“No.”

I shook my head as I planted my feet firmly on the car’s floor, sending an incredulous look in my sister’s direction.  Arabelle smiled devilishly, nodding her head as though that was going to change my mind.  But I wasn’t.  No, not when we were sitting in a parking lot filled with little kids running around.  No.  Just the thought in itself was ridiculous.  And obnoxious.       

I wasn’t going to do it.  No way.

“Yes,” Arabelle replied, smiling brightly.  She threw open her door and hopped out.  “Let’s go!”

I grumbled under my breath, opening my door and stepping outside.  Caroline, who’d been sentenced to the backseat, exited the car as well, crossing her arms over her chest.  “This should be interesting,” she muttered, looking uncomfortable.  She, like me, thought this plan was stupid and shouldn’t be done.

“Come on, Arabelle!” I shrieked, grabbing her arm.  I shot her a pleading look.  “Couldn’t we go to an ice cream place I don’t like?  Like Sandy’s!  I hate Sandy’s.”

Arabelle shook her head, winking at me.  “No,” she drew out, peeling my hand off her arm.  “You’re pretending to be me, aren’t you?  Sandy’s gets my orders right.  Dairy Queen hardly ever does.”

I groaned, slapping my hand to my forehead.  Why did she have to be so literal?  It wasn’t like there was going to be an ice cream place at the delinquent camp.  I was probably going to be deprived of any type of junk food known to humanity.  I’d be stuck eating healthy food like celery, broccoli, and tomatoes.

I froze when a thought crossed my mind: what if I didn’t get to have any peanut butter?

No.  No, no, no.  No!  I was not going to have a peanut-butter-free summer just because my sister didn’t know how to behave.  Nuh-uh.  No way.  It was one thing to take me away from my friends and my free time, but it was a completely different story when peanut butter was involved. 

“Arabelle,” I whined.  “What about my peanut butter rights?  Do they have peanut butter at the camp?”

Arabelle shrugged.  “I don’t know.”  She shot me a comforting look.  “We’ll sneak you some just in case.”

Even though she was suggesting to already be breaking the rules the moment I arrived, the thought of having a stash of peanut butter comforted me.   I sighed, rubbing my arms with my hands and pausing when I caught Caroline staring at me.  “What?”  I asked, my eyebrows rising.

Caroline shook her head, shrugging.  “Nothing, that was just really random.”

I was about to reply, but my voice seemed to have left me.  We’d reached the counter.  The girl taking our order was probably only a year or two older than us.  I wouldn’t be surprised if she went to our school.  Her hair was tied back into small pigtails, hanging loosely from the sides of her head.  She was the definition of innocent-looking with her big brown eyes and child-like face.  I couldn’t act rude to someone like her!

Arabelle ordered her ice cream with a tone that I would have used before stepping back to stand next to me.  She grinned, jabbing me in the ribs and muttering a quick, “Come on, Falice, take your order!”

I grumbled profanities about her under my breath before stepping up to take my order.  I glanced back at Arabelle before taking a deep breath.  “I want a twist with hot fudge drizzled over the top—I mean drizzled.  Don’t drown it.  Instead of a cherry, I want a bunch of peanut butter cops on top, and then I want sprinkles.  In that order.”  I smiled sweetly before stepping away, trying to ignore the tight knot unfurling in my stomach.

I could not believe I’d just done that.

I felt so nasty inside.  And I hadn’t even done the worst part yet—pretending she messed up my order even if she didn’t.  I didn’t want to do this.  I didn’t want to be Arabelle.  I wasn’t like her at all.  I didn’t feed off of people’s anger or irritation.  I didn’t enjoy giving people a hard time just to amuse myself.  I liked to be nice to people, to have people trust me. 

Arabelle didn’t seem at all fazed by my horrible behavior.  She smiled brightly, wrapping her arm around me and squeezing.  “You’re doing great!” she whispered.

Doing great?

I took a deep breath, willing my hatred for this to fade away.  I needed to get into the act.  I had to embrace this or I wasn’t going to make it through the summer.  I needed to be able to handle this.  Otherwise, who knew who would take advantage of me there? 

A moment later I was being handed ice cream.  I sucked in a breath, looking down at it.  I almost sighed in relief when I saw that they had mixed up the order.  They’d given me chocolate ice cream, a cherry, and no sprinkles were present.  That, at least, would make this easier.

“Hey!” I screeched, stomping forward and slamming my ice cream onto the counter.  “This is not what I ordered.”

The girl who took my order was petrified.  “I—I’m sorry.  I can fix it—”

“Fix it?” I hissed.  “Fix it?  How could you possibly fix this?  I told you a twist, not chocolate.  And where are the sprinkles?  And on top of that, you gave me a cherry!  Now that taste has contaminated my ice cream!”

I could feel the stares of everyone around me.  Little kids had stopped playing, parents had paused from eating, their spoons mid-air.  I tried my best to ignore them, though.  Their stares would only embarrass me and I’d stop what I was doing.

