Doppelganger

chapter SIX

“Chris!” Echo called. “Amber’s here!”

“Thanks,” I hollered back, but I was already halfway down the hall. I’d been watching from my bedroom window, and the second I saw her headlights in the driveway, I was headed for the door. The last thing I wanted was for her to come inside and get into a conversation with Barry and Sheila. Not that that was likely. Barry was sacked out in front of the TV on his fifth beer, and Sheila was on the phone, murmuring in desperate tones to whomever. As for Echo, I still wasn’t sure what she was all about. She just seemed to wander around the house doing nothing in particular.

“Are you gonna kiss?” she asked me with a devilish grin as I threw my jacket on and reached for the front door.

I paused. The possibility of something like that happening hadn’t even occurred to me until she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Oh.” She seemed somewhat taken aback. “Well, have fun.”



“Thanks,” I said, and headed out into the dark.

Amber didn’t really look at me as I went around the front of the car and got in on the passenger’s side. Her car was nice—a lot nicer than Barry’s or Sheila’s, and ten times better than Steve’s.

“Hi,” I said.

She glanced at me for a second, then backed out of the driveway, and we took off.

“So you still want to go to this stupid party, huh?” she said.

“Sure,” I said, gripping the handle above the window to steady myself as we took a corner. Amber was driving really fast. At every curve I could feel my stomach nuzzle up against one side of my rib cage or the other and hang there for a few seconds even after we’d straightened out. I could hardly keep track of where we were going. I glanced over at her for a second. In the glow of the dashboard, her face seemed softer, sort of muted and almost sad, as if she were letting go, drawn into the speed. When she looked at me, the sharpness came back.

“What’s the matter, Chris?” she said, sort of smirking.

“Nothing,” I said, my other hand squeezing at the plush of the seat as the engine revved up on the straightaway. “You’re going a little fast there, aren’t you?”

“Isn’t that how you like it?”

“Okay,” I said. I didn’t care—I just wanted her to get her eyes back on the road.

“Are you scared?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.

She slowed down. I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Who would’ve thought?” she said.



We pulled up to a big house with lots of cars in front of it and got out. I remember thinking the ground had never felt so good. I also remember thinking that Amber was crazy. In fact, all of them were—Barry, Sheila, Echo, Chris, Coach—human beings were just plain nuts.

I followed Amber up to the house. Even before we got to the front steps I could hear the music. It reminded me of Steve’s car—thump, thump, thump, like the house was some kind of big machine, grinding away. On top of all that was the buzz of voices, of people yelling and laughing, a sound that exploded as the door burst open and some kid ran past us, falling onto the lawn and puking.

Amber was unfazed. “Gross,” was all she said before continuing up the steps.

The party itself was nothing special. In fact, I hated it. As soon as we went in, some girl wearing heavy black eyeliner and way too much lipstick pushed through the crowd, ran up to us, and started babbling in excited tones and kind of jumping up and down. I guessed it was Cheryl, the girl whose party it was. The girl whose house was in the process of being ransacked. She disappeared for a second, then came back with two plastic cups, one blue, one red. She handed them to us and started talking again. I had no clue what she was saying—the music was so loud, I couldn’t hear anything. While she blathered on, I took a sniff of the drink and recoiled. It was some kind of booze. It wasn’t whiskey like the old man and Chris had been drinking, but it reminded me of them. I tried not to think about it and concentrated instead on pretending to understand whatever Cheryl was saying. I nodded and smiled and, when it seemed like the right time, said things I couldn’t even hear myself say. Amber did the same in between sips, and every once in a while she’d laugh and so would I, and then so would Cheryl. Somebody was saying something hilarious, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me.

The whole time we were there, it was like that. If it wasn’t Cheryl, then it was someone else stepping up to yammer at us as we threaded our way through the house. It was really hot in there, and the place reeked of alcohol and perfume and sweat. Everyone else seemed to be having a great time, dancing and swaying, swimming in a current of sound as one song blended into the next. Not me. I was drowning. In the dim light, everyone’s faces took on a sinister tone, their smiles twisting into snarls, and for a second I thought I was going crazy. It’s like they were doppelgangers too, slipping in and out of form, unable to hold on. And at any moment they would drop it entirely and so would I, and we would all be left staring at one another, all echoes of our own horrible selves.

The only exception was Amber, who remained composed from the moment she walked in. I kept close to her as we went along, amazed at how the sea of kids seemed to part before her, leaving her untouched by their slog. Even the ones who accosted us with their tipsy party talk held back slightly, as if a force field surrounded us. She had this coolness about her as she downed one drink and somehow ended up with another, and I managed to catch my breath here and there in her wake.

An hour later we were through. I just remember the cool air on my face and the feeling of relief as we exited through the front door and headed back to the car.

“What a lame party,” she said as we climbed in and she started the engine. She didn’t seem to like much of anything, but in this case I couldn’t argue with her.

