Authors: Cherry Cheva

She's So Money (28 page)

“Okay,” I said. “I have to know.” He turned to look at me and I kept going. “Why did you do it? Why did you like, orchestrate something so elaborate and risky just so that I wouldn’t get in trouble? Why’d you want to take the fall alone?”

He gazed at me steadily. “Because I’m in love with you.”

Oh. Good answer.

Camden leaned forward, brushed my hair out of my eyes, and kissed me . . . and if either of us had been paying attention, we would’ve heard chaos outside the windows as Leonard sprinted past the car in his underwear and everyone in the parking lot laughed hysterically.

But we weren’t paying attention.

acknowledgments

Many thanks to Josh Bank, Allison Heiny, Bob Levy, Les Morgenstein, Katie McConnaughey, Sara Shandler, Andrea C. Uva, Siobhan Vivian, Farrin Jacobs, Lexa Hillyer, everyone at Alloy Entertainment and HarperTeen, David Boxerbaum, and Helena Heyman.

Ever wish there were two of you?
Well, be careful what you wish for . . .

Read on for a sneak peek of
Cherry Cheva’s latest novel,

DUPLIKATDUPLIKATE

Fwamp. Fwamp. Fwamp.
I tried to slam the snooze button on my alarm clock and realized that both of my arms were completely tangled in the blankets. Great. I wiggled around to free myself and finally turned off the alarm. Snuggling back under the covers, I was getting back to that blissful early morning half-sleep when I heard a voice.

“Don’t you think you should just get up?”

“What? No,” I said, not bothering to open my eyes. “Th ere’s a snooze button for a reason.” I was halfway asleep again when I realized that the voice did not belong to my mother.

I’m not gonna lie—I shrieked bloody murder. Then I scooched backward across my bed as fast as I could and scrunched up against the wall, my body in an upright fetal position, my heels on one of my pillows. I held another pillow in front of me, like that would save me, and struggled to keep myself from breathing either way too hard or not at all.

But the stranger in my room clearly wasn’t a murderer. She was a teenage girl. About five six, wavy dark brown hair falling just past her shoulders, brown eyes, a decent complexion—not perfect, but pretty good. Couple freckles on the cheekbones. She was smiling and she wasn’t holding a gun or a knife. All in all, if there was going to be a random stranger in your room, this was not a bad person for her to look like.

Except that she looked exactly like me.

“Mom!” I screeched.

“She left for work already,” the NotMe said. “Hi!”

“Hi?” I replied, looking around my room frantically. Everything looked the same as usual: piles of books on the floor, clothes draped on every surface, random pens and pencils scattered on my desk and dresser, the edge of my computer monitor covered in Post-it notes. The door to my walk-in closet was open, which was weird because I closed it at night, and the overhead light was on even though I hadn’t yet left my bed, but mostly everything looked normal.

Except for the girl. Who looked like me.

“I’m hallucinating,” I said out loud. “Th is is why one should always say no to drugs.”

“Who the hell are you?” I demanded. I was still backed up against the wall, and the girl was now coming toward me. She settled happily at the foot of my bed, sitting cross-legged and hugging one of my pillows. “Don’t touch my stuff,” I added. She put the pillow down.

“What, seriously? You don’t know?” she asked. “I’m Rina!”

I stared at her blankly.

“Rina,” she repeated. Another blank stare from me.

“Nice to meet you,” she continued. “Or me, I guess.” She giggled.

“You’re not me,” I said. Except that she kind of was. Actually, she totally was, except for the fact that instead of flannel jammie pants and a T-shirt, she had on a fuzzy pink tracksuit and a ton of lip gloss. And body glitter. Her cheekbones and the backs of her hands were completely covered in body glitter. Ew, tacky. What was going on here?

When in doubt and fearing for your own sanity, be rude. “What kind of a freak name is Rina?” I demanded.

“Um, the freak name you gave me ’cause you thought it was a cooler nickname for Katerina than Kate,” she said. “Hello! You signed on last night! Finally! It’s been forever!” She pointed happily at my computer. I looked too. It was still frozen, the “Welcome to SimuLife!” window stuck open.

Oh no. Wait. The wheels turned in my head . . . Simu-Life . . . what kind of a game was SimuLife, and what did it have to do with this girl in my—oh. Uh oh.

Duh.

She was the version of me from the game. Th at made no sense, but it sort of made sense. Leave it to my hallucination to sort of make sense. “So . . . you’re my SimuLife self?” I asked shakily, blinking a few times in a mixture of confusion and horror.

“Yeah!” Rina nodded happily. “I knew we were smart! Thanks for busting me out. The last time we saw each other was what, eighth grade? It’s been a while.”

We stared at each other for a moment, then my alarm clock went off again. Th anks, snooze button. But the repetitive blare gave me a sudden moment of clarity. I jumped off my bed, walked over to my computer, and yanked out the power cord. Good-bye, SimuLife! Good-bye, weird girl in my room!

I turned around. Rina was still there.

about the author

Cherry Cheva
(full name: Cherry Chevapravatdumrong) is originally from Ann Arbor, Michigan. She currently lives in Los Angeles and writes for the animated series Family Guy.
SHE´S SO MONEY
is her first novel.

For exclusive information on your favorite authors and artists, visit www.authortracker.com.

credits page

Cover design by Andrea C. Uva

HarperTeen is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.

She’s So Money
Copyright © 2008 by Alloy Entertainment and Watanee Chevapravatdumrong

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EPub Edition © February 2009 ISBN: 9780061881503

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Library of Congress catalog card number: 2007037432