Doppelgänger

Stephanie blanched as Angela came up to the desk. If her current friends were any indication, Angie was likely a bitch version of herself, and probably a bully to Stephanie. The girl was clearly intimidated.

"Um, hi Angie." Stephanie said in a shaky voice.

Well, she thought, she'd nailed that one. Over here, she was Angie. She supposed it made sense. Of course she would think like herself. She just had to think backwards about everything. If nothing else, this experience was going to prove an interesting mental exercise.

"Hey, Stephanie." Angela replied, "I was wondering if I could check the lost and found for a skirt I left in the locker room yesterday."

"Sure."

Stephanie indicated a door to the right. Angela thanked her, prompting a suspicious look from the girl, and entered the room. Amongst shelves with backpacks, lunch boxes, and various school supplies was a large cardboard tote filled with clothes. Angela tore through it, discarding sweaters, jeans, t-shirts, and finally found a blue v-neck top that was one size too small for her, and a pleated skirt that looked like someone's schoolgirl fantasy. She sighed and took them, replacing the other items in the tote. Unfortunately, there were no shoes to replace her sneakers, but once she put this top on, no one would be looking at her feet. So much for not attracting attention, she thought.

She waved to Stephanie on her way out of the office, and returned to the restroom, where she changed and stuffed her old clothes into her backpack. Her glasses went in last. That would be more difficult. Either Angie had perfect vision, or she wore contacts. Angela would be able to see well enough, but she'd practically have to stick her nose into a book to read anything. Finally, she let her hair down out of the confines of the bun, and pulled it back into a ponytail. She checked the mirror and decided she was, for now, a passable Angie.

Satisfied, she left the restroom and went back to her locker. She couldn't be sure that her classes here were the same as her normal classes. Hopefully, Angie wasn't so different as to not keep a copy of her schedule in her locker. She just needed to get into it. She reversed the combination and the locker opened with a satisfying click. It took some digging through crumpled up papers, stuffed into the locker, but she managed to find her schedule of classes. Of course, they were all backwards.

Angela made it to her history class just in time and took an open seat, next to Kat. Glancing at her friend's evil twin's binder showed her that Kat went by Katie. Katie gave her an appraising glance and smiled.

"What the fuck was the deal with that getup?" She whispered, "I thought you'd lost your shit there for a minute. Shit, you looked like one of the Hamlin girls!"

Angela thought quickly. If she were one of the hot, bitchy girls, what would she have done?

"I broke into Tori's locker," She lied, "and thought it would be funny to go make fun of Stephanie at the office. You should have seen her face. I thought she was gonna cry."

Katie cackled. For just an instant, Angela's vision wavered. The room seemed to brighten, and Katie's mean girl image slipped. It was barely a second, almost so fast that Angela wasn't sure if it had happened at all, but in that fraction of a moment Katie became the Kat that Angela knew. Then it was gone. Angela looked away to hide her surprise. She was certain that in that brief instant she was where she belonged, but it had happened so fast. Probably just hope, she decided.

"Your tits look amazing in that top," Kat whispered, and she felt the girl's hand on her bare leg beneath the table, "Why don't we skip next period and we can lez off in the work room. I stole the key from Black Bill."

Angela nearly choked on her tongue, but caught herself. Fuck! Was Angie a lesbian?

"I... " she stammered, then quickly said, "I can't. That time of the month."

Katie nodded and shrugged, understanding.

Fortunately, she was saved by the start of class, which also proved to be a complete headtrip. Her teacher, Mr. Lynn, was a short Asian man with wire-rimmed spectacles, who always wore a blazer that was too large for him. He was terse, short-fused, and had the propensity to mutter to himself angrily in Korean when he wasn't happy with the class. Angie's Mr. Lynn was, well, the opposite. He smiled broadly and welcomed them to the final week of school. Rather than an over-large blazer, he wore a smart polo shirt and ironed slacks.

"This will be a practice exam," he announced in perfect, unaccented English, passing papers around, "with the final on Thursday. It will cover all the same content, so you'll know what to study, though the final exam will have different questions."

