They Just Don't Know You

Chapter 1

"I was supposed to be a twin," Aaron says. "The other one got absorbed in the womb, though." Karl lets out a surprised little snort, and I bite back a laugh. This happens to my brother all the time; people overshare the strangest things with him. We might have almost the same face, but his is the one everyone trusts. "I always thought it would've been cool to have a twin. You could pretend to be one another and mess with people." I look up, and Aaron is squinting at us again. "Well. I guess you guys can't do that. You aren't the right kind of twins."

"Definitely not," Karl says with a fixed smile.

I write faster and hand the completed form to Aaron, who tears off the top sheets and gives me the yellow carbon. "So somebody will get in touch, right?" I ask.

"Yep," Aaron says. "You don't hear from them tomorrow, call the number at the bottom. Have fun in Echo Ridge."

Karl exhales loudly as we head for the revolving door, and I grin at him over my shoulder. "You make the nicest friends."

He shudders. "Now I can't stop thinking about it. Absorbed. How does that even happen? Did he...No. I'm not going to speculate. I don't want to know. What a weird thing to grow up with though? Knowing how easily you could've been the wrong twin."

We push through the door into a blast of stifling, exhaust-filled air that takes me by surprise. Even on the last day of August, I'd expected Vermont to be a lot cooler than the UK. I pull my hair off my neck while Karl scrolls through his phone. "Nana says she's circling because she didn't want to park in a parking space," he reports.

I raise my brows at him. "Nana's texting and driving?"

"Apparently."

I haven't seen my grandmother since she visited us in South Shields ten years ago, but from what I can remember, that seems out of character.

We wait a few minutes, wilting in the heat, until a forest-green Subaru station wagon pulls up beside us. The passenger side window rolls down, and Nana sticks her head out. She doesn't look much different than she does over Skype, although her thick grey bangs appear freshly cut. "Go on, get in," she calls, side-eyeing the traffic cop a few feet from us. "They won't let you idle for more than a minute." She pulls her head back in as Karl wheels his solitary suitcase towards the boot.

When we slide into the backseat, Nana turns to face us and so does a younger woman behind the wheel. "Jade, Karl, this is Holly Robinson. Her family lives down the street from us. I have terrible night vision, so Holly was kind enough to drive. She used to babysit your mother when she was young. You've probably heard the name."

Karl and I exchange wide-eyed glances. Yes. Yes, we have.

Norma left Echo Ridge when she was 18, and she's only been back twice. The first time was the year before we were born, when our grandfather died from a heart attack. And the second time was five years ago, for Holly's teenage daughter's funeral.

Karl and I watched the Dateline special online, "Mystery at Murderland", at home while our neighbour stayed with us. I was transfixed by the story of Caitlin Robinson, the beautiful brunette homecoming queen from my mother's hometown, found strangled in a Halloween theme park. Airport Aaron was right; the park's owner changed its name from Murderland to Fright Farm a few months later. I'm not sure the case would have gotten as much national attention if the park hadn't had such an on-the-nose name.

Or if Caitlin hadn't been the second pretty teenager from Echo Ridge, and from the exact same street even, to make tragic headlines.

Norma wouldn't answer any of our questions when she got back from Caitlin's funeral. "I just want to forget about it," she said whenever we asked. Which is what she's been saying about Echo Ridge our entire lives.