On the Brink of Paris by Elizabeth Cody Kimmel

Tim. And then I saw it. If you dyed Lindy’s hair brown, removed the makeup, made her eat a few sandwiches, stuck her in a dark T-shirt, and removed some freckles…well, they weren’t exactly twins, but I could see the family resemblance.
    â€œBut that’s—that’s—”
    â€œLindy Sloane,” said Lindy Sloane. “Duh.”
    â€œHow? Why? How?” I demanded. “Tim, this is simply unreal!”
    â€œSlick, T,” Lindy said. “You’re going to have to change schools again.” She pulled off her big hat, shook her newly blond curls dramatically, and plopped the hat back onto her head. I tried not to look, but this was the closest I’d ever been to Hollywood glamour, and I didn’t want to miss anything.
    â€œChange schools?” I asked.
    Tim sighed.
    â€œLast year, right after Lindy hit it big, some kids at my old school figured out she was my sister. I’d only been there a year.”
    â€œI was eighteen. I already had my own condo in L.A.,” Lindy said, making a pouty, camera-friendly face.
    â€œAnd the word got out, and I was, like, mobbed,” Tim continued.
    â€œSloane Rangers?” I asked, using a concerned look favored by famous television reporters.
    â€œYeah, they were the worst. Suddenly everyone wanted to be my best friend. Everyone followed me around. All these girls called me. They stopped by unannounced. It was all, like, Lindy this and Lindy that. These people didn’t even have tact, man. They didn’t even try to pretend theyweren’t using me to get to Lindy.”
    â€œUntil—” Lindy interjected, possibly because it was not her nature to stray from center stage for too long.
    â€œUntil the straw that broke the camel’s back,” Tim said. “One day these three girls stopped by, you know, like they’re interested in me. And one of them sneaks upstairs into the bathroom and opens the linen closet, and she steals this old retainer of Lindy’s that’s still in there with her name printed on the case. And I found out about it three days later when the thing comes up for auction on eBay! Lindy Sloane’s retainer, orthodontist verified.”
    Ouch.
    â€œStarting bid was seventy-five dollars,” Lindy said. “It sold for two hundred and twenty.”
    â€œSame thing happened at sailing camp that summer,” Tim continued. “This is all the way up in Maine, okay, so I figured nobody knew who I was. But somehow the word got out, and the next thing I know, somebody rips off two letters from my mother—my mother ! And they set up this little booth and charged a buck a pop for kids to see the actual handwriting of Lindy Sloane’s mom. A buck fifty if you wanted to hold the letter yourself.”
    â€œOver one hundred customers, and more turned away,” Lindy added.
    â€œSo…your last name is Sloane ?” I asked Tim.
    â€œNo, and neither is hers,” Tim said. “Her real name isLinda Mildred Dorfman.”
    â€œShut up, worm!” Lindy shouted, swatting Tim on the arm with her enormous Balenciaga purse. For the first time they actually acted like siblings. But only for a minute. Then Lindy regained her star composure, whipped off her gigantic sunglasses, and stared at me with intense, heavily made-up eyes.
    â€œWell, you know, I don’t have to tell anyone,” I said.
    Wait. I didn’t? What was I saying?
    â€œYeah, right,” said Tim.
    â€œIs this why you’re so…I mean, you never, ever talk to anybody. It’s like this big mystery at school. That you never, you know, speak .”
    â€œTalking leads to conversations, which lead to questions, which lead to people figuring out who my sister is, which leads to the ruination of my life,” said Tim. “It’s better just not to know anyone at all.”
    Gee, he was actually opening up a little.
    â€œI keep telling you to move to L.A. with