Miguel’s eyes grew wide as he read the text. He looked up at Caitlyn, face contorted in shock. “Holy shit. You’re Caitlyn?”

  Caitlyn’s chest heaved as she struggled to breathe. “What do you mean?” It came out in a dry rasp.

  Wordlessly, Miguel slid the phone across the table.

  Caitlyn picked it up and read the message:

  Hey darling just wanted to let you know I’m on my way to Colorado! Caitlyn agreed to cover for me, so if you see me at work it’s not really me! Shhh don’t tell anyone. And don’t say anything to Caitlyn because she would freak out.

  A series of emojis followed, one with a finger to its lips and a few different smiles followed by a heart.

  Hand shaking, she dropped the phone on the table. I’m going to kill Chloe. Then she remembered what Miguel inadvertently told her—that Chloe really did care about her job search. Chloe could be impulsive and reckless, but Caitlyn loved her. I have to get through this for both of us.

  “I should have known something was wrong!” Miguel said. “You look identical, but your personality is obviously different. And Chloe would never miss 90 Day Fiancé. Damn, I can’t believe this.”

  “Okay,” Caitlyn whispered. “I’m not denying it, but I can’t talk about this here.” She glanced behind her. They were the only ones seated, but a small line had formed at the register.

  Miguel pushed back his chair and stood. “Come on, we can go to my office. Then you have to tell me everything!”

  * * *

  Miguel led Caitlyn down a hall of faculty offices, past overflowing bulletin boards and a poster of William Shakespeare, to an office at the back of the building. The nameplate on the door said Miguel Fumero, Assistant Professor.

  “Sorry, it’s a bit chaotic. I’m getting ready for summer session.” Miguel closed the door behind them. “We can finish eating here.” He dropped his sandwich on a small, circular table in the corner and sat on one of the chairs. “All right, I can’t stand it any longer. What’s going on? When is Chloe coming back?”

  Caitlyn sank into the opposite chair. She placed her salad in front of her, but she’d lost her appetite. “How much do you know about Nick? And Colorado?”

  “I know that Nick bought her a ticket, but she couldn’t get time off work and she was thinking of quitting. I told her to stay here and visit another time, but she was obviously conflicted about it. Anyway, I haven’t talked to her since last week.”

  “Well, when I got home, she was determined to go on the trip. She was going to quit her job—but somehow, against all reason and sense, I agreed to take her place for the week. Honestly, I still can’t believe I got talked into it. I was in a bad place, and my mom piled on the guilt, and I caved. I promise I don’t normally do things like this.”

  “Ah, that’s genius!” Miguel didn’t look even slightly upset or judgmental. “So she can visit Nick and keep her job! Wow, it’s really nice of you to do this for her.”

  “That’s one word for it. I’ve been feeling like I lost my head.” Caitlyn looked him in the eyes. “You can’t tell anyone. Not a single soul. Please promise me.”

  “I would never!” Miguel held out his palms. “I promise. Chloe is my best friend at Pulaski. I wouldn’t do that to her—or to you.”

  “Okay. Thank you. So how do you know Chloe?”

  He brightened. “One day I had to drop something off at Dr. Holloway’s office, and when I got there, Chloe was watching one of my favorite makeup artists on YouTube. We got to talking, and she’s really sweet and hilarious. So we started hanging out.”

  “Cool.” Caitlyn had a hard time imagining that Ruth Holloway tolerated her assistant watching YouTube on the clock. She supposed this was additional evidence for Chloe’s claim that Ruth didn’t pay attention to her. “So what do you think of Chloe’s Internet boyfriend?”

  “He sounds nice.” Miguel shrugged. “I just hope they get along in person. And even if they have a good time together this week, long-distance is tough.” Sadness passed over his face.

  “It’s none of my business,” Caitlyn said slowly, “but you sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

  “Yeah.” Spots of color appeared on his cheeks. “I’m in a long-distance marriage. My husband lives in Vancouver.”

