Switched At Birth I Copied Your Crimes

I am a born mimic. Whatever they did, I did back, often with a ruthless, escalating accuracy. Pop-Pop said my long hair meant short wits and cut it off. So, I waited until he was asleep and cut the longest thing I could find on him. Nana, furious, sold me to some strange man. So, I waited for a moment of inattention, shoved her into his rusty pickup truck, took the thousand dollars he paid for me, and bought myself enough junk food to last a week. I was happily gorging on chips when a sleek, black Rolls-Royce pulled up to the shack. A woman with tear tracks and a pearl necklace informed me I was Rue Ashworth, the true heiress, switched at birth. My real parents, Richard and Eliza Ashworth, dabbed at their eyes with silk handkerchiefs and pushed a girl in a spotless dress toward me. “Rue, Briar is your sister now. You need to get along with her.” The fake heiress, Briar, smiled sweetly and called me “Sister.” The next day, while we were shopping at Bergdorf’s, she slipped a million-dollar diamond necklace into my jacket pocket and then casually accused me of theft. I blinked. Then, I copied her move, pulling the necklace from my pocket and swiftly tucking it into Dad’s—Richard Ashworth’s—back pocket.

1 The moment the necklace was “discovered” missing, the air in the jewelry department turned instantly cold. Briar Ashworth covered her mouth, her eyes fixed on me with a knowing, saccharine pity. “Sister,” she murmured, loud enough for a sales associate to hear. “I know people from the sticks are always sticky-fingered, but you’re an Ashworth now. You shouldn’t embarrass the name like this.” My parents and my older brother, Holden, turned their gazes on me, heavy with disgust and disappointment. I was, in their minds, the thief. But I didn’t wait for the interrogation. I simply copied the most extreme reaction I could think of. I ripped off my jacket and sweater in one clean, startling movement. “I didn’t take it!” The sheer vulgarity of the action, the startling flash of skin in the luxury store, stunned them into silence. Mom rushed forward to cover me with my jacket. “Rue, what are you doing? It’s fine if it’s not you. Briar has a quick temper, don’t mind her.” I nodded, accepting the apology I hadn’t asked for. Then, I turned to Briar, copying the exact, veiled suspicion she’d just worn. I covered my mouth and lowered my voice. “I think I saw you take that necklace, Briar. If you have it, you should really take it out. Don’t make things worse.” Briar jumped. “You’re lying! I did not!” I ignored her, acting as her emotional echo chamber, repeating her words back with subtle changes. “But it was only us and our parents here. If it wasn’t you or me, was it Mom? Or Dad? Or Holden?” An embarrassed flush crept up their necks. The store manager was hovering, agitated. “That’s enough,” Dad sighed. “We’ll all be searched. Briar, don’t worry, we know it’s not you. We’re doing this together.” But the next moment, their embarrassment became full-blown shock. The missing necklace was found in the back pocket of my father’s tailored trousers. The store manager looked at the CEO of Ashworth Industries like a common shoplifter. I gasped, copying Briar’s former smug expression and adding a theatrical wink. “See? Told you city folk were sticky-fingered.” Dad’s face went crimson. “I am a CEO! I didn’t steal a necklace! This is preposterous. Check the security feed! Now!” Briar tried to stop him, but my father was desperate to clear his name. The footage showed Briar quickly pocketing the necklace, then slyly slipping it into my jacket pocket. And then it showed me, seconds later, slipping it just as slyly into Dad’s. Confronted, Briar started to sob uncontrollably, clutching her chest like she was about to faint. I rushed over, performed a flawless, movie-style round of CPR to revive her, brought her back to startled life… and then promptly gave a dramatic ‘Guh-buh!’ and collapsed myself. My parents and Holden scrambled to hold me, calling for a medic. Briar, jolted back to consciousness by my overzealous chest compressions, stood motionless, speechless with fury. Heh. That’s just how students of human behavior operate. When I woke up, my entire new family was surrounding the hospital bed. “The doctor says it’s malnutrition, Rue. You’ve suffered too much.” “Briar just lacks a sense of security, dear. You shouldn’t blame her. We’ve told her to apologize.” Briar, tearful, presented me with a box of fried chicken, mumbling an apology. “Sister, I specially made this fried chicken for you.” Mom and Dad beamed with satisfaction. “Rue, d it. It’s Briar’s way of showing she cares.” 