Nikki Howard, however, had kept her body in superb condition. It wasn’t actually hard to see why, since fattening foods upset her stomach, and anything processed seemed to taste like chalk on her tongue, forcing me to radically alter my former diet of chips and sweets in favour of healthy stuff I wouldn’t have touched before in a million years, like fish and vegetables. Which my new stomach found comforting and my new tongue found delicious.
I know. I was kind of depressed about it too.
The thing was, Nikki could run, swim, even jump rope for up to half an hour at a time before even starting to feel tired.
What’s more, in her body, it was even pleasurable to do these things. For the first time, I got what they meant when they talked in PE about runner’s high. I felt GOOD after exercising. Finally, I got it… about the whole exercise-being-fun thing.
Too bad I’d had to get a whole new body before I did so.
Once I’d passed all the tests Dr Holcombe sent Dr Higgins to do on me, he signed my release papers and said I could go home… but that I would of course need to come in for more tests from time to time, as well as periodic check-ups.
Even though I’d been unconscious during most of my stay with them, the staff lined up to say goodbye to me on my way out… only I had to leave down the service elevator of course, because once Nikki’s publicist, Kelly — who had arrived to pick me up and take me to my first assignment, a photo op with Robert Stark himself, to show the world that Nikki Howard might have amnesia, but she was fine! Just fine! — had issued her press release about Nikki Howard’s amnesia, the front lobby to the hospital had been jammed with press, eager to get a shot of Nikki leaving the place.
I shook hands with Dr Holcombe, Dr Higgins and the rest of the doctors and nurses and orderlies who had cared for me. Dr Higgins and a few of the nurses broke protocol and hugged me, accidentally squashing Cosabella a little in the process, then laughing about it.
I stopped laughing when it came time to hug Mom and Dad goodbye though. Because they were not taking the whole letting-their-baby-goeven-though-they-had-no-choice-in-the-matter thing well. In fact, they had already insisted on issuing me a Stark-brand cellphone, on which I was to check in with them three times a day (and on which they’d be calling me approximately every five minutes, judging from the look on Mom’s face).
They weren’t the only ones who were worried. I’d never lived away from them — except for a few weeks each summer, when Frida and I had worked as counsellors at sleep-away camp. I was trying to put on a brave face about it, but I was basically terrified — and also the tiniest bit angry. I know they hadn’t had any choice and all, but really…
A supermodel? For Stark Enterprises?
Frida I wasn’t so worried about missing. She and I had already shared a ‘special moment’ alone in my hospital room while I’d been packing my (admittedly few) things to leave.
‘God,’ she’d said. ‘I can’t believe you had Nikki Howard’s entire closet to choose from, and what you’ve got on is what you picked. Those Skechers are so pathetic. If you wear them to school, I’m going to die of embarrassment.’
‘Frida,’ I’d snapped, particularly stung by her tone, because I was already so worried about everything else. ‘No one knows I’m even related to you any more, OK? So you don’t have to worry. And could you give me a small break? I’m stressed enough as it is, I don’t need you ragging on me about my fashion choices.’
‘Oh, please tell me again,’ Frida had mock-begged, ‘about how you don’t know how to handle it because you’re so beautiful now… ’
‘What I don’t know how to handle,’ I’d said, through gritted teeth, ‘is the fact that my own sister tried out for cheerleading.’
‘I didn’t just try out for cheerleading,’ Frida had bragged. ‘I made the squad.’
I’d gaped at her. I go into a coma for a month, and my own sister becomes a member of the Walking Dead (only not literally, like me)? Her assimilation was almost complete! She was just one spray-tan away!
‘No,’ I’d said, refusing to look at her. ‘You’re just saying that to get a rise out of me. I don’t believe you.’
‘Believe it,’ Frida had informed me. ‘Just because you hate our school and have zero school spirit, Em, doesn’t mean I do. And don’t think your showing up there as Nikki Howard is going to intimidate me. Because it’s done. I’m on the squad.’
‘Frida.’ I hadn’t known how to explain it to her… especially since Mom had already tried so many times, and evidently failed. ‘Cheerleading is… well, it’s evil.’
‘Cheerleading is a SPORT, Em,’ Frida had shot back. ‘If I wanted to try out for the basketball team, would you be giving me a hard time?’
‘Well,’ I’d admitted, ‘no. Because you don’t have to wear a skirt and HALTER TOP when you play it.’
‘Look, I have news for you, Em.’ Frida had looked more serious than I’d ever seen her. ‘Cheerleading is something I’ve been wanting to try for my whole life. I was really lucky to make the team… even if it’s only JV — and I don’t intend to let you or Mom spoil it. I know I’m not pretty and little like the other girls on the squad… I know they only let me on because I’m a good spotter and I can hold up my end of a pyramid. I can’t do a back handspring or even that great a cartwheel. But I’m going to work hard, and take TAHS to the tumbling championships this year. And then both you and Mom will be sorry you looked down on something that brings so much pleasure to so many people. Especially me.’
I’d just stared at her. Until she’d added, ‘And if I’m not mistaken, in some of the ad campaigns Nikki Howard’s contracted for, and that you’re going to be doing now, you’re going to be wearing a lot less than a halter top — hello, Victoria’s Secret model. And you can walk in there and tell the art director how sexist his ad campaign is, but guess what? They’ll just hire some other girl to replace you. So you better get over yourself.’
At which point she’d turned on her heel and stalked from my room, right past Mom and Dad.
‘What’s eating her?’ Dad had wanted to know.
But I hadn’t told him. I had bigger things to worry about than Frida — who had lately more than proved she could take care of herself — just then. I was minutes away from officially starting my new life as Nikki Howard on the outside, and Em Watts on the inside.
I hadn’t exactly been given any guidelines of course, as to just how I was supposed to accomplish this. Dr Holcombe and his team were scientists, not social workers, and they had no idea what to tell me about being Nikki Howard. Their job was over: I was alive.
Granted, I was living someone else’s life. But what I did with that life, apparently, was up to me… and Stark Enterprises.
Still, I was really, really hoping that I wouldn’t screw it up for my family. And myself.
Standing in front of Mom, Dad and Frida now, I wiped the nervous sweat off my hands — Cosabella’s fur was proving excellent for this — and said awkwardly, ‘Well. So. I’ll come by as soon as I have a night off.’ The truth was, I didn’t want to commit to a particular night for dinner with my parents in front of Mr Phillips, who was standing right there, watching. I figured Stark Enterprises knew enough about my personal business.
But Mom didn’t catch on. I probably should have just told my parents about Nikki’s computer. But the truth is they’re both so untech savvy, they’d probably think spyware is something you eat with.
‘Friday for sure, no excuses,’ Mom said firmly, standing on tiptoe to kiss my cheek. She’d never had to stand on tiptoe to kiss me before. ‘We’ll go to Peking Duck House on Mott Street. That was always your favourite.’
I rolled my eyes in Mr Phillips’s direction. He was tapping on his Blackberry. Interesting that he didn’t carry a Stark-brand handheld personal organizer.
‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘I’ll call you.’ But not on this Stark-brand cellphone I wouldn’t.
‘Friday,’ Dad said, giving me a squeeze that caused Cosabella to grunt in protest as she was squashed. ‘You heard your mother.’
‘Call us as soon as you get there,’ Mom said, fussing with my jacket. ‘I wish you had a warmer coat than this. I should have brought you something from home.’
‘Mom,’ I said.
‘Surely Nikki has warmer coats than this,’ she said, picking at the slim jacket I’d plucked from Nikki’s closet. ‘Promise you’ll find something warmer to wear tomorrow.’
‘Mom,’ I said.
