Another Me by Cathy MacPhail Read Free Book Online Page B

cloning and find out more.
    Next morning I left for school after Mum and Dad had gone off to work. In the hall I looked at myself in the mirror, at my shiny fair hair, at my bright blue eyes. It was hard to believe there was another, somewhere, just like me. Exactly like me. Almost impossible to believe.
    But it had to be true. There was no other explanation.
    As I came out of our house the door leading to the stairs was just banging shut. I could hear footsteps on the landing. Oh no, I thought, please don’t let the lift be broken again!
    But to my relief there was Mrs Brennan, waiting patiently. It was Tuesday, her pension day.
    â€˜The lift’s definitely working?’ I asked her.
    She pursed her lips. ‘Oh, talking to me now are you? I’ve just told you the lift was working and you ignored me. In this day and age manners seem to be a thing of the past.’
    I grew cold. ‘You told me—? When?’
    She looked annoyed now. ‘Just now.’ She pointed a finger to the stairway doors. ‘Did you change your mind about going down the stairs?’
    Just now. Going down the stairs.
    I had seen the door banging shut. Heard the footsteps.
    Her. The other one.
    I gasped. That must mean . . .
she
was there now, on the stairs.
    Mrs Brennan stepped towards me. ‘What’s the matter, hen? You’ve gone as white as death.’
    But already I was turning away from her, ignoring her. This time, if I ran, I would catch her. I was going to find out the truth.
    I hauled open the door to the stairs and listened.
    Clip-clip-clip. Feet on the stairs, tapping out their descent. Shoes just like mine.
    I stepped on to the landing and looked over the railing. From here I could see all thirteen floors spiralling down through the gloomy stairwell.
    My heart went into overdrive. There was a hand on the stair railing, only two floors down. A girl’s hand. A hand like mine. I jumped back, in that second afraid of what I might come face to face with. But only for a second. It had to be confronted. This had to be finished. Here in the echoing stairwell was surely better than a pitch black school corridor at night.
    All at once, I was running, my feet clattering wildly on the stairs. Floor by floor. Flight by flight. Swinging myself round on each landing. Faster and faster. As I speeded up, it seemed so did she.
    At the ninth floor I stopped suddenly, my hand poised on the railing. I glanced down. She had stopped too. This other one, and I could see her delicate hand on the railing exactly as mine was. It took all my courage to call out to her.
    â€˜Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?’
    As I waited for her answer I felt as if my heart had stopped beating.
    â€˜Who are you?’ I screamed again.
    It seemed to me I heard a muffled giggle. Was it my imagination, or was she laughing at me?
    Whatever it was it made me angry and my anger spurred me on. I ran faster than ever down the stairs though my legs were aching, and I could feel the blood pounding in my temples. But I would catch her. I had to.
    Yet, no matter how fast I ran, she ran every bit as fast.
    I stopped again at the fourth floor for only a second, and glanced down. Was she closer now? Was I catching up with her? This time I didn’t call out. I wasn’t going to waste my breath. I ran even faster.
    Down and down.
    Still I couldn’t catch her.
    â€˜Stop!’ I yelled breathlessly. ‘Stop! Let me see you.’
    I was so afraid I was going to miss her again.
    Knew that I was.
    I heard her feet on the last step, saw the sunlight flood in as the street door was pushed open. Heard her footsteps echoing into the distance as they hurried into the street.
    I was only seconds behind her, only seconds pushing through into the street. I was almost in tears. She must be somewhere close.
    The street was busy. Pupils just like me hurrying to school. Mothers pushing toddlers in prams towards the shops. Pensioners heading