Amber has always been more popular. It’s been like this since we were born. Despite being identical twins, mom’s friends would always compliment on how “cute” she was or how “beautiful” she was becoming. Meanwhile, I would be sitting not two feet from her in a matching outfit looking the exact same and get nothing. But that’s just how it is for us. She gets all the spotlight and I'm in the shadows, ignored by all. After time, I grew to accept that fact, and played into it more. While Amber would wear tight clothing to accentuate the body that matched mine in physique, I started wearing baggy sweatshirts and long skirts to hide it. She would get all the boys and I would repel them. That was just how our life went, until recently.

It was the fall of our senior year. The leaves were turning shades of crimson, orange, and lemon and the air was getting chilly. I pulled a mustard yellow sweater over my dark blue tank top before opening my pastel lemon curtains and letting light in. I instantly regretted it, light blinding my eyes, so I immediately shut them. Feeling slightly disoriented, I stumbled over to my backpack, kicking my telescope in the process. “SHIT!” I hissed, diving to catch it before the expensive piece of equipment hit the hardwood floor below it. I crashed onto the floor, the telescope landing on top of my chest, knocking any air left in me out. The commotion caused Amber to burst through the door, wearing the shortest shorts I’ve ever seen, along with a skin-tight long sleeve crop top with a boob window. We definitely got our mother’s figure, which Amber loves and I… well it works when figure skating but that’s about it.

“Why are you being so damn loud Bea?” she snapped, leaning forward and allowing me to notice the eyeliner she was applying went from her left eye to her ear. Clearly, she had been startled by the noise. “I swear to god I don’t have time for this!”

“You don’t believe in God” I responded back, gaining a glare that could kill before she stomped away, eye pencil still in hand not even a slight motion to help me or my telescope up off the floor. Sister of the year, I am aware. Her and I have never really gotten along, mainly due to the massive ego she gained from all of the attention. I mean, she’s pretty, so I understand why she’s become this way. Hell, we’re basically spitting images of our mother: tan skin, pale yellow-ish eyes, and a figure like that of an hourglass. The only difference that really sets us apart is our dirty blonde hair. Her ego, though, was far beyond our mom’s who, as a politician, had a big one. I picked myself off the floor and set my beautiful piece of equipment back in its place before grabbing my dark blue star-covered backpack and heading out.

Moments later, I arrived in our kitchen. Standing by the toaster with a butter knife in hand was our butler, Damien. Both Amber and I knew that he was “secretly” sleeping with our mom, but we chose to ignore it. He sadly was not the first one. “Good morning, Beatrice” he beamed, holding out a plate with two pieces of toast and pineapple cut like stars and moons, “I was just about to summon you for breakfast. Is your sister up yet?”

“Yeah, she’s fixing a disaster” I responded, taking my seat at the very long dining table. That was our codeword for Amber being dramatic. Despite my mother’s fling with him, I got along quite well with him. He was closer to us in age than our mom. We’d talk about nerdy things as Amber would groan on the way to school, asking why she didn’t just have her own car. “You failed your driving test 8 times” I would respond every time. Then she would pout and Damien and I would continue our conversation. I had my license but I took the car every day solely so I could torture her. It was my one moment of the day where I had the upper hand. “Do anything fun last night?” I asked Damien in between bites of toasted bread. I caught him mid-sip of water, causing him to choke. That gave me all the info I needed. Quietly, I returned to my breakfast. It was quiet until Amber burst down the archway practically. It seemed that messing up her makeup really set her down the path of rampage. The popular act will be up in an hour when we walk through the doors of our school, where people are none the wiser about how Amber Butterville truly acts. She grabbed her toast that had gone cold from her taking so long and sat down across from me. The mirror sitting in front of me scanned over me from head to toe, silently judging me. Well, not too silently as a few moments later, she sneered “could you have at least tried to not embarrass me?” She was referring to my baggy sweater, long jeans, and shoes that were far more than used. “You can’t even do your hair cute. You look identical to me, so at least try to dress somewhat decently”. Amber reached across the table and pulled on one of my long braids, forcing a reaction of pain from me.

“OW! What the hell?” I responded, swatting away her hand before retrieving my braid and holding it close. 

“What? I’m only saying what I’m thinking. Didn’t mom always tell us to be truthful?” She smirked and I looked away. She always pulled the mom card when she was trying to excuse her actions. After all, our mom does the same thing. Like mother, like daughter? Not every daughter, as it turns out. About ten minutes passed with Amber eating and me slowly poking at my pineapple stars. Damien broke the awkward silence, his thick dark hair sliding into my peripheral vision to tap me on the shoulder. 

As I looked up to him, he smiled lightly. “Time to head to school Beatrice”. I wondered why he only told me and not Amber. What I hadn’t realized was that I had been zoning and my sister had already headed for the car. I thanked him with a nod before heading to the car. I hated the name Beatrice. It reminded me of how much I was hated by my mom from day one. Amber had gotten a pretty name because she was the first one, but then I was the unwanted one, and so she gave me an old person’s name out of spite. That’s why I chose to go by-

“BEA!” I heard my name be called from a far-off direction not too long after I stepped outside. I looked up into the illuminated fall sky to see a guy jogging over. I stood there, knowing that he would come to me, and waved slightly. The tall guy finally approached me, standing taller than my six-foot body, making me feel short- a feeling I don’t get to experience very often. Standing before me was a childhood friend of Amber and I, Kahoni Haukea. His dark Polynesian skin dripped with sweat as he tried to catch his breath. I blushed slightly at his acknowledgment of me, since he was one of the few who could actually see past my sister to me in the shadows. “Ha… ha… good morning!” His smile was almost as blinding as the sky above us. “Heading… to school?

“Y-yeah” I stammered. I was still taken aback by him even talking to me in the first place, despite it being years. I remember when he first moved in down the street. We were 8. I remember that day because it was the first time I was kissed. I mean, he kissed me as a greeting, but it was still shocking! Then his dad reprimanded him for it, and he cried. An eventful day indeed. “Are you going to be late?”

“Potentially. Gotta take a quick shower and change. I just wanted to say high since I saw you. I don’t see you very often since you’re always off in the library or training. You’re like a phantom” he laughed before ruffling my hair. My blush spread to my ears, which were already pink from the brisk air washing over us.

Amber screeched from the car, “BEA GET YOUR ASS IN HERE. PEOPLE ARE EXPECTING ME TO BE AT SCHOOL EARLY”. I rolled my eyes and looked at the boy in front of me. He shrugged. He knew my sister all too well.

“The queen calls” he said before waving and jogging off. I sighed, tired from the social interaction, and walked to the car.

I slid into my seat, not saying a word. She didn’t look at me, as she was too engrossed in her phone. “Lovebirds” she sneered, posing for a selfie. I rolled my eyes and turned my face to the window as the car rolled out of the driveway.

“No way,” I said quietly. There was no way a popular guy like him would like me at all. Never.