2 I eyed the chicken. A faint sheen of oil drifted across the weak, beneath which the glassy eyes of a half-dead chicken stared up at me. It looked utterly unappetizing. But I obediently accepted the container. A fleeting look of triumph crossed Briar’s face. Then, I dramatically grabbed my head and sank back onto the pillow. “My head. It’s pounding. I’m so dizzy.” Mom and Dad panicked, calling the nurse. Only Holden, my brother, looked cold and skeptical. “Rue, Briar spent hours to learn how to make the fired chicken. Her hands are blistered. Are you pretending to be sick because you just don’t want to eat it?” I rolled my eyes, then copied an act of exaggerated virtue. “I’m so sorry, Holden. This broth is my sister’s precious gift. I can’t bear to waste it. Please, you eat it for me.” Just as some saintly child in a fable might offer the best portion to an elder, Rue offered the poison to her brother. Holden, delighted by my generosity, proudly accepted the container. Briar lunged to stop him, but it was too late. Holden downed the entire thing in one gulp. The next second, his face flushed crimson, he clawed at his throat, and collapsed to the floor. “H-help…” The doctor called in to treat my “dizziness” rushed Holden off to the ER. Two hours later, he was successfully installed in the bed next to mine. “Briar, what exactly did you put in that broth?” Dad demanded. Briar continued to sob and refused to admit anything. But from then on, my parents were extremely cautious. They forbade Briar from preparing any food for either of us. I happily stayed in the hospital for two weeks, eating room service and gaining a noticeable five pounds. When I finally returned to the family’s three-story home, Briar was waiting in my new bedroom with all of her designer clothes, jewelry, and several bank cards. “Sister, all of this should have been yours. I’m returning it to its rightful owner. Just please—please don’t kick me out. Just give me a place to stay.” Ah? I copied her, falling to the floor and wailing, pushing the pile of loot back toward her. “Sister, I can’t take these. They’re yours! Please, I beg you, don’t kick me out! Just give me a place to stay!” Briar’s tears stopped mid-sob. She ground her teeth and sank to her knees again. “I’m begging you, Sister.” I copied her again, falling to my knees opposite her. “I’m begging you, Sister.” When my parents opened the door, they found Briar and me facing each other on the floor, weeping and clutching the haul of clothes and gold, as if performing a bizarre, tear-soaked ritual. Mom’s eye twitched. They almost called a priest. Instead, they split the non-clothing items equally between us. Briar seethed, forcing a smile. I smiled, too, but mine was genuine. Selling Nana only got me a thousand dollars. This pile of jewelry was worth a thousand Nanas. My parents didn’t understand my sudden joy. Mom gently stroked my hair. “Rue, you’ll have everything Briar has, from now on.” They meant it. Because Briar had a fiancé—a promising young man from a powerful family. So, two days later, they found me one of my own: Harrison Vance, from a family of equal standing to Briar’s fiancé, Grant Song. “His parents said you two should date for a bit before the engagement party.” Harrison looked at me with open distaste, but his eyes were full of an unspoken, longing affection when they landed on Briar. The first time we met, he didn’t so much look at me as look past me, striding right up to Briar. “Briar,” he purred. “May I call you that from now on?” 3 Briar shyly consented, shooting me a triumphant glance. Harrison gave her expensive jewelry. He gave me a generic silk scarf—a promotional gift-with-purchase. He bought her a custom gown. He sent me a coupon for a spa. He and Briar were caught in a stairwell making out. He gave me… nothing. My complimentary item had been fully revoked. But I had learned. I found Grant Song, Briar’s intended fiancé, and I stole kisses from him. Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss. He wasn’t as tall as Harrison, but he was sweet enough to bend down so I could reach. While Harrison and Briar were busy having a clandestine affair and burning through cash, Grant and I were busy having a sweet, clandestine affair and being perfectly pleasant. My parents watched our supposed sisterly harmony and smiled, satisfied. “This is better,” Dad said. “You girls should spend more time together. Briar, take Rue out and introduce her to your friends.” So Briar, Harrison, and a large group of her socialite friends decided to take me hiking in a remote wilderness area. Briar’s friends barely spoke to me, only exchanging knowing glances. “You can’t polish a turd,” one whispered, loud enough to be overheard. Briar stood at the center of her court like a spoiled princess. “My sister is from a dirt farm, and she brought all her backwater habits with her. She grew up with a couple of old people, and the day we picked her up, she smelled like…” A few girls instantly covered their noses, fanning themselves dramatically. I understood. This was the moment for vicious, social-climbing gossip. “It’s true, I grew up with them. But Briar is their blood,” I chimed in, perfectly mimicking her casual cruelty. “They were anti-laundry, anti-shower. She inherited the ‘unwashed’ gene. Sometimes she goes weeks without changing her clothes or washing her feet.” I covered my nose and fanned the air. “That’s why she always has that faint whiff of… old gym sock.” The girls took two shocked steps back. Briar looked ready to pull off her shoes and swear to a jury she scrubbed her feet daily. “You liar! I shower every day!” Her friends nodded politely, but I noticed the frantic, silent texting taking place beneath their fanning hands. Briar bit her lip, terrified I would unleash another, more damaging truth. On the fifth day of our camping trip, Briar brought me a carton of milk. “Sister, milk helps you sleep. Drink it and have a wonderful rest.” I smiled and nodded, then turned