Angela looked down the list of questions, which were all a blur. Shit. Fortunately, the other students became focused on their own tests, so no one paid much attention to the fact that her face was nearly pressed against the table so that she could read the words. None of them made any sense. The questions were about history that had never happened, as far as Angela was concerned. Well, she supposed that Angie was likely not the best student, so one more failed exam wasn't going to make a difference. Unless, of course, she was stuck here. The thought was too horrible to contemplate.

Chapter 4: Joan of Arc... or Fuckin' Something

Judas Christ this Katie was an annoying little cunt, Angie thought, toying with a beaker of some kind of blue liquid. Kat, she caught herself. The prattling bitch was Kat, here. Angie sighed. She'd never paid much attention in chemistry. Boring. The teacher, though, him she could pay attention to. Her version of Mr. Layton was a dorky fuck, but this guy made her go all gooey between the legs just looking at him.

"Fuck he's hot." Angie whispered to Kat, who turned crimson with embarrassment.

"Gosh, Angela!" Kat hissed, "What the heck? Now you're checking out a teacher? I

should take you to the nurse, or something."

"I'm fine." Angie said. "He's just fucking hot. How does your pussy not get wet every day just looking at him?"

Kat rolled her eyes and said, "Whatever. Can you just tell me the pH, so we can finish this?"

"The what?"

Kat sighed and said, "just give it to me."

Angie tore her lustful eyes away from the hot teacher and laid her hand on Kat's arm. At least this Kat would make graduating easier, she surmised. This Kat actually did work, rather than skipping class to get pounded in the janitor's closet by Black Bill.

"Hey, sorry." she said, "I just woke up on the wrong side of the world, er, bed today. It kind of feels like I'm somewhere else. Thank you." She smiled sweetly, the way she did when she needed to get Donny Thompson to do her homework for her, and it had the same effect.

Kat flushed cutely and replied, "Yeah, it's ok. Let me just finish this so we don't have to redo it. I like your top."

Angie looked back to Mr. Layton and caught his eyes on her cleavage.

"You're not the only one." She murmured, and winked at the teacher suggestively.

Mr. Layton looked back down at his papers.

Angie mulled over her next steps. It was a real kick in the cooch when she'd left for school that day and somehow ended up in fucking Oz. After getting her bearings, and realizing that the old Russki from the shit shop had actually been telling the truth about a curse on the necklace, Angie had decided to make the best of it. Stealing the thing was proving to have been a great decision! Aside from having to ride the goddamn school bus today, she thought that she could get used to this topsy-turvy place. At least here she was on track to graduate in a week, and she hadn't needed to do fuck-all for it. It was a free pass.

Hell, all the nerds over here (wherever here was) were the crowd of popular and successful people back... home, she guessed. All she'd had to do was come to school today showing some cleavage, and it was like she was fucking Joan of Arc to the dweebs. Angie did not know if that was an apt comparison, but she'd heard the name somewhere and knew the chick was famous for something awesome. You don't get into a history book for being a complete cockup, after all. Even she knew that.

As she figured it, all she had to do was get acclimated, pull some of the nerds out of their shells and make herself their own personal Judas, no, Jesus over here (That fuckup had earned her some odd looks), and she'd be running this place inside a week. She just had to keep in mind that over here, everyone thought she was some kind of sissy dork carpet-muncher, or something. She'd just hook the cattle in with sex (what dorks wanted more than anything) and show them how to actually live a little, then she could make them do anything. Easy as smiling at Donny Thompson.

Chapter 5: Becoming Yourself

Angela rode the bus home, her first day down the rabbit hole something of a success. She'd managed the school day well enough, she thought, dodging the odd question or crinkled brow with hasty excuses and half-witted replies. Now, she bounced in her seat waiting for the bus to drop her off so that she could make the trip to the curio shop, where she hoped some kind of answer awaited.

At last, she reached her stop and quickly made the walk through downtown, which seemed much the same as her own. She wasn't in the mood for sightseeing, though. She rounded the turn onto the end of 3rd, and there was the little shop. She pushed the door open, the bell tinkled, and she stepped inside, approaching the counter swiftly. A moment later, the same old woman emerged from the same beaded curtain. She fixed Angela with an angry look.

"Some nerve you have, little thief, to come here!" She shouted, "I call the police right now!"

