Someone Like Me

Chapter One: PEACHES!!! and Then There's Me...

Who's excited?!?!?!

Yup, that's right, I rewrote 'My Popular Twin Sister' and this version is sooooo much better.

Though a lot has changed:

First: Most of the characters are the same, except a few. One big example of change is "Charlie" anyone who was a fan of the old book remember Rider. Well, he still has the same 'character' but his name was changed. You will love Charlie...believe me.

Second: There's a different plot. I'm not going to go into detail with that.

Third: The story feels more...Real.

Forth: There's a bunch more but I'm too lazy to explain and you guys probably only read the the first thing before skipping everything else and reading because you want to see who this Charlie is. So...get reading. I'll be updating weekly.

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"Alright beautiful pose for Gossip!" The lead photographer, Darrell, smiled at Peaches. Peaches posed with her partner, Brock Wills, by wrapping her arms around his waist then giving a flirty smile to the photographer. "Perfect!" He and two others took pictures as my mother acted out ways for Peaches to look cute and adorable.

Peaches was decked out in some high-waist, white jean shorts, blue flowery crop top, matching jewelry, and some designer flip flops. All designed by fashion designer, Grey Maliki, for her summer catalog, which is always a big hit with every girl in the country. Peaches kissed Brock's cheek causing Darrell to go crazy with excitement. Brock smiled down at his partner, Peaches, then kissed her temple causing Darrell to cry, "I'm about to die from the cuteness!" I rolled my eyes at the man.

I sat there, near the door, in a hard plastic seat. My butt was becoming tingly from the numbness. I hated it here but my mother always dragged me along to everything that Peaches does; from photo shoots to runway shows. You'll always find me sitting as close to the door as possible. Why? Because I hated it. It made me feel like a nobody; no one talks, looks, or cares about me...unless, somehow, I got in the way.

Peaches's was my sister; twin sister. Most people didn't believe me; considering we look and act nothing alike. The only things we shared were DNA, last names, and our first names were after fruits. Peaches was in everyone's words: Perfect. No surprise there. Every girl in the world wanted to be her; golden curly blonde hair, tanned skin, perfect eyebrows, deep blue eyes that popped, small nose, the "Mostest perfectest smile I have like ever seen!" (At least that's what Darrell says), heart shaped face, the right body with all the right curves, long tanned legs (Which is her favorite thing), and a shoe size of seven and a half. All this was packed up into a one hundred and twenty pound, five foot four 'bundle of perfection.'

Try saying that in one breath. Then the fact that she's the most wanted model in the modeling industry (Every fashion designer want her to model their clothing, heck Victoria's Secret wants her to be an Angel for them!) She's the most popular girl in school, gets straight A's, everyone knows her by just her first name (Ask a random person on the street around here if they know Peaches they will reply, "Of course I know her! Who wouldn't?") Everything she does is just "Perfect!" It's all a happy life for Peaches because nothing ever goes wrong!

Then there's me, dull little old Cherry, who has nothing interesting about herself, whatsoever. Peaches and her "friends" have called me almost every name in the book, from freak to a fat lard. They always said how I look like a dead version of Peaches with pastel skin, flat white blonde hair, big ears, pale blue eyes (they look more grey then blue.) Skinny body with little curves, and eight and a half shoe size, which apparently is big feet, says Peaches and her friends. I don't have the greatest grades, but I try my best. Then I don't have any "friends" at the school because it's full of rich, lively, happy people who don't want to be friends with me, though much rather be friends with Peaches because she's a model and just like the greatest friend ever. Also I can't seem to do anything to right at home. I always get lectured by my mother, who actually use to be a model too but stopped after marrying dad and having us. Dad passed away after a bomb went off overseas. He was on his third tour in the Army, I was seven.