Chapter 7: The Stalker Story

By breakfast, Brielle's post had four thousand shares.

By lunch, it had a nickname.

The Fake Fake Heiress.

Somebody made a meme of my face on a cleaning cart with a tiara.

In my history lecture, the girl next to me moved one seat over.

In the coffee line, a boy in a backwards cap offered to call my mommy to mop up the milk.

I paid for my coffee and poured it in the trash and walked home.

Trudy was in the kitchen in her scrubs, shredding cheese.

Brodie was sitting on our counter eating the cheese as fast as she shredded it.

They both stopped when I came in.

"Okay," I said. "I need to tell you something, and you're going to think I'm crazy."

"We already think you're crazy," Trudy said. "Go."

I put my bag down.

"My name isn't Liv Mabry. It's Olivia Haldane."

Trudy's grater stopped.

"And the girl calling herself Brielle Haldane used to steal my popsicles."

The kitchen was very quiet.

Then Trudy laughed.

It was a big, honking laugh, the kind that made her snort.

"Oh my God," she said. "Oh my God, you're serious."

"I'm serious."

"You eat cereal out of the box!"

"It's good cereal."

"You've been wearing the same jeans for three weeks!"

"I like these jeans."

She laughed harder.

Then her face crumpled in the middle of it, and she was crying.

"Trudy?"

"You let me give you half my lasagna," she said. "On the first day. I thought you were broke."

"You gave it to me before you knew anything."

"That's the point, you idiot." She wiped her nose on her scrub sleeve. "You were testing me."

"No." I sat down at the table. "I was hiding. You just turned out to be the best thing I found."

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