She reached for the phone.

"Wait! Please" Angela said, "I'm not... I'm not who you think I am."

The woman paused and looked her over again, then her eyes widened. Her hand moved away from the phone.

"No," she said, "No, you are not her, are you?"

Angela breathed a long sigh and said, "You know?"

The woman nodded. She quickly walked across the shop and flipped the sign to "closed" then locked the door. Her face softened.

"I know." she said, nodding her head.

"Please! What do you know about it?"

The woman looked far away for a moment, silent, as though looking back through time.

"I was... like you." She said, "From... over there." she waved a hand.

"You... but, you never got back." Angela stated, her heart sinking.

The woman shook her head and said, "Babushka was like you, too. Like me. From over there. It... it switches you with the doppelgänger." she said sadly, "but I could not be like her, so never got back."

"I don't understand." Angela said pitifully.

The woman seemed to struggle for words, then said, "To go back, one of you must become like other you. The same. I could not be like... other me. Evil, she is. Tricksy. I could not become that, and so I never go back. She could not be me, so she never goes back."

Angela thought it through. To go back, she had to become Angie?

"How did you get it?" The woman asked.

"You... she sold it to me."

The woman nodded sadly and said, "Tricksy, like I say. Other you, she steal it and run. Never would I wish a thing like this on someone. Always I keep it, though, and I think that one day I might go back. Glupyy... stupid."

"So, I need to be... like her to get home?"

"Old story. I know only that much. She become you, or you become her. More you are like her, more you will see other side. When you see other side, you break stone, you break curse. This is what I know from babushka. This is what she know from old country."

She shrugged. Angela stood straight. That split second, in her first period class. She'd told Katie that she'd broken into Tori's locker, something that she believed Angie would do. In that instant she'd seen her Kat, and then it had been gone. She'd become like Angie, and she'd been home.

"I saw it today. The other side. I... I did something like her, the other me, and I saw it."

The woman nodded and said, "I have seen it, too. You are like them, and you are closer to home. You are not like them, and you are far away. You will become like her?"

"I... I don't know."

The woman nodded, understanding.

"Thank you." Angela said.

The woman snorted, "Is not good saying this. You are now further away. It is not like her."

"Every time?"

The woman nodded. Great, Angela thought. Now, she just had to become a slutty ultra-bitch full-time, and she'd be set.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Angela said, then put on her best bitch face, "Thanks for fucking nothing, you stupid old cow!"

The woman nodded, understanding, and the world wavered in her vision, so quickly, like a spliced frame in a film reel, and then it was gone.

"Is good. You are closer."

"Fuck off." Angela said, and just for good measure, she swept the woman's jewelry display off of the counter and stormed out of the shop. She did not feel good about it.

Walking back home, Angela thought it over. Could she actually do it? Was she willing to become like Angie in order to go home? What a mindfuck! She'd have to watch her every word and every action, every minute of the day. Even the slightest lapse into her real self was a setback. How could she maintain it? Lost in her own thoughts, she only realized she'd made it home when she found the door locked, and her key did not work.

It suddenly occurred to her that this might not even be her home. A wave of panic tied her stomach in a knot. She had no idea where she lived. What were her parents like? If things were backwards, had the divorce never happened? Well, she was here. She may as well find out. She raised her fist and knocked on the door, then waited. A minute passed, and then the door opened.

"Mom?" She asked, staring in surprise at the woman standing in the doorway.

"Angie?" The woman asked, equally surprised, "What are you doing here? It's not our week. Does your dad know that you're here?"

Angela bit off the flow of questions that were about to spill forth. Her next words or action would either get her closer to home, or set her back. What would Angie do?

"I'm an adult. Dad doesn't have to know every fucking thing I do." She snapped, "And, why did you change the locks without telling me?"

Her mother sighed and said, "One of these kids around here broke the lock trying to get into the place a few days ago. I just had them changed. I wasn't expecting you until next week. It doesn't answer the question, though. Your dad is going to be pissed. You'd better come in and call him." She looked over Angela's shoulder, then asked, "Where's your car? Did he ground you again? Judas Christ, Angie, you shouldn't be taking buses around the city dressed like that. You're going to get into trouble. Come in here."