  “Oh wow. That’s so far away. I’m sorry to hear that, although I can’t say I’m surprised. A lot of academics are in the same situation. So his job is in Vancouver?”

  “Well, yes, but that’s not the problem.” Miguel’s teeth caught his lip as he seemed to debate whether to trust Caitlyn. “He’s not eligible to come to this country.”

  Caitlyn resisted the impulse to ask why. “That’s a rough situation.”

  “You’re not going to ask what he did?”

  “It doesn’t matter to me. Besides, you just met me, and I’m actively committing fraud. I’m not in a position to judge your husband—not that I would anyway.”

  “I appreciate it, and that’s why I’ll tell you.” He took a deep breath. “Preston had a difficult childhood. Well, that’s an understatement. He got into drugs, and he caught a trafficking charge when he was eighteen. After that, he got help, went to college, and became a nurse. But even though he’s been clean for a decade, the US won’t let him in. So that’s why he couldn’t move here.” Miguel watched Caitlyn closely as he spoke.

  “That’s awful. They shouldn’t ban him for a teenage mistake.” Caitlyn hoped her face conveyed her sincerity and her lack of condemnation. “I’m on your side. Truly. He should be able to come with you.”

  Miguel nodded sadly, the strain written all over his face. “We have one of the best immigration lawyers, but the authorities won’t budge. And the only job offer I got was here, so that’s why we’re long distance.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I really don’t know. Last year, I applied to every listing for poetry faculty in Canada—all two of them. I’ll go on the market this year too. But if nothing changes, I might need to choose between my marriage and this career.”

  “That’s horrible. You shouldn’t be in this situation. I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks. Um, I didn’t mean to get so personal when we just met. Maybe it’s because you look like Chloe.”

  “That’s reassuring, I suppose—that I look like her. I’ve been so been terrified that someone will find out.”

  “I promise Dr. Holloway won’t know the difference. Now that you know your way around, you’ll be golden for the rest of the week.”

  The rest of the week. Caitlyn recalled her earlier vow to quit at the end of the day. In the heat of her rage, she’d been certain, but now she wasn’t sure. Meeting Miguel had reminded her why she was there in the first place—for Chloe, who really did care about Caitlyn’s job search. She didn’t know what to do.

  Caitlyn sloshed her root beer back and forth. “You keep calling her Dr. Holloway. Does everyone? When Chloe talks about her, she always says Ruth.”

  Miguel laughed. “I think Chloe likes to imagine she’s on a first-name basis with everyone. Most of us wouldn’t dare, at least not before tenure.”

  “Yeah, I already have the sense that she’s not too friendly with the faculty.”

  “No, and it’s mutual. She’s smart, and I guess she works hard, but she doesn’t care what we think about anything. Faculty want shared governance. They expect a seat at the table, not to be informed after she already made a decision.”

  “She must think she knows better than the people who actually do the work.” Caitlyn rolled her eyes. “Typical administration. They should all be shot into the sun.”

  “Don’t let Dr. Holloway know you feel that way.” He grinned and took a big bite of his sandwich.

  “I won’t. I plan to avoid her for the rest of the day, and honestly…” She braced herself for Miguel’s disappointment. “I’m not sure how much longer I can do this.”

  Miguel covered his mouth. “Oh no. Why?”

  “How can I spend a whole week as Ruth’s assistant? She’s awful. It’s bad enough that I’m surrounded by everything I can’t have. On top of that, I’m supposed to fetch coffee for a stuck-up administrator who is actively damaging the labor market. Chloe made her job sound boring. I didn’t know it would be torture.”

  “But four more days won’t be so bad.” Miguel anxiously twisted and pinched his straw. “Anyway, the job comes with some perks. Like—like you can use the library for your research!”

  “I can?” Caitlyn hadn’t considered this. “Chloe can check out books?”

  “Absolutely.” He nodded vigorously. “Staff have the same privileges as students. You can access loads of journals online!”

  “I have been worried about keeping up with research now that I’ve lost my grad school credentials.” Caitlyn frowned. “It figures that Chloe would have access to academic journals but not me. What a world.”

