Girl on the Verge by Pintip Dunn

Author:Pintip Dunn [Dunn, Pintip]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2017-05-02T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 26

My heart stops, hanging in the air between beats. Ash and Lanie are right, after all. There really are two of me.

She has my hair. She’s wearing my clothes. Our builds are similar enough that at a glance, she could be me.

My jaw drops, but nothing comes out. No words, at least. Nauseated, I slap a hand over my mouth. Is this some kind of sick joke?

“There you are!” Shelly exclaims, oblivious to my distress. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You would think we didn’t live in the same house. I’ve been dying to show you my new hair.”

She twirls around, and her hair flies into the air in a slow circle. Just like mine does.

The acid climbs up my esophagus.

“Well?” she demands. “What do you think? Khun Yai gave me the name of your salon. Of course, it didn’t take them eight hours to straighten my hair, the way yours did. I guess my chemical bonds just aren’t as stubborn.”

“You, uh, dyed your hair, too.” I gulp the air.

She beams. “I’ve always dreamed of having black hair, ever since I was a little girl. So when the stylist suggested it, I thought, why not? I have a new life now. A new family. Might as well have a new look to match.”

She is so excited, so earnest. It just makes my rage flame higher.

“Your hair looks just like mine. From the back, we could be twins,” I bite out. I pull my vibrating hands through my hair, wishing I could still the shaking in my heart as easily.

Her lips tremble. “Are you mad?”

Yes. I want to rip your goddamn head off. But that’s not going to get me the proof I need to convince Mae to get rid of you.

I roll my shoulders and try to relax. “It’s not like I own this hairstyle. I’m just . . . surprised, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I thought you would be pleased. I admire you so much. You know what they say. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

Once upon a time, I might’ve fallen for the innocent, injured act. Not anymore.

And then, I catch a glimpse of her eyes. And what she did to them. Moving closer, I grab her chin and tilt her face toward the sunlight.

“You have on makeup,” I say flatly.

“Oh, yes. Didn’t you say I should wear more makeup? I put a bunch of concealer and foundation on my scar. Looks better, don’t you think?”

It’s less noticeable, at least, although she can’t cover the jagged edges and discoloration altogether. “I never thought your scar looked bad,” I say. “But that’s not what I’m talking about. It’s your eyes. You look . . . Asian.”

Shelly’s eye makeup is not your typical soft brown applied above the lash. Instead, her eyeliner is dramatic and black, and she’s extended the line past the corners, flipping it at the end to form a perfect cat’s eye. The makeup changes the shape of her eyes. Making them appear tapered at the corners.

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