“How did they catch you?” she asked Lux.
Lux didn’t lift her gaze. “I could not fight them.”
“What?” Then she remembered. “You’re a bodyguard, like Clive. That’s right. Why didn’t you fight free?”
“Jim said, ‘Don’t try to fight them off.’”
“Ah.” Sophie dug her finger into a chip in the back panel of the chair. “And you’ve imprinted on Jim, so you have to do whatever he says.” She looked at Lux sidelong. “When he tells you something, do you want to do it?”
“Yes,” Lux said.
Sophie didn’t want to believe her. There had to be a way around the chip. She couldn’t accept that Lux, or any of the Vitros, truly had no single independent thought, no preference as to the direction their life took. “Even if he told you to jump off a cliff?”
“Yes.”
“Even if he told you to push him off a cliff?”
Lux looked up then, her brows knitted together and her eyes pained. “I . . . If he said . . . but he didn’t say. The answer cannot be found. I do not understand.”
Sophie stared at her sister, trying still to wrap her mind around the word “sister” and apply it to herself. She had a stepsister, Emily, who was twelve, but they’d never gotten on well and she’d never really felt like a sister. Not that Sophie had anything to compare it to; Lux was too new and unexpected, too similar in appearance and too dissimilar in personality. In time, if she were given her autonomy, would she become more like Sophie? She wondered how much of herself was locked away inside Lux, or if there was a whole different girl in there, trapped inside the metal chip in her brain, forbidden her freedom.
Sophie sighed. “Look at you. Your gown is torn and dirty and those shoes are too big. Here.”
She went to the dresser and pulled out a clean pair of underwear, a white shirt, a sports bra, and a pair of athletic shorts, which she tossed to Lux. “Put these on. And there are shoes in the closet.”
Lux held the clothes and looked at them uncertainly. She tugged at the gown, only getting herself tangled up in it. With another sigh, Sophie helped her out of the gown and into the clothes. It was awkward and frustrating; Lux seemed at odds with her limbs and clearly had never put on a shirt before. But when she was dressed she stood in front of the mirror hung behind the door and stared at herself for a long while. Sophie sat on the bed, her legs folded beneath her and her arms hugging a pillow to her chest, watching Lux watch herself.
“You’ve never seen your own reflection, have you?”
Lux put out a hand and pressed it against her image. “This is me?”
“Yes.”
“I look like you.”
“That’s because we’re sisters. Or something.”
Lux turned around and looked at Sophie as if seeing her for the first time. “Sisters.”
“You know what it means?”
“Many meanings,” she said softly. “Many words.”
“Well, in this case, it means we have the same parents. The same mom and dad. Moira you’ve met. Our dad’s name is Foster. He’s a doctor too—or he was once. Now he’s a biology teacher and he’s . . .” She shut her eyes, picturing her dad, tall, lanky, his hair never brushed, his glasses always slightly askew. She saw him sitting at his desk in the family den, grading papers, one hand always in his hair. She saw him when they argued, when he’d snatch off his glasses and wave them around, his face red and his shoulders hunched with tension. “He’s a good dad,” she finished, and she echoed it with regret, wishing she had said goodbye before charging off on this mad venture, wishing they had been on better terms, wishing she had given his warnings about her mother and Skin Island more credence, wishing he had told her the whole truth from the beginning. She opened her eyes and looked at Lux, wondering if her sister would ever have the chance to know him for herself.
Sophie was seized with a sudden affection. “We’ll get out of here,” she said fiercely. “We’ll go back to the States and you can meet Dad and he’ll take care of you. I can find a way to free you from the chip. They have to let me take you, Lux. You’re no good to them now, not after you imprinted on Jim.”
“Jim,” Lux echoed sadly.
“Forget him. He can fly us out of here but after that, it’ll be you and me. I’ll be eighteen—uh, we’ll be eighteen—in three months. We can go wherever we want.” She tossed the pillow aside and walked to Lux, standing behind her and looking over her shoulder into the mirror. The resemblance was dizzying; she was seeing double. “We’ll be real sisters, Lux.” She hesitated, then put her arms around her sister, holding her tight, releasing the small seed of envy that had been wedged inside her and feeling lighter for it. “Would you like that?”
Lux seemed unmoved by Sophie’s affection. “I want Jim,” she said. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know!” Sophie released her. “He’s not your boss, Lux! He’s not your master. You can be your own person. I can help you. Please—let me help you be free.”
“I want Jim.”
“Jim isn’t here! I am!”
“He is.”
“What?”
“He is here.”
“Then I wish you’d point him out to me,” Sophie replied irritably. “So I can punch him in the eye for getting us into this mess.” It was an unfair thing to say, and she knew it, but she couldn’t help letting some of her frustration slip out.
To her surprise, Lux did point—at the window. Jim was there, waving frantically, and when he saw them looking, he hurled a rock at the glass and it shattered across the floor.
TWENTY THREE JIM
“Don’t just stand there!” Jim said. “Come on!”
The girls shot into action. They ran to the window and there was a moment of confusion as they tried to sort out who would go first. Jim took the hands of one and pulled her through, realizing with dizzy shock that he didn’t know which one it was—Lux or Sophie. Lux was no longer wearing her wispy hospital gown and now he couldn’t tell one from the other. But there was no time to exchange names; there were guards crawling over the island looking for him and he knew they had to move fast.
“You’re lucky I looked in and saw you,” he said to whichever twin he was now helping through the window. “I was about to give up.”
Circling the building had been extremely tricky. Guards roamed the perimeter and he was only saved from being seen by the tall grass that grew along the walls. When he saw a guard he would dive into the grass and lie flat until they passed. He was covered in dirt, scratches, and sand burrs and he didn’t think the day could possibly get much worse.
Once both girls were out and standing on the grass, he glanced each one over, trying to tell them apart. They were both scratched from the broken window and their hair was mussed. His eyes fell to their hands, one with nails bitten short and the other with nails long and delicate, and he finally identified them.
“Sophie,” he said, “we have to get to the plane.” “Wait,” she said. “Where’s Nicholas?”
“Nicholas?”
“Didn’t he find you?”
“Was he supposed to?” Jim shook his head. “There isn’ttime. There are guards everywhere! Let’s go.” He started to take off, but she grabbed his arm.
“But I promised him I’d help him escape. He was the one who sent that e-mail, not my mom! He’s behind everything because he just wants to be free.” Her eyes entreated him. “I promised I’d help him.”