* * *
In the hallway the elation hit like a semi-trailer. The smile on my face felt a thousand miles long. Instead of waiting for the elevator, I ran up the stairs to my parents’ penthouse to retrieve the car keys. Mama and Papa wouldn't be home till late, which was a perfect excuse to see Liam.
The keys to my car were in the glass bowl beside the front door. There were countless perks to being a number one—Connie, my pink convertible, was a prime example of a number-one privilege. The car manufacturers begged me to endorse their vehicle, and after much pleading, my parents allowed me to accept the privilege.
Stuffing the keys into my gold jeans pocket, I approached the kitchen, expecting Tamsin to be in dinner demolition mode. Our family took turns to make dinner, and the nights Tamsin was on duty the kitchen always ended up an epic mess. While her cooking was edible, it rarely justified the clean up.
The mid-afternoon sun shone through the living room windows, illuminating our modern furniture and state-of-the-art entertainment unit. I took it all for granted; my parents being number-ones meant they would endorse products and in return receive free samples.
A pang of self-doubt reverberated through my chest. Choosing Liam would dry up the comfortable life I’d known. He lived in the farming sector, a world away from Tealé, which was considered the media hub of the nation.
Could I really give up my comfortable city life to pull weeds out in the elements?
My whole life had been consumed with fear. I’d been afraid of never being number one; afraid that I’d lose my status once I received it; afraid of being alone; afraid of disappointing my parents; afraid of never really loving anyone; afraid, afraid, afraid.
Dumping Oliver had been the first step in facing and conquering my fears. Moving to the country was a fear that I could face and conquer.
I leaned against the kitchen doorjamb, watching Tamsin spill the lasagna sauce onto the bench before she corrected her actions to get the sauce onto the lasagna sheets. The black marble bench was strewn with discarded ingredients and empty packets from Tamsin’s cooking frenzy. The state-of-the-art kitchen was a mess.
Tamsin’s light golden-brown hair was tied into a knot on top of her head, and tomato sauce was splattered all over her simple undyed smock dress and black boots. She’d already taken out her contacts and was sporting Granddad’s thick black-rimmed glasses, which she had recycled deliberately to spite the fashion gods. Despite being twins, we were very different: her features were sharper than mine, and so was her mind. While I pretended to be outgoing, she was naturally extroverted and outspoken.
I wondered if Tamsin didn’t deliberately avoid being part of the higher ranks. In our mid-teens we had shared top ten positions, but as my rank climbed higher, hers dropped. I worked toward gaining number one, and she actively engaged in socially disgraceful actions, like dressing in a pickle costume for Halloween rather than a sexy Disney Princess costume.
“Hello,” I greeted, entering the kitchen once she’d put the sauce on the stove.
Tamsin’s aqua-green eyes lit with her smile as I entered. “You look happy,” she observed. “I guess you’ve heard the news, then.”
“What news specifically?” I asked, dubious of what Tamsin would consider good news.
She grabbed a lasagna sheet and began to cover the sauce with it. The dimple in her left cheek was a sign she was deliberately toying with my interest. “Well, maybe you haven’t heard the news,” she mused, smirking. “If you had, you’d be bouncing off the walls.”
Crossing the kitchen, I grabbed a lasagna sheet and placed it beside hers in the white dish. If I wanted her to cover for me, I had to endear myself to her. “Is this your way of announcing there’s a sale on at Macy’s again? Because you know that’s not my thing.”
Tamsin’s laugh filled the room. It was hard to believe she was ranked so low when she was beautiful, smart and very brave. Nothing scared her. She was my polar opposite in personality, and the only people who knew it were our family. No one would ever guess I was the shy retiring one, and Tamsin was a loud outgoing personality. Both of us were pretending to be someone else for the sake of rankings.
“You’ve got to admit, the Macy’s catalogue was very innovative,” she teased.
“I don’t know if Photoshopping animals heads onto the Top Ten’s bodies was innovative,” I scolded, mildly. Mama had found the magazine and grounded Tamsin, but it had been amusing since she’d attributed the peoples’ characters to their own animal.
“I’m pretty sure Ana has never looked as good as she did with a fox head,” Tamsin replied, chuckling.
“She is a vixen,” I agreed, trying to say something positive.
“Please. She’s pure evil,” Tamsin corrected, filling a corner of the lasagna dish with pasta off-cuts.