The girl looked around at her co-workers trying to think of what to do.  “Miss, I—”

“You should be fired!” I forced myself on.  “If you can’t even make something as simple as an ice cream, what hope do you have in life?  You’re probably going to end up on the streets when you’re older with no job.”

For the grand finale I chucked the ice cream into the trash can.  “Whatever.  This place sucks.  I’m never coming here again!”

I stalked off, throwing open the passenger door of Arabelle’s car and flopping inside.  Then, with a hard glare in the worker’s direction, I slammed the door shut.

I sighed deeply letting myself relax.  I did it.  I succeeded at being Arabelle.  It may have been for only a short period of time, but I did it.  I felt my stomach unclench, and I couldn’t help but smile.  Wow, I should have gone in for acting classes.

I sat up, watching as Arabelle and Caroline made their way to the car, chatting and eating ice cream.  I wondered if it was just for show or not.  Caroline wasn’t a huge fan of Arabelle and her attitude, but she tolerated her.  Sometimes it even seemed like she liked her. 

“You did amazing,” were Arabelle’s first words as she settled into the driver’s seat.  I slid a glance at her ice cream.  She ordered my usual.  A peanut butter cup blizzard.  I licked my lips.  I wanted it.  Badly.

“Yeah, you had me convinced that it was actually Arabelle up there,” Caroline called from the back seat.

“I suppose that’s a good thing,” I mumbled, my eyes still trained on the ice cream.  It was hardly fair that she got to eat just because I was pretending to be her.

Arabelle glanced at me, a mischievous smile growing on her lips.  “You want my ice cream, don’t you?”

I cocked an eyebrow before reaching out and snatching the ice cream out of her hand.  I smiled innocently before plucking the spoon out of her other hand before scooping out some ice cream and plopping it into my mouth.  I smiled contently.  Yum.

“I cannot believe you just did that,” Arabelle muttered, astonished by her lack of ice cream.  She looked between me and her empty hand in amazement.  “You’re doing a lot better.”

I rolled my eyes, grinning.  “Thanks, babe.”

Caroline and Arabelle laughed together, shaking their heads.  “You’ve ruined my friend, Arabelle,” Caroline teased, munching on her ice cream.

Arabelle winked at me before pulling out of the parking lot.  “On the contrary, I’m doing just the opposite.”

❈

I stood in front of the mirror, just looking at myself.  A huge duffel bag was draped over my shoulder, a sweatshirt rolled up in my hands.  My hair was done up for my role perfectly—a ponytail with two curly strips of hair hanging from the sides.  I’d grown used to my hair being this way over the past few weeks, maybe even grown to like it.  Don’t get me wrong, I missed my old hair styles.  But this was at least becoming bearable. 

“You look great.”

I turned.  Arabelle stood in my doorway, leaning against the doorframe with a confident smile on her face.  She was wearing my style of clothes and had her hair done into two braids.  If you didn’t know her well enough you’d think she was me.  Which was, in this case, the point.

“Of course I do,” I said breezily, picking at Arabelle’s tank-top I’d thrown on.  “What else do you expect from me?”

Arabelle grinned, moving forward and hugging me from the side.  “You’re going to do great,” she whispered in my ear.  She moved away, looking me up and down.  “Now,” she drew out, a half-smile growing on her face, “what’s your name?”

“Um, that’s none of your business,” I snapped, glowering at her.

Arabelle laughed, shaking her head.  “As promising the attitude is, babe, I need an answer.”

I scoffed, bringing a hand through my hair irritably.  “Arabelle.”

“Arabelle what?”

I cocked an eyebrow at her.  “Our last name is the same.  Why does it matter?”

“Just answer the question!”

“Winters,” I said, rolling my eyes into the mirror.

Arabelle smirked, flopping back onto my bed.  I twisted, looking at her as she sprawled out, waving her arms over the fabric.  I bit down my plea for her to stop; she was wrinkling up my just-made bed.   I had to pretend not to care.  That’s what Arabelle would do—what she was doing.

“Aren’t you supposed to be me?” I demanded, my hands going to my hips.

“Yeah,” Arabelle said with a sheepish smile. 

“Then shouldn’t you care about how my bed looks?”

Arabelle cursed under her breath—something I rarely ever did—and scuttled up, quickly remaking the bed.  I smirked, happy that I’d gotten my bed fixed without having to do anything.  Pretending to be each other had its kicks.

“Girls, we’ve gotta go!” came my dad’s holler from downstairs.

Arabelle and I shared a glance.  A slow smile crept onto Arabelle’s face as she stood up and patted her shorts.  “It’s show time!” she sang, practically skipping towards me.  “You ready?”

I shrugged, casting another look in the mirror.  “I guess.”

Arabelle smiled reassuringly.  “Don’t worry.  You only have to ignore him, remember?”