  Miguel beamed. “But if you cover for Chloe, you can read all the sociology you want!”

  It wasn’t that she wanted to read more sociology. After grad school, her brain was fried. But she’d need resources to work on new papers for conferences and journals. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Good. Plus you can see how administration works from the inside. Who knows, maybe you’ll learn something that helps you on the market next year.”

  “So far, I’m learning what I already know—adjunct labor is cheaper than hiring faculty, and administrators don’t care.” She stabbed a mound of lettuce with too much force. “Ruth certainly doesn’t.”

  “Well, maybe you can meet some sociology professors. You could even come to department events if they’ve got any scheduled this week.” He was like a telemarketer desperate to stop her from hanging up. “Maybe it could even help you get a job here one day! You can network as Chloe and talk up your sister. I mean yourself. You know what I mean.”

  Caitlyn had zero plans to mention her existence to anyone else at Pulaski. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m trying to stay under the radar until I can go home in a few hours.” And I probably won’t be back.

  * * *

  When Caitlyn entered the house, her mom was waiting at the kitchen table, clasping her mug with both hands. “Well? How was it?”

  “I don’t even know where to begin. At first, it was terrifying. I was ready to turn around and get my brain examined for even considering this ridiculous plan. But then Ruth—Dr. Holloway, whatever—saw me, and I had to stay for the day.”

  “Did everyone think you were Chloe?” The tremor in her mom’s voice betrayed her anxiety. She’d probably spent the whole day worrying about both of her daughters.

  “Yeah. No one suspected—well except for her friend Miguel, but only because Chloe flat out told him.” Caitlyn grabbed a glass from the kitchen cabinet and filled it with tap water.

  “Oh yes, Chloe mentioned him once or twice. The gay poetry professor.”

  “Yes. He’s a sweet guy. But Ruth is awful. She’s arrogant and insensitive and personally responsible for replacing full-time faculty with adjunct labor. I don’t know how I can stand to be her assistant for four more days.”

  Her mom’s thumb moved up and down the handle of the mug. “Oh, honey, I’m sure it will go by faster than you think. And it means a lot to me that you’re holding the job for Chloe.”

  “How is Chloe? Have you heard from her since she landed?”

  Her mom pointed to her phone. “She texted us. Didn’t you get it?”

  Caitlyn pulled her phone out of her purse and saw the notification. “I must have been driving.” She swiped, revealing a selfie of Chloe with a man in his thirties. He had black, curly hair and big eyes. They beamed at the camera, his arm around her shoulders in a side-hug while their heads touched.

  Who are you, really? Caitlyn scrutinized Nick’s face, searching for some sign of his true intentions. Had he been honest with Chloe when they’d talked online? Did he really care about her? “Well. I’m glad she got there safely.”

  “Yes, but we need her to come back.” Her mom trapped Caitlyn with a pleading gaze. “You’re not quitting, are you?”

  Caitlyn looked down at the photo again. Chloe looked bright and happy—the way she looked when she threw herself into some new adventure without a care in the world. If it didn’t work out, she’d be crushed.

  The first day at Pulaski had been harrowing, but she’d survived. She’d fooled everyone, even Miguel. A few more days could give Chloe security.

  This is something I can do for my sister, for my family. Determination swelled in her chest. Screw Ruth Holloway. “No. I’m not quitting.”

  “You’ll go in the rest of the week?” Hope filled her mother’s voice.

  God help me. “Yes.”

  A relieved smile spread across her mother’s face. “Thank you, honey.”

  She took a big swig of water. “You’re welcome. I’m going upstairs.”

  Caitlyn went upstairs to her childhood bedroom. Every time she entered it, she felt transported in time. Most of the decorations were from her teenage years—posters of pop stars and photographs taken with friends who had since moved far away from Linvale.

  She walked over to her closet door, where she’d hung a photo of her and Chloe at their sixteenth birthday party, grinning with identical tiaras atop their heads. A sadness passed over her. She and Chloe cared for each other, but they hadn’t been close since high school—the last time they’d been in the same place.

