and managed not to jump when she saw Camille standing in
front of the mirror, staring at her own reflection.
‘Sorry,’ Léna said, backing out.
‘Wait,’ said Camille. ‘Do I scare you?’
She lied. ‘No.’
‘I scare myself,’ said Camille. She took a step towards Léna. ‘What happened to me?’ Another step. Camille went to embrace her, to put her head on
Léna’s shoulder. It was too much. Léna moved back and closed the door, breathing hard. She went to her room and sat, restless, on her bed for over an hour, until she
couldn’t sit any more. Then she went downstairs to find that her parents and Camille were having breakfast around the table.
‘Anyone want a yoghurt?’ asked her mum, overly bright, fussing. ‘Want some tea, Camille?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
Léna watched, frustration growing. Her mum saw the look in her eye and gave her a forced smile.
‘Léna . . . Do you want some coffee, maybe?’
Léna shook her head and took out a cigarette, enjoying the disapproving look her dad gave her. Disapproving, but silent.
Let them shout at me
, she thought,
and I’ll
damn well shout back
. ‘So is this your plan?’ she said.
Her mum looked wary. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Pretend everything is normal?’
‘No,’ said her dad wearily. ‘Nothing is normal. But
this
. . .’ He gestured towards her. ‘This isn’t helping.’
Léna could feel everything bubble up inside her. ‘You’re both crazy,’ she said. ‘How do we even know it’s her? She might be an impostor.’
‘Stop it, Léna,’ said her mum, suddenly looking on the verge of tears.
‘What? It happens. People pose as someone else.’
Camille stood, and shouted back: ‘Who else would I be?’
Léna scowled at her. ‘You’re someone who read about the accident and realized you look like her. So you came here to see what you could get.’
‘You’re being ridiculous,’ said her mum.
‘
I’m
being ridiculous? I tell you who she
can’t
be, Mum. She can’t be Camille.
That’s
ridiculous.’
‘How do you think I feel?’ said Camille. ‘Put yourself in my place.’
‘I don’t care how you feel,’ said Léna. ‘You’re a fucking liar.’
Her dad stood and yelled, glaring at her. ‘That’s enough!’
She glared back for a moment, then walked out, making sure to slam the door hard. She stood in the driveway, fuming. After a few seconds her father came out too.
‘Why are you taking it out on her?’ he said.
‘My God! Doesn’t anyone realize what’s going on here? Camille can’t just come back like this. It’s not possible.’ She looked at her dad, loading her voice
with as much sarcasm as she could muster. ‘Is it like
baby Jesus
? She died, and was resurrected?’
‘Please, Léna.’ He looked around at the neighbouring houses. ‘People will hear.’
‘What? You think you can hide her?’ The look of near-shame on his face told her that was exactly what he’d been thinking. ‘If you think it’s so fucking
great
, why not shout about it?’ she said, flinging her arms around and raising her voice. ‘We should throw a big party to celebrate.’
Her dad took hold of her. ‘I said that’s
enough
!’
‘Or what? Will you hit me?’
It was a low blow; her dad’s face fell. He took a long breath before looking up at her, almost despairing. ‘I don’t know how this has happened, but your sister needs
you.’
‘My
sister
died,’ said Léna. ‘Do you understand? She’s dead. And while
that thing
is in the house . . . I won’t be.’
She started walking.
Claire was in the kitchen alone when Jérôme came back in.
‘Where’s Camille?’ he asked.
‘She’s gone to her room. She wants to be left on her own. Maybe she can get some sleep. Where’s Léna?’
‘She’s gone out,’ he said, resigned. ‘She needs some time. Please try not to worry – she’ll come home later. I think I’ll go back to my apartment and
change, if you’ll be OK? I’ll be back soon.’
She
front of the mirror, staring at her own reflection.
‘Sorry,’ Léna said, backing out.
‘Wait,’ said Camille. ‘Do I scare you?’
She lied. ‘No.’
‘I scare myself,’ said Camille. She took a step towards Léna. ‘What happened to me?’ Another step. Camille went to embrace her, to put her head on
Léna’s shoulder. It was too much. Léna moved back and closed the door, breathing hard. She went to her room and sat, restless, on her bed for over an hour, until she
couldn’t sit any more. Then she went downstairs to find that her parents and Camille were having breakfast around the table.
‘Anyone want a yoghurt?’ asked her mum, overly bright, fussing. ‘Want some tea, Camille?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
Léna watched, frustration growing. Her mum saw the look in her eye and gave her a forced smile.
‘Léna . . . Do you want some coffee, maybe?’
Léna shook her head and took out a cigarette, enjoying the disapproving look her dad gave her. Disapproving, but silent.
Let them shout at me
, she thought,
and I’ll
damn well shout back
. ‘So is this your plan?’ she said.
Her mum looked wary. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Pretend everything is normal?’
‘No,’ said her dad wearily. ‘Nothing is normal. But
this
. . .’ He gestured towards her. ‘This isn’t helping.’
Léna could feel everything bubble up inside her. ‘You’re both crazy,’ she said. ‘How do we even know it’s her? She might be an impostor.’
‘Stop it, Léna,’ said her mum, suddenly looking on the verge of tears.
‘What? It happens. People pose as someone else.’
Camille stood, and shouted back: ‘Who else would I be?’
Léna scowled at her. ‘You’re someone who read about the accident and realized you look like her. So you came here to see what you could get.’
‘You’re being ridiculous,’ said her mum.
‘
I’m
being ridiculous? I tell you who she
can’t
be, Mum. She can’t be Camille.
That’s
ridiculous.’
‘How do you think I feel?’ said Camille. ‘Put yourself in my place.’
‘I don’t care how you feel,’ said Léna. ‘You’re a fucking liar.’
Her dad stood and yelled, glaring at her. ‘That’s enough!’
She glared back for a moment, then walked out, making sure to slam the door hard. She stood in the driveway, fuming. After a few seconds her father came out too.
‘Why are you taking it out on her?’ he said.
‘My God! Doesn’t anyone realize what’s going on here? Camille can’t just come back like this. It’s not possible.’ She looked at her dad, loading her voice
with as much sarcasm as she could muster. ‘Is it like
baby Jesus
? She died, and was resurrected?’
‘Please, Léna.’ He looked around at the neighbouring houses. ‘People will hear.’
‘What? You think you can hide her?’ The look of near-shame on his face told her that was exactly what he’d been thinking. ‘If you think it’s so fucking
great
, why not shout about it?’ she said, flinging her arms around and raising her voice. ‘We should throw a big party to celebrate.’
Her dad took hold of her. ‘I said that’s
enough
!’
‘Or what? Will you hit me?’
It was a low blow; her dad’s face fell. He took a long breath before looking up at her, almost despairing. ‘I don’t know how this has happened, but your sister needs
you.’
‘My
sister
died,’ said Léna. ‘Do you understand? She’s dead. And while
that thing
is in the house . . . I won’t be.’
She started walking.
Claire was in the kitchen alone when Jérôme came back in.
‘Where’s Camille?’ he asked.
‘She’s gone to her room. She wants to be left on her own. Maybe she can get some sleep. Where’s Léna?’
‘She’s gone out,’ he said, resigned. ‘She needs some time. Please try not to worry – she’ll come home later. I think I’ll go back to my apartment and
change, if you’ll be OK? I’ll be back soon.’
She
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