I took a deep breath and nodded, mentally bracing myself for what was going to happen next.  It was going to be so hard to ignore my dad.  I’d never pulled a silent treatment before.  Sure, there were the small practice runs with Arabelle and Caroline, where I had to ignore them for as long as I could, but that was different.  This was me legitimately pulling one.  The other person wouldn’t know that I wasn’t actually mad.  They’d think I was beyond mad.

And I just wasn’t used to that.

“Now remember,” Arabelle said softly as we began our way out of my bedroom.  She shot me a pointed look.  “No being nice to the workers or a good number of the camp’s population.  Stereotypically, they’ll all have attitudes anyway so it shouldn’t be much of a problem.”

I nodded.  “Right.”

“It’s not that you can’t be nice to anyone,” Arabelle said, flashing me a smile.  “Just not everyone.  Don’t need your cover blown in twenty minutes.”

“I’ve got it, Fal,” I said flashing a smile as we reached the bottom of the stairs.  My dad stood at the edge, his hands folded in front of him.  He stared me down, like he was trying to peel me apart layer by layer.  I gulped down my unease and glared at him, not saying anything.  I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t say anything.  No.  This was a silent treatment.

“Are we ready to go, Dad?” Arabelle asked sweetly, smiling brightly at our father.  Even though we didn’t have any practice for her whatsoever, she pulled me off perfectly.  Whether it was because she was a great actress or because she knew how to act kind, I didn’t really know.  I mean, I knew she knew manners but decided not to use them, but if she really grasped the concept, then why not use it?  Wouldn’t she save herself so much trouble?

“Yeah,” my dad grumbled, bringing a hand to his head.  It was covered with a hat to hide the fact that there was no hair there.  He shook his head and shot me another scowl.  “Let’s hope this cleans up your act, Arabelle.”

I snuck a glance in Arabelle’s direction before settling a glower in my dad’s direction.  With a huff, I stomped toward the front door and grabbed the handle, roughly pulling the door open.  You can do this! I told myself.  Don’t look at him.  Don’t show him the apology in your eyes.  Don’t let him know it’s you!

And I didn’t.  I kept my angry expression cast on the trees of our yard, making sure to stomp my way to the car before throwing the trunk open so fast and aggressively that my dad had to tell me to cool it before I ripped it off.  I rolled my eyes before throwing my duffel bag into the trunk, slamming the trunk’s door shut and crossing my arms over my chest.  And that was how I stood until my family members came to meet me.

“Belle, come on it could be great,” Arabelle said, grabbing my arm reassuringly.  She put on a bright smile, continuing with a, “Let’s have a bright smile.”

“I can’t smile,” I replied, keeping my tone as bitter as I could possibly get it.  “Because someone is trying to ruin my life in every way possible.”

Arabelle winked at me as I shot a glare at my father before pulling the car’s door open.  “Aw, don’t be that way,” Arabelle said softly, following me into the car.  I shoved my way into my seat, making sure to sit as close to the window as possible.  Of course I was just mocking the silent treatments I’d seen Arabelle pull in the car from time to time.  She’d stuff herself into the corner, glaring out the window, only speaking to me when I said something in an attempt to cheer her up.

“Arabelle, stop being so immature,” said my dad, his voice stern as he planted his butt into the front seat and started the car.  It was so unreal to have him directing this tone at me.  “You got sent to this camp for a reason.  Deal with the consequences of your actions.”

scoffed under my breath, scowling out the window.  It was hard to do—I mean, I wanted to look at Arabelle, to make sure that I was doing all right.  By the lack of whispering in my ear, I guessed I was doing okay at least.

“Belle,” Arabelle said, touching my arm lightly.  “Come on, please at least talk to us.  I know it’s hard going to a camp like this, but I know you’ll be fine.”

“It won’t be fine because I’m not a delinquent,” I seethed, letting my “irritation” show freely as I cast a quick glance in my sister’s direction before turning back to the lovely view of the road.  “Just because I let people know when they do something wrong—”

“You beat people up, you prank people, you do everything that you preach other’s do to you,” my dad hissed from the driver’s seat.  “Arabelle, you need to learn an important lesson at this camp.  And I pray to God that it sinks in.”

I let my head fall back on my seat, closing my eyes.  Little did my dad know that Arabelle wouldn’t be learning any lesson.  No, she’d be making some lie that she was going on a campout with my friends for a few weeks before going off to London with her disgrace of a boyfriend.  I don’t know what she planned on doing when the few weeks were up and I still wasn’t home.  I didn’t think she’d be able to pull off being me for that long no matter how much of a great actress she was.

“Here we go,” Arabelle said softly, touching my arm.  I glanced at her and she smiled.  It said, Thank you so much for doing this!  And I knew that she appreciated what I was doing.  I knew that she thanked me more than she ever thanked anyone else in her life.  I knew that she loved me and that she would do the same thing for me if I begged her to.

Well, maybe she would.

But whether she would do it for me or not didn’t matter.  What mattered was that we were in the car, we were driving down the road, and we were headed toward Camp Delinquency—well, whatever the camp’s actual name was.

Let the fun begin.