  Caitlyn could spot herself in any photo taken with Chloe, but she wondered how many of her friends and acquaintances would mix them up. Ruth hadn’t clocked her as an impostor, but what if she saw them side-by-side? Would she be able to spot her real assistant?

  These days, the most obvious difference was their hair. Caitlyn walked over to her mirror and pulled off her headband, letting her grown-out bangs flop into her face. Then she pulled out the hair ties and let her hair fall to her shoulders.

  Her boxes and suitcases were still on the floor in a heap. She opened the box containing items from her bathroom and dug around until she found her shears. Thanks to her meager stipend in grad school, she’d been cutting her own hair for years.

  She yanked Chloe’s ID badge from her shirt and set it on the edge of the mirror for reference. Chloe had sparse bangs that skimmed her eyebrows, with a few longer strands near her ears. The rest of her hair was about an inch shorter than Caitlyn’s.

  Growing out her bangs has taken years. But she couldn’t walk around with longer hair if she expected to last another four days in Chloe’s place. And despite her better judgment, she’d committed to seeing it through.

  Holding her breath, she pinched a lock of hair between her fingers and lifted the shears. She snipped one strand and then another. As her reflection slowly morphed into one that more closely resembled Chloe, an unexpected feeling of loss stabbed at her chest. The unique identity she’d worked so hard to establish was falling around her on the floor—and the worst part was that no one would wonder where Caitlyn had gone, since she lacked a place in the world to vacate.

  Twenty minutes later, a rough approximation of Chloe’s haircut stared back at her. She blinked, feeling the weight of the false eyelashes. As long as she didn’t look closely, she could imagine it was Chloe’s reflection.

  Four years of college, seven years of grad school, and I’m back here playing pretend.

  Caitlyn took a steadying breath and reminded herself that the gig would be over by the weekend. When she was done living Chloe’s life, she could get back to dealing with her own.

  Chapter 4

  When Ruth reached her office, the suite was dark, and there was no sign of Chloe. Yesterday’s early arrival must have been an aberration. She hoped Chloe’s foul mood was also in the past. Whatever the reason, it was unsettling when her assistant radiated hostile energy throughout the day.

  As she unlocked the double doors, rapid footsteps approached behind her. She turned to see Jenn Christiansen marching toward the suite.

  Jenn wore a button-down shirt and faded blue jeans, the uniform of tenured faculty who hadn’t bothered with their appearance in decades. Beneath her short-cropped, gray hair, tension creased her forehead, and her mouth was a grim line.

  What now? Ruth took a deep breath and smiled. “Good morning, Dr. Christiansen.”

  Jenn ignored the greeting and held up a folded piece of paper. “I’d like a word about a memo we received from student services.”

  “Of course. Please come in.” Ruth held the door for Jenn.

  They walked past Chloe’s vacant desk into Ruth’s office, where Jenn immediately plopped down at the conference table. She crossed her legs and sat back as though she owned the place.

  That’s how they think. Tenured faculty run the college, and I’m their glorified subordinate.

  “It’s hot in here,” Jenn said. “Is the AC broken?”

  Ruth set her purse on the desk. “I’ve put in numerous work orders, and they assure me it’s all in my head.” She took a seat across from Jenn. “You said this is about a memo?”

  “Yes.” Jenn smoothed the paper on the table. Most of the sentences were underlined in red pen. “It says that starting with summer classes—meaning, next week—all faculty are required to record attendance in GradesFirst.”

  “That’s right.” Ruth shot her a questioning look. And?

  Jenn jabbed the paper. “We want to know why you’re making it mandatory.”

  Ah. That was an easy one. “Because we already tried making it voluntary, and less than forty percent of you participated.”

  “What I mean—”

  “Look, Pulaski’s retention rate is abysmal. Only sixty percent of our freshmen come back for sophomore year. We need to intervene early, when there’s still time to help, but we don’t know which students are at risk of dropping out unless the faculty tell us.”