“Totally,” I said.

“I should get you home,” she said as we pulled back onto the road. She was driving slower now. “You probably want to get to bed early, what with the game tomorrow and all.”

The clock on the dash said 10:15, but I didn’t really feel like rushing back to Barry and Sheila. Besides, I wanted to know more about Amber. We hadn’t exactly had a chance to talk at the party.

“I’m not tired,” I said. “Let’s go to your house.”

She sighed. “Right.”

She didn’t live far away, just a mile or so down the road. Looking out the window, I could tell this neighborhood was pretty different from the Parkers’. The houses were farther apart, not all scrunched together, and they were a lot bigger. Amber’s house was even bigger than Cheryl’s.

As we pulled into the garage, Amber reached over and took a bottle out of the glove compartment. At first I thought she was going for another drink. But it was something else.

“Mouthwash?” she offered, holding out the bottle. I shook my head. “Don’t look so surprised,” she said. “This is your trick, after all.” She took a swig and started swishing like crazy, then she sort of grimaced for a second and swallowed.

“I hate that part,” she said, coughing.

We got out and went into the house. Coming around the corner, I nearly jumped at the sight of Amber’s parents waiting in the bright kitchen, grinning like a pair of hyenas.



“There he is,” her father shouted, coming over and clapping me on the back. “Hope you went easy tonight,” he said, laughing. “Wouldn’t do for the best damn linebacker in the state to be hung over tomorrow, now would it?”

Listening to him talk, all loud and sort of slurry, I got the feeling someone else should have gone easy that night.

“Jim,” Amber’s mother scolded, never losing her grin. “It’s great to see you again, Chris.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Don’t worry, I didn’t have anything to drink tonight.”

“God,” Amber said, “cut it out, Chris. You made the good impression months ago. I mean, Jesus, my parents like you better than they do me.”

“Now sweetie, you know that’s not true,” Amber’s mother said, cocking her head.

“Well, maybe a little bit,” her father said. Her parents looked at each other and burst out laughing, as if it was the most hilarious thing they’d ever heard. No wonder Amber rolled her eyes so much.

After they’d recovered, Amber’s father wrapped his arm around me again. At this point I was almost starting to miss Barry.

“So when are you turning pro, Sport?”

Was this guy for real? “Uh…,” I figured I was supposed to say something clever here. Then again, maybe not.

“Dad,” Amber cut in, “shut up, okay? Just shut up.”

“Hey, just asking. Kid’s got it written all over him. Everybody says so. And you better start being a little nicer to him, or someday you’ll regret it. He just might trade up. Right, Chris?” He slapped me on the back and started laughing again. Then he kind of looked at me and raised his eyebrows like I was supposed to start laughing too. But after the long day, and then that party, all I could muster was a smile.

“Look, Connie—kid’s already got his game face on for tomorrow. That says it all right there. Well, good for you, Chris.”

“Come on, let’s go,” Amber said. She grabbed my arm and started dragging me toward the staircase. I looked back at them as we left.

“Good luck tomorrow,” Amber’s mother said, waving good-bye. “We’ll be watching.”

“Give them a good beating,” Jim added, raising his fists and jabbing the air a few times. They both started laughing again.

“What a jerk,” Amber said as we reached the top of the stairs.

“Your dad really seems to like football,” I said.

“Yeah. He’s a real fan.”

We went into her bedroom and closed the door. Unlike Chris’s bedroom, the walls of Amber’s room were loaded with pictures, posters, postcards, and collages. It seemed like every square foot of space was covered with something. And then there was the nightstand, the dresser, the desk, the makeup table, even the bed—everything was loaded with stuff. Candles, dolls, coffee cups, bottles of hair products and moisturizers, papers, books, CDs, ceramic figurines—you name it, she had it. The only thing missing was a TV. It reminded me more of Echo’s room. I don’t know, maybe it’s a girl thing.



While I looked around, Amber went to her computer.

“What are you doing?” I asked. I’d never used a computer before, and Chris didn’t have one. None of the Parkers did.

“Checking e-mail,” she murmured, staring at the screen. She was typing furiously.

“That’s right.” I’d heard of that. “You’ve got mail!” I said.

She looked at me sort of funny, then went back to typing. When she finished, she got up and started walking around the room, taking off her earrings, picking up clothes, stuff like that. I just sat on the bed watching her. We didn’t talk. It was like I wasn’t even there, like she’d forgotten all about me. I tried to think of something to say, but nothing came to mind. I was happy enough just watching her, remembering how she’d been at the party, drifting and smiling through the crowd like she was a queen among peasants or something. And here I was, in the queen’s own chamber, in the inner sanctum. But this queen didn’t smile, at least not at me.

