Elina Wainwright - Circle

© Elina Wainwright, 2022

ISBN 978-5-0056-7136-3

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

Los Angeles… The city of pretty girls, hot guys, and good movies. It’s a city where the dreams of anyone willing to take a risk can come true. Including mine. Well, at least that’s what I believe in. So does my sister Lizzie, who’s taking another selfie for her audience of thousands.

«Lizzie, seriously?» I turned to her with a judgmental look.

«I came here to build a modeling career. I have to start working for my audience right now,» she pointed out and made a face for a new photo.

I answered with a doomed exhale.

No, don’t think so. Lizzie is not a typical dumb blonde who thinks every girl’s life is all about Instagram and lactose-free lattes. She graduated high school with the best grades in her class, passed all the tests with perfect scores, and grasped all information on the fly. Lizzie was a genius. But unfortunately for our parents, she decided to become a model, just like our grandmother, who used to shine in the top fashion magazines.

If Lizzie was the genius in our family, I was the oddity with the silly jokes. I carried all sorts of animals into the house, talked to myself, and I was just an ordinary kid. When I was a teenager things changed a little bit. I started to notice that I could sense people’s moods very subtly and I could use it to my advantage. Magic? Empathy! Thanks to it I always had a lot of friends and acquaintances, because I always behaved in such a way that the person felt comfortable around me. To say that I know all the secrets of Quebec is to say nothing. People perceived me as a personal psychologist, and my communication skills turned our house into a witch’s abode. But no, not in its darkest form. If witches existed (and I believe in them – I repeat, I am an oddity), I would be a light witch. In short, if you came to my home, I would give you one of my hundred teas, listen to your sad story, read your cards or runes, and give you free million-dollar advice. Pretty cool, huh?

But in fact – so-so talent. I wish I was a genius like Lizzie. Beautiful and smart… Eh, she’s the future of mankind. And I’m just her twin sister with the dumbest, weirdest genes in the family.

Don’t think that I envy my sister. When you’re an empath, you lose all your feelings (including envy) and start projecting the feelings of those around you.

I loved Lizzie no less than she loved me, and I wished her nothing but success in her career. What was I doing in the City of Angels? I came here to join the label.

Okay, now from the beginning. Even though I thought I was stupid, I could sing. I even had a few dozen songs. The problem was, I hadn’t written a song in two years, and I had to live on something, so I auditioned, and was invited to join a small label in LA. Lizzie, who was just looking for a modeling agency, decided she would go to the City of Angels with me. That’s how we ended up now in the back of a cab, crossing the Golden Gate Bridge.

«Hey, Lindsay,» my sister called to me, «turn here. The first picture in this town,» Lizzie held me close to her and pressed the camera icon on her phone. Well, another bad photo of me on her phone.

«Ladies, here we go,» the cab driver called back.

«Yoo-hoo,» Lizzie shrieked and got out of the cab. «I wonder which house is ours.»

«Yeah,» I echoed her enthusiasm, helping the cab driver get our luggage out.

In front of us was a not-so-chic apartment building. But given that we were only at the beginning of our way, we didn’t choose the best neighborhood to live in. A yellow-and-red brick apartment building, sixteen stories high and with small flower beds in front. Well, all in all, not bad. What can we do, we’re not rich.

«Grab the bags and go!» Lizzie handed me my luggage and paced forward.

Our apartment was on the fourth floor. An agent met us at the front door.

«Welcome to Los Angeles,» he muttered cheerfully.

I couldn’t help but think: «What on earth am I doing here?» Yes, I originally talked Lizzie into moving to L.A. myself, but that’s the way it’s always been in my life. (The roller coaster is a basic principle of my life. Hot – cold. Yes – no. Near – far. I even joked that I was bipolar. Thank goodness, I only have a suspected personality disorder and derealization. It’s not great either, but it’s better than knowing you have an incurable illness that requires you to take pills for the rest of your life and almost always leads to suicide.

«Hello!» I said.

«Can we move in now?» Lizzie asked him.

«Yes, just sign here.»

After all the paperwork, we finally went into our apartment. It was yellow and orange. Ugh. These are the most depressing colors in the universe, it seems to me. I liked minimalism. Well, Lizzie didn’t seem to care. She almost always didn’t care about anything – she only saw the good parts. To be honest, it annoyed me at some points. Of the two of us, I was the only one on the negative side.

«So, I’m going to go to the store, and can you put things away?» she asked.

«Yeah, no problem,» I responded.

«I’ll buy you some vegetables and a pizza for me,» she said, as she put on her left sneaker.

I locked the door behind her and turned on the music. And then the world brightened. It always did, once the music blasted from the speakers. It was as if a second breath had awakened in me. Or my other self. More self-confident. I would call her Aurora. Confident, rugged, aware of her goals. Me, but a different me.

Sofi Tukker’s «Best Friend» played on my headphones. I picked up a rag and started dusting. My mom says I have OCD. I just think cleanliness is the basis of life. It can’t be too clean.

After almost an hour the whole apartment was scrubbed and things were laid out; I couldn’t figure out where the hell Lizzie was. As far as I could remember, there were stores near the house. Where could she have gone? She hadn’t been kidnapped, had she? Calm down, Lindsay.

«I’m home!» I heard.

Oh, thank God.

«Where have you been for so long?» I asked her, looking through the bags as I went.

«Oh, honey,» she smiled, «make yourself comfortable. I’ve just met such a boy!»

«Lizzie…» I rolled my eyes.

«Tall, handsome, suave. And his dog is so adorable. Guess what he called him,» enthusiastically told the sister, pulling out of the bag of products.

«So how?» I asked without enthusiasm. Lizzie met guys all the time and flirted with every other one.

«Testosterone!»

«Whoa, also creative,» I sarcastically stretched out.

«Don’t you dare!» she threatened me with a cucumber. «I don’t even want to hear your shit about no love and stuff like that.»

«I’m silent,» I held up two hands.

«Look, I even took a picture with him,» she started rummaging through her phone.

«So fast?» I was surprised.

«What’s the delay? I am beautiful. That’s enough.»

She showed me a picture of her smiling her gorgeous smile. Next to her was a guy. Sky-blue eyes, brown hair, neat nose.

«What do you think?» she asked.

«Well,» I said. «Not my type.»

«Of course,» she rolled her eyes, «it’s not Henry Cavill.»

I threw a tomato at her.

«Don’t touch that god,» I threatened her. «I’ll get popular and marry him.»

«He’s seventeen years older than you.»

«Then I’ll be a rich widow, too,» I retorted.