She went inside and her mother closed the door.

"I need to use your phone." Angela said.

"What happened to yours? Oh, of course. Grounded. What did you do this time?"

Angela rolled her eyes and shot back, "Do you want to read my diary, too?"

"No, but I also don't want you to get raped, riding public transportation dressed like that, but since when does anything I say matter?"

Her mother handed her phone over. Angela couldn't afford a phone of her own, and even if she could it was unlikely it was going to work over here. Hell, over here Verizon was probably some mom and pop joint in fucking Wisconsin. Angela scrolled through the contacts. Fortunately, her father had the same name. She dialed, waited, and then a woman on the other end answered, "Mr. Eller's office. This is Laura. How can I help you?"

Mr. Eller? Laura?

"Is my dad there?" Angela asked, as entitled and prissy as she could manage.

The woman did not sound happy to hear from her, but she was polite, "Hi, Angie. Just a moment."

The line went silent, beeped, and a moment later it clicked.

"Angie?" Her father's voice asked, "What is it? I'm about to head into a meeting."

"I'm over at mom's, and she doesn't want me to take a bus home. Should I order a cab or something?"

Her father sighed and said, "What are you doing at your mom's? Nevermind. I'll send a car. Is there anything else?"

"No."

The line went dead. Ok. Dad was kind of a dick. It made sense. Her own dad was kind and accepting, and her mother was a bitch, so... opposite. Jesus Christ. No, Judas Christ. Even cursing didn't work right around here.

Chapter 6: Dumpy Little Shitshack

What a shithole, Angie thought, reaching for the door to her new home. Her mom's place was even more of a dump over here. Everything else had been backwards, so why didn't her mom have a downtown penthouse apartment here, like her dad over there. She found the door locked as she tried the knob. Fucking great. The key was useless, of course. Her mom kept a spare in a coded lockbox around the back, so chances were... yes, there was the box. She punched in the combination, the only reason she actually remembered her mother's birthday, and nothing happened.

Damn it!

She rekeyed the combination in reverse. Backwards? Nothing. She tried her own, forward, and then reverse. Click. She grinned. Mom actually liked her over here, she guessed. She lifted the key from the box and let herself inside. Yeah, it was a dump, as expected. Back home, her dad left her mom with basically nothing, since he could afford the kind of lawyers she could only dream of. Over here, it looked like things had turned out the same way. The place was a study in spartan decoration, practically empty but for the basic necessities. There were a lot of photos of her on the wall, though, which she found interesting.

For the first time, she really got a look at her pansy twin in her thick glasses and dyke-bun. Chess club? Book club? Debate team? Fucking 1st place science fair? She wasn't just a nerd. She was the queen of the nerds. Thank god her graduation was basically a formality at this point. She'd just need to find a way to cheat her finals, and it would be all good. At least she was a super-brain over here, so no one would suspect her of cheating.

Moving past the wall of photos, she poked around the rest of the place, familiarizing herself with each room. It wasn't much. The house itself she knew well enough, just like her own mom's. She stopped and looked at the pile of mail, reading the name. Dale Eller. Aw, shit. This was her dad's place, and he was a broke fuck. That explained why she didn't have a car, and rode the fucking twinkie to school. If dad was broke, though, did that mean that mom was a rich bitch? She'd always known how to work her sweet mother to get her way. Her dad, though, was kind of a cunt. If she was going to have to spend her life here like one of the poor kids, maybe this wasn't such a sweet deal after all. But then, her dad was threatening to cut her off after high school anyway, so whichever world she was in, she was going to be broke. At least over here she had opportunities, thanks to her nerd-self's hard work.

In her own room, she found more nerd shit, and when she checked the closet she actually felt like she might vomit.

She clenched the red stone in her fist in disgust and said, "What the fuck do you wear?"

There was a brief moment where she thought that she could actually feel the other her, like sharing the same space. She paused, and held the stone up to the light. It was dark, like someone had pulled a shade over it. It still caught the light, but not in the same way it had. Odd. She returned it to her neck and started to pull the clothes out of the closet and lay them on the bed. If she accomplished nothing else today, she was not going to wear this dumpy shit. She couldn't seduce a fucking priest in these things.