and presented the milk to Harrison. “Briar sent this. She said milk helps you sleep well.” Harrison, unsuspecting, drank the whole thing down. The next morning, Briar woke everyone up at dawn. They all tip-toed out to the SUVs. “This place is isolated, full of wildlife. By the time that backwater little hick wakes up, it’ll be noon.” “She’ll lose her mind when she realizes everyone’s gone!” “I even put a signal jammer on the campsite. She won’t even be able to call the police! She’s going to have a rough time.” I, being the accomplished student of human behavior I am, had quietly followed their lead and crept into the back of the SUV. Hours later, as we drove into the city, they were still chattering about how hysterical and terrified I would be, their laughter loud and high-pitched. The noise woke me up. I couldn’t resist letting out a little giggle of my own. Briar and her friends froze, their necks snapping around. “What was that noise? Rue? How are you here?” “If she’s here… then who did we leave at the campsite?” 4 When Harrison was found, his face was like thunder, his arms covered in scratches from stumbling through the brush. He charged at me, ready to slap me. But I hadn’t driven the car. I hadn’t put the sleeping aid in the milk. I had only copied Briar’s “gift.” A quick set of questions revealed the truth. My parents’ faces were sickly pale. They apologized profusely to Harrison’s parents. But they insisted Briar wasn’t “wicked.” “Rue, dear, Briar is just… lacking in judgment, but she’s not evil. Besides, you and Harrison are getting married soon. This would make a spectacle if we let it get out.” I nodded and looked at Harrison. “Yes, Harrison, Briar was just playing a silly trick. She’s not evil.” Harrison was forced to swallow his rage. He shot me a venomous look that promised future revenge. The engagement date loomed. Harrison and Briar whispered constantly, their eyes burning with a poisonous, shared malice aimed at me. But I hadn’t forgotten the insult of the gift-with-purchase. So, on the day of the engagement, standing before two hundred guests, I gave the engagement ring to Grant Song, Briar’s fiancé, and presented the velvet box to Harrison. I pointed at the empty, crimson box. “This is for you.” Harrison looked at the box and at the genuine diamond sparkling on Grant’s finger, as if he’d been publicly violated. Briar snorted out a laugh. “Sister, the engagement ring goes on your fiancé’s hand. Did you seriously not know that?” I was a student of human behavior. Of course, I knew. I copied Harrison’s worst snobbery, tilting my chin up forty-five degrees, my eyes conveying five parts contempt, three parts arrogance, and two parts icy disdain. “What kind of person deserves what kind of thing. In my eyes, this,” I gestured to the empty box, “is exactly what he’s earned.” With a toss of my hair, I walked off the stage, leaving a sputtering, enraged Harrison behind. My parents desperately tried to smooth things over. Holden insisted I apologize. But Harrison had never apologized to me. I hadn’t learned that move. I ignored them and went to the buffet. As Dad and Holden mingled, a waiter with shifty eyes approached me. He claimed Mom had twisted her ankle and needed me to check on her upstairs. A thick layer of malice seemed to cling to him—I could almost taste the coming disaster. I pretended not to notice. When we reached the room, just as he opened the door, he raised his foot, attempting to kick me inside. Years of mimicry had taught me the swift reading of intent. The moment his foot lifted, I was prepared. I hooked my heel behind his and sent him tumbling into the dark room. The room was pitch black. A figure hidden behind the door immediately slammed something into the waiter’s head. He crumpled. A gruff voice from inside muttered, “Well, hello, pretty thing. Someone paid me to ruin you. You’re about to have your biggest society scandal.” Click. The door locked shut. Hearing the lock, Briar stepped out from an adjacent room. She didn’t see me hiding behind a large potted fern. She smirked at the closed door. “Rue. There’s only room for one daughter in the Ashworth house. I’ve prepared a lovely surprise for you. From now on, they’ll never look at you the same way.” “Competing with me? You don’t deserve to.” I watched her, secretly nodding. Ah, that’s how it works. I felt a sudden rush of understanding, a cognitive leap. My parents told me to learn from Briar. I decided to learn the newest, most complex lesson she had just taught me. I got to work. After a long time, my masterpiece was complete. I waited, excited for the praise I knew I would receive. They would be so proud. A few minutes later, Briar, Mom, and Harrison’s parents, trailed by a nervous crowd, rushed toward the room. “Briar, are you sure the waiter said it was this room? I told her she couldn’t have seafood. How could her allergy be this bad?” Mom said, her voice laced with worry. Briar looked down, a triumphant smile tugging at her lips. “Mom, we need to hurry! If Sister has a life-threatening reaction, it will be too late!” She flung the door open! “Sister, I’m coming in to help you, okay?” The next second, every eye in the corridor went wide. Gasps and screams echoed off the marble walls. Briar’s eyes went saucer-wide. She stumbled back. “How… how did this happen?”