Dead Girl Walking

I’ve given her the name of a good electrologist to get rid of her mustache.”

It started adding up. Leah might sweat while exercising, but not over ordinary responsibilities like homework. Why do the hard work if you could pay someone else to do it for you? I was disgusted — and impressed. Leah was taking advantage of her opportunities, and delegating duties just like my book Leaders on Board advised. Still, cheating was dishonest, and didn’t feel right.

The math homework wasn’t right, either.

“Look.” I pointed. “Problems two and five are wrong.”

She squinted as if she needed glasses. “They look fine to me.”

“The results are completely off. Doesn’t Rebecka know anything about math?”

“As if you do?” she scoffed.

“The errors are so obvious.”

“Not to me.” She tilted her head, studying me. “Leah, you’re acting … odd.”

“What’s wrong with caring about my homework?”

“It’s more than that. Something is off with you, I don’t know what exactly. When you talk, it’s like you’re acting in a play and not being natural. And then there’s my hair.” Her mouth puckered into a pout. “I’ve been waiting and waiting and still you haven’t said one thing about my new extensions.”

“Uh … your hair looks nice.”

“Nice? Is that all you can say? And since when do you call anything nice?”

“It’s really pretty.”

She snorted with disgust. “I have the weirdest feeling I’m talking with a stranger. Chad warned me you were different, but I didn’t believe him — until now.”

What a tempting chance to explain my real identity. But I knew she wouldn’t go for it. And what if she told Mr. Montgomery I was crazy? He’d ship me off to DeHaven faster than I could calculate the square root of pi.

I carefully considered what I knew about Jessica: how it was important to her to be liked and have others admire and respect her. She tried to be a good person, but she was easily influenced by her friends. She possessed a soft heart — and soft hearts could be manipulated.

All I had to do was think of my parents, sisters, and friends to bring on my tears. I wasn’t faking, just drawing on my very real pain. Immediately Jessica was by my side, wrapping her arms around me.

“Everything is so confusing,” I sobbed.

“Oh Leah, I’m sorry. You’ve had a rough time and I haven’t made it any better. Yell or throw something at me — I deserve it for being a horrid friend. If your homework is wrong, I’ll ask Rebecka to do it over.”

“No, it’s okay.” I’ll fix it myself later, I thought.

“Well, you let me know if you need anything.”

She really meant it, and I was glad that Leah had such a good friend.

Except that Leah was gone and all that was left was … me.

Realization slammed like a fist into my gut.

I was Leah Montgomery — for the rest of my life. At school Jessica was my best friend. She’d hang out with me and we’d sit with Moniqua, Kat, Tristan and other popularity-plus friends. Classmates would admire and envy us. Some — like Rebecka — would even pay for the privilege of being with us.

This was my reality. It was time I accepted my fate.

Amber Borden was dead and gone forever.

Leah Montgomery lived.

24

Jessica rambled on about school and friends and shared memories I didn’t share. Her presence filled my room, overwhelmingly, giving me too much to think about. I craved to be alone but sweet, sincere, determined Jessica showed no interest in leaving.

When Jessica found the gift bag Mrs. Montgomery had left, she squealed in ecstasy over the suede laced- ankle heels. She said I had to go out to show off my new shoes. Then she swept through my closet like a fashion cyclone, searching for a matching outfit and accessories. Her clashing opinions about styles made me dizzy. Short was in but mini was out; white was the new black yet black never went out of style; and low-waist jeans were tacky unless accompanied by a sexy, low-back tattoo.

Finally, I told her bluntly that I needed to sleep.

“I’ll go — if you promise to come to my house tonight for a fundraising meeting.”

“You can’t be serious. I only got out of the hospital a few days ago.”

“So it’s time you had some fun — and show off your fabulous new shoes. It’ll just be our group and afterwards Mom’s serving a yummy Hawaiian barbeque dinner. It’ll be so much fun — and even more with you there. Come on, Leah, please, please, please say you’ll go!”

“Tonight?” I laughed bitterly. “My father will never let me out of here.”

“If your father agrees, you’ll go?”

I nodded, positive his answer would be a stern “no.”

“Great.” She lifted her head confidently. “I’ll handle your father.”

Jessica hurried out of the room and returned less than ten minutes later — smiling. Her powers of persuasion were phenomenal. If she wrote a book on the topic, it would be an immediate bestseller — and I’d probably read it.

Once she’d left, I slapped my forehead. “Stupid! Stupid! What have I done?”

I wasn’t ready to hang out with Jessica and her backstabbing friends. They knew more about Leah than I did — which could be humiliating. And considering how badly my first Jessica party had turned out, I was in no hurry to repeat the mistake.

Still, I couldn’t hide in this room forever. Eventually, I’d have to face Leah’s crowd. I’d be a jumble of nerves, expecting to be called out as a fraud. But how would they know? I certainly wasn’t about to tell them.

Since I looked like Leah, for my own survival I’d have to learn to act like her.

Beginning with the daily schedule Angie had given me.

Leah liked exercise.

I could learn to like it, too.

With this resolve, I didn’t complain as Angie led me down to the pool to swim laps. She must have worried I’d escape again, because she kept a sharp eye on me. Not being a skilled swimmer, I doggie paddled and floated on my back. The heated water cocooned me against chilly breezes. My mind wandered and my body slipped into auto- pilot, until to my surprise I found myself slicing through the water with powerful strokes. Hey, I was really swimming. Cool.

Next on the schedule: one-hour workout in the gym.

I’d heard the wealthy people had complete gym facilities in their homes, but I’d had never been in one until now. There were two treadmills, a computerized stationary bike, a stepper, weights, and elliptical equipment. I spent an hour trying out the different machines. It wasn’t pretty. I groaned, sobbed, and sweat. But instead of the expected aching muscles, I had this incredible mental rush, like I’d climbed a mountain or soared into air from a bungee. This body thrived on exercise.

All that thriving made me hungry.

Lunch was served in the dining room. I was the only one at the table since Mrs. Montgomery had taken Hunter to consult with his lawyer, Mr. Montgomery was at his office, and Warden Angie was who-knew-where- and-who-cared off running errands. Only Angie’s husband Luis remained to serve me.

A chubby and fuzzy-bearded teddy-bear, Luis moved and spoke in a relaxed, hippie-like way. He dished up food so fabulous he could have been a chef in a five-star restaurant. I could tell he didn’t like me, but that didn’t stop him from gossiping about his passion — soap operas. I knew a fair amount about this topic myself, thanks to