For some reason I suddenly remembered the scene from Macbeth today. That strange moment after the murder with the two of them, Macbeth and Lady Macbeth, fumbling around in the dark, Macbeth utterly paralyzed by horror at his deed, and Lady Macbeth seeming cool and annoyed by her husband’s weakness, but really just as scared. I could tell they weren’t a happy couple. And after today I got the feeling we weren’t, either. At least the Macbeths were bonded by their crime. What did Amber and Chris have?

I looked up and realized she was gone. Light shone around the partially closed door of the bathroom. Then the light clicked off. The door opened and out came Amber in her bra and panties.

When she looked at me, her face was blank. Or maybe just resigned. Either way, she looked nothing like the picture I had of her at home.

For a moment I didn’t say anything. I just sat frozen at the edge of the bed, trying not to stare.

“Not the usual reaction,” she said. She didn’t sound disappointed. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I mean, it’s what you came here for isn’t it?”

I jumped up and almost lost my balance. My heart was pounding so hard, for a moment I felt like I was back in Cheryl’s house.

“What about your parents?” I sputtered.

She frowned. “What do you mean? They’ll have another cocktail and go to bed.”

“What if they came in?”

“They know better.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and shifted into a slouch. “And so do you. What’s the problem?”

“Nothing,” I said. I sat down on the edge of the bed again. I could hardly look at her, and the fact that I wanted to made me look away even more. None of it made sense. Suddenly I didn’t like being in the queen’s chamber—the whole thing was too complicated. I was in way over my head.

“Not as exciting when it’s given to you, is that it?” she sneered. “Takes all the fun out of it?”

I didn’t know what she meant by that, but I knew it wasn’t good. I looked up at her. Before I knew it, I’d just sort of blurted it out.



“You don’t like me, do you,” I said.

She frowned again. “We’re a perfect couple. Isn’t that what everybody says?”

I didn’t say anything. I just wanted her to go back in the bathroom and put some clothes on.

“You’re a miserable son of a bitch,” she said finally. “How’s that?”

“Okay,” I said, “then why are you still with me?”

“Since when do you care?”

“Just answer the question,” I said. I don’t know why, but I was starting to get irritated.

She didn’t say anything for a moment, but her face kept changing, passing from confusion to anger, before settling into loathing. It was the same kind of look I’d seen on Chris’s face before he attacked me that night—loathing not for me, but for himself.

“Are we going to do it or not?” she said at last.

“No!” I said, jumping up. “Jesus Christ!”

She shrugged, then picked her bathrobe up off the floor and put it on. She went and sat back at her desk, taking the barrette out of her hair and giving her head a shake. She looked sad all of a sudden. Even after everything she’d said, I wanted to make her feel better. I couldn’t leave without trying.

“Maybe we could start over,” I suggested.

Big mistake. I saw her stiffen. Then she turned and looked at me and laughed in this way that made me wish I could just sort of disappear.

“Are you kidding me?” she said. “After all the shit you’ve pulled, you think we can just ‘start over?’” She shuddered. “You’re so clueless, it makes me sick.”



Well, she was right about that.

“Sorry,” I said.

She got up from the chair and came over to me. “Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it, so don’t even try. It won’t work, Chris.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay, okay,” she said, mocking me. “Come on, Chris. You may fool everybody else, but you can’t fool me.”

“What do you mean?” I said. She was in my face now and starting to freak me out with all her talk. I could feel my heart pounding, even harder than when she’d walked out in her underwear.

“I know who you are. Who you really are,” she hissed. “You’re a f*cking monster!”

“Shut up!” I hollered. Before I knew it, I’d reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders. She pulled away from me and shrank back against the bathroom door, covering her head with both her hands like she knew what was coming. I just kind of froze over her. I could hear myself breathing, huffing in that same weird sort of way Chris had done by the fire.

She sank to the floor and started crying.

“Go ahead,” she said. “Do it. I don’t care.”

I turned and rushed from the room, down the stairs, through the empty kitchen, still bright with lights, and out of the house. Before I’d even left the driveway, I broke into a run.

I didn’t know where the hell I was going, and I didn’t care. I just kept running. And the whole time, I kept seeing Amber crouching at my feet, shielding herself, and thinking, She’s right. She’s right. I am a monster. I couldn’t tell who I hated more—Chris, for whatever he’d done to Amber to make her act that way, or myself. Forget Chris, I thought. I’m just as bad. I’m worse. At least he was real. At least he never killed anyone.

As the hours passed, I forgot about the words echoing in my brain and just felt lonely. It was cold and the stars were out as I drifted through town with everyone asleep. I’d never felt so alone, not even when I’d left the cabin or when I’d walked in the train yard thinking about my mother.

Just as the eastern sky began to lighten and turn the world blue, I found my street. I crossed the tall, frost-coated lawn and let myself in, went straight to my room, threw off my clothes and collapsed onto Chris’s bed. But as exhausted as I was, I couldn’t sleep. I just started replaying the night’s drama in my head.

So much for my first date.