“So what’s this news?” I deflected, not wanting to listen to Tamsin’s opinions of my friends. I was fully aware they were scavengers, willing to do anything to get to the top, but there was nothing I could do about it so I didn’t dwell on it. I’d almost gone crazy the first few months I’d been number one, worrying about losing my place. I understood the game and how to play it.
Mama had secretly sent me to a counselor to get my head straight. My take home from the few sessions was to enjoy the moment. If I kept stressing about losing my rank, then I never would have enjoyed it. It was inevitable that I’d cease to be a number one at some stage, so I tried to make the best of it.
“I can’t believe you don’t know,” she said, stopping work to look at me. “Maybe we should wait for Mama and Papa to come home.”
She was playing me along, enjoying my discomfort. “Okay.” I shrugged, trying to look nonchalant.
Tamsin took the pot from the stove. I stepped out of the sauce splash zone, before Tamsin poured the last of the sauce onto the lasagna sheets. Patience was the key to Tamsin’s games; her outgoing personality meant she didn’t have much patience for secret keeping. Her impish grin was a sign she was about to crack.
Meticulously we arranged the lasagna sheets before the béchamel sauce would go on. Tamsin was pulsing with news.
“Fine,” she blurted, excited. “You’re going to be a number one for life.”
The smile dropped from my lips, my hands shook. “What do you mean?” I asked, too scared to imagine Tamsin was saying what I thought she was saying.
“They announced The Tealé Pageant,” she squealed, jogging on the spot with excitement.
“No,” I denied, shaking my head in disbelief.
“It’s all over the news.” She beamed. “You’re going to be in The Pageant. I know I always bang on about what a total waste of time it is—and don’t get me wrong, I stand by my opinion. But I know how much this means to you and I’m so so happy for you.”
“How? Why?” I asked, unable to string a coherent sentence together.
“In celebration of Henrietta’s Comet, the Potentates of Tealé have decided to retire and all this month’s number ones will go to The Pageant on the fifth of next month,” she enthused.
My knees gave out and I leaned against the bench to stay upright. Everything I’d worked toward had come to fruition; I’d be a number one for life. I didn’t even have to make it to the end of The Pageant; one week in the palace and my rank was assured. I could move wherever I wanted and be guaranteed of getting whatever job I applied for. Number one for life.
“Oh my gosh,” I exhaled, sinking to the floor.
Tamsin crouched down beside me. “Are you okay?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at me.
Tears streamed down my cheeks, and every muscle in my body was celebrating the victory by shaking. “I just can’t believe it,” I replied. When the cameras arrived I would be composed and confident, but in front of my twin sister I could be myself. “Everything is perfect. I . . . I . . .” There were no words for the relief I was feeling, or the satisfaction over Oliver being wrong. The Pageant would ensure Liam and I had a secure future. I wa
nted to tell Tamsin all about it, but not now. After months of withholding the truth about Liam, I could wait a few more hours. “I need to go see someone.”
Tamsin rolled her eyes and pulled me to my feet off the floor. She wrapped her arms around me, squeezing tight. “Fine, go see Oliver, but remember that you did it. You’re the one that got into The Pageant with your hard work.”
I vowed to tell Tamsin about Oliver and Liam later. I could always rely on Tamsin supporting my pursuit of happiness.
“We were born under a lucky star and our dreams are going to come true.” Tamsin grinned.
“We were born under a lucky comet,” I corrected, laughing. “Thank God for Henrietta’s Comet.”
Tamsin released me, her eyes damp. “We should go up to the roof with the telescope and see the old girl tonight,” she suggested.
“Absolutely,” I agreed, bouncing on the balls of my feet.
“I’ll pop the corn,” Tamsin said.
“I’ll pick up some chocolate ice-cream on the way home, to dip the popcorn in,” I replied, beaming. “I might be late.”
“Fine,” Tamsin agreed. “I’ll tell Mama and Papa you’ve gone out to celebrate, but we have a date tonight.”
“Of course. Thank you so much. I totally owe you,” I gushed, rushing toward the door.
“You totally do,” she replied, returning to the lasagna. “Make sure you drive safe.”
I was in such a rush to see Liam I didn’t savor the moment. If I’d stayed home and finished making dinner and celebrated with my family, everything would have been different, but hindsight is a cruel instructor. That would be the last time I’d ever see Tamsin disheveled in her undyed dress, but I was too busy to appreciate what I had. All I could think about was Liam and the future.