Mi Jin did a little fist pump. “Yes. Exactly.” She winked at the camera and added, “I’m a little bit obsessed with doppelgangers, so I’m really excited about this.”
“I researched those, too,” I went on, itching to get this over with. “They’re supposed to be bad luck, if you see your own. Some people think it means you’re going to die soon.”
“True, but I have a theory about that,” Mi Jin said. “Do you know what a self-fulfilling prophecy is?”
“Yes,” I replied instantly. “It happens in books all the time. Someone hears a prophecy, and then when they try to do something to stop it, their actions just cause the prophecy to come true. So it’s like it never would’ve happened if they hadn’t heard the prophecy to begin with.”
Mi Jin smiled. “Exactly! A lot of the recorded accounts I’ve read of people who have died after supposedly seeing their doppelgangers . . . their deaths were a result of their reaction to seeing it. You know what I mean? Like, if they hadn’t freaked out after seeing their double, they wouldn’t have gotten on that train that crashed or whatever led to their death.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.” I frowned. “Although . . . you’re still basically saying if they hadn’t seen their doppelganger, they wouldn’t have died. So it is a . . .” I paused, trying to remember what I’d read on the P2P Wiki. “A harbinger of death.”
Mi Jin looked impressed. “Touché. I guess it can be, depending on how the person reacts.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Oscar wave at me, and I knew what he wanted me to say. While we were brainstorming, he’d come up with the perfect way to end this interview. Bracing myself, I tore my eyes off Mi Jin, faced the camera, and smiled.
“Will I die in the season two finale? Tune in to find out!”
I held the smile another second, praying it looked natural. Then, mercifully, the red light turned off. Oscar struggled to lower the camera, but he was beaming.
“That was awesome,” he said fervently. Feeling rather proud, I turned to Mi Jin. She wasn’t smiling, though. In fact, she looked kind of shocked.
“Kat, you don’t . . . are you actually worried you’re going to die?”
“What? No!” I exclaimed. “Not at all. Oscar and I just thought that would be funny.”
“And it’s a great sound bite for finale promo,” Oscar added. “Isn’t it?”
Mi Jin relaxed a little. “Yeah, it would be . . .” She gave me an uncertain look. “Not sure your dad would be on board with that, though. I mean, promoting an episode based on whether or not you’ll die?”
I wrinkled my nose. “I guess he probably won’t like that.”
Oscar’s shoulders sagged. “So should we shoot something else?” he asked, and I groaned loudly.
Laughing, Mi Jin took her camera from him. “No, no . . . we’ll see what he says. But even if he doesn’t like that part, Kat, this interview was great. Love how you debunked those other theories.”
“Thanks!”
“All right, off to do some editing.” Mi Jin waved before heading to the elevators. Once she was out of sight, Oscar turned to me.
“You,” he said, holding up his hand, “should consider being an actor, too.”
I rolled my eyes. “Over my dead body,” I replied, but I high-fived him, anyway.
Oscar and I spent most of the afternoon exploring the neighborhood, taking pictures of the giant colorful gate a few blocks away and ducking into a coffee and tea shop when the wind got too chilly. When we got back to the hotel, Oscar headed for the business center, a small room near the reception desk with several computers.
“Can’t you use one of the laptops upstairs?” I asked, stifling a yawn.
He shook his head. “They’re all up there editing, remember?”
“Ah.” I glanced at the time on my phone. “They’ll be stopping for dinner soon, though. Or, hey, you can always use the one in my room!”
“Yeah, but . . .” Oscar glanced at me and sighed. “I’m supposed to video chat with Thiago in fifteen minutes, okay?”
I grinned. “Ah.” Thiago was a boy we’d met in Buenos Aires, and he and Oscar had really hit it off. “In that case, I think I’m gonna just go upstairs and take a nap. Tell Thiago I said hi.”
When I stepped off the elevator, I remembered I needed to let Lidia know that Oscar and I were back. Her door was slightly ajar, but I knocked anyway before stepping inside. The usual mess greeted me: cables and cords all over the floor, five open laptops on the desk and beds, Lidia’s giant whiteboard covered in notes blocking most of the window. Lidia was standing behind Roland, who was seated at the desk watching a clip.
“Hey, Lidia,” I called, and she glanced up. “Oscar’s downstairs in the business center, and I’m going to take a nap.” Lidia gave me a thumbs-up and returned her attention to the screen. I barely had one foot back in the hall when Mi Jin yelled, “Kat, wait up!”
She joined me in the hall a moment later and thrust a thick stack of papers into my hands. I let out an exaggerated groan.
“Aw, is this homework?”
“Ha, no.” Mi Jin stuck her hands in her pockets. “It’s my screenplay. Doesn’t have a title yet,” she added, and I saw that the top page just said UNTITLED, by Mi Jin Seong.
“Oh, cool!” I said, suddenly feeling much more awake. “About doppelgangers, right? You’re letting me
