwed up her face in concentration and reached around to hang the sign on the doorknob, looking like a safecracker in a heist movie.
“Okay!” Ivy returned, empty-handed. “Make me pink.”
“Not pink. Natural,” Olivia corrected, handing her sister a facial wipe. “Start by taking off your eyeliner.”
In a matter of seconds, the white towelette was blacker than the rag Olivia’s dad used to shine his shoes. “Oh, my gosh, I knew you wore a lot of eyeliner. But this is really—”
Ivy gave her a look.
“Impressive,” Olivia finished and quickly changed the subject. “Anyway, I can’t believe how white your regular skin tone is,” she said, shaking the can of spray-on tan.
Ivy grabbed her wrist. “You are not putting that on my face.”
Olivia sighed and looked her sister in the eye. “Ivy, natural means healthy. It means aglow with life, awash in sunlight. It means you woke up this morning on the beach in California with a hottie feeding you grapes. You need spray-on tan.”
“Brendan Daniels doesn’t like grapes,” Ivy countered frostily. “I know for a fact.”
“Well, this washes off anyway,” Olivia reassured her sister. “And who’s Brendan Daniels?”
Ivy just rolled her eyes. “Spray away.” She sighed, closing her eyes and relaxing her face.
After the spray-on tan, Olivia did Ivy’s blush and lip gloss. It was the eyeshadow that really clinched it, though. Ivy now actually looked like a living person. Olivia ran some gel through her sister’s hair and pulled it back in a ponytail.
“Okay.” She smiled, stepping back and admiring her work. “Let’s switch clothes.” She and Ivy each took a stall. Olivia pulled off her shirt and skirt, folded them neatly, and slipped them underneath the blue metal divider. In return, Ivy passed her a tangled wad of black fabric.
A minute later, Olivia opened the stall door and stood looking at herself in the mirror. A floorlength, black lace skirt was so not her style. Then again, she did like the way it was slit up the side. Actually, she’d like to try it with her green silk top and a pair of black heels.
Suddenly, the stall door beside her opened. Olivia watched her sister take in their reflections. Ivy’s eyes shifted back and forth—Olivia wondered for a moment whether Ivy was having trouble remembering which reflection was her own—before settling on the girl in the denim skirt and the pink wrap top.
“Pretty awesome, huh?” Olivia said.
A totally horrified look spread over Ivy’s face. “I never thought I’d look like . . .” she began hoarsely.
Uh-oh, Olivia thought.
“Charlotte Brown!” Ivy’s face burst into a smile.
“Shut up!” Olivia cried. “I do not look like Charlotte Brown!” She threw a cosmetic sponge at her sister’s head in mock anger, but Ivy batted it away just in time.