Now That You're Here (Duplexity, Part I) by Amy K. Nichols Page B

is. I mean, they’re fine. They love me. They don’t beat me or anything.” She gasps, and a hand flies to her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
    It takes me a second to make the connection. “It’s okay. It’s the other Danny you’d be apologizing to.” What’s crazy is I’d pretty much forgotten about the foster family. “So, how’s it look?”
    She sweeps my bangs to one side and then back. “Bizarre.”
    “Bizarre, but better?”
    “Getting there.” She steps around behind me again and combs through what’s left of The Hair. “Actually…Hang on.”
    She rushes off and returns just as quickly with a container of green goop, which she slicks through my hair.
    “So, if I’m here, who took my place there?” I try to picture some other me, living in my house, sleeping in my bed. “They’d notice if he’s different, right?”
    “You’re different than the other Danny.”
    “My parents must be totally freaked-out.”
    “Your girlfriend, too.”
    “No girlfriend.” I look at her out the corner of my eye. “Boyfriend?”
    She scoffs. “As if.” Then circles around to my right side. Her voice goes quiet. “Tell me about her.”
    “Who?”
    “Eevee Solomon.”
    I exhale, choosing what to say. “Her hair is long and dark, like yours. Same eyes. Same smile.” What I don’t say: great kisser, legs impossibly long. I close my eyes, reliving that night again in my mind. “I hardly know her, but when I met her, it’s like I wanted time to stop.”
    I feel a hand on my shoulder and open my eyes. She’s looking at me intently, her hair falling around her face. I reach up, tuck one side behind her ear, let my fingers touch her jaw. Her lips part and a smile tugs the corner of her mouth.
    Then she blinks and inhales. Lifts her hand from my shoulder. “I…” Her voice cracks. She steps back, sets the scissors on the counter and walks toward the door.
    “Eevee, wait.”
    She doesn’t stop, though. Doesn’t even turn. The door closes and she’s gone.

He calls my name, but I let the door shut behind me and walk-run back home. Mom’s sitting at the computer with her phone to her ear. She doesn’t see me.
    Just like he didn’t see me. Not really. He was looking into my eyes, but in his mind he was seeing her.
    Why does that bother me?
    I slam the door, flop onto my bed and curl up on my side. My heart pounds in my ears.
    The idea of me and Danny is absurd. Nothing good would come of us being together. That’s the truth of the matter. Just look at Mom and Dad.
    When I was a kid—maybe four or five years old—I watched my parents dancing. I don’t remember where we were, and I’ve never asked. I don’t want them to spoil it. In my memory, there are trees with twinkling lights and candles on tables. Mom’s dress swishes around as she and Dad sway in circles. He holds her right hand like it’s a delicate thing, and his left arm is wrapped around her waist. He tucks her hand against his chest and she rests her chin on his shoulder. Their eyes are closed.
    They were together. They were happy. And now look at them, ten years later.
    Who’s to say the same thing wouldn’t happen to me and Danny. If.
    I roll on my back and stare at the ceiling.
    Still, it would be nice for him to look at me like that, the way he looks at the other Eve.
    Enough. This is stupid. I have work to do.
    I push myself off the bed, tuck in my earbuds and douse my brain with Bach. Time to get busy. Time to review those physics notes. I read Faraday’s law of induction from the textbook out loud.
    “ ‘The induced electromotive force in any closed circuit is equal to the negative of the time rate of change of the magnetic flux through the circuit.’ ”
    Three times I read it, but the words are just noise. I close my eyes and see him looking at me, feel his hand touching my face.
    Focus, Eevee. You need to get this. You need to nail the grades, lock in the GPA, make it into the right college, the right