Page 10 of The Accidental Beauty Queen
Ginny and I exchange a glance. It doesn’t take any special twin magic for her to read my mind. MyI told you sois coming through loud and clear.
“What do you mean by ‘next time’? Is this going to happen to me again?” Ginny wraps the blanket tighter around her trembling frame.
The doctor lowers himself onto a rolling stool and crosses his arms. “You’re experiencing an acute allergic reaction to something. Unless you can identify what it was, then yes, this could happen again. The culprit was probably something you ate.”
“But we’re not allergic to anything.” Ginny searches my gaze. “Right?”
The doctor turns toward me. “You’re sisters?”
I nod. “Twins, actually. Identical.”
“Wow, I didn’t realize.” He smiles.
We should be accustomed to this reaction. After all, Ginny and I haven’t been mistaken for each other in years. It would require Rapunzelesque hair extensions and two hours in a makeup chair for me to look like my sister these days.
This time is different, though. And we both know it.
My heart breaks a little bit, and I can barely look at her, sitting there with tears streaming down her swollen face. I’m used to being the less attractive sister, the invisible one.
Ginny isn’t.
“Allergies have a strong genetic component, but they can be tricky. While it’s common for twins to be allergic to the same foods, it’s not always the case. Did you two share food last night?”
“Yes,” we say in unison.
“Then it looks like you drew the short straw, Ginny.” He shrugs.
I feel guilty, which I know is absurd. But Ginny is the golden child. The beautiful one. The fact that I’m not the twin who’s hooked up to an IV and swollen beyond recognition seems wrong on every level.
I clear my throat. “The swelling is only temporary. She’ll be back to normal really soon, right?”
“Absolutely.” The doctor nods and pulls a prescription pad from the pocket of his scrubs.
“Thank goodness.” Ginny’s shoulders sag in relief.
“We’ve given you a good amount of diphenhydramine in your IV drip. You need to stay here for a couple more hours, so you can get some rest and let it do its thing. But you’re going to need to continue taking it in liquid form. I also recommend a course of oral steroids. And you should get allergy tested as soon as possible.”
Ginny nods. “Sure. Anything, so long as it works. I need to be onstage by the day after tomorrow. That’s possible, isn’t it?”
She looks back and forth between me and the doctor. I can’t believe she’s still going on about the pageant at a time like this. The minute she’s stabilized, I’m calling our dad. Maybe he can talk some sense into her.
The doctor’s brow furrows. “Onstage?”
“She’s a contestant in a beauty pageant.” I roll my eyes to indicate my feelings on the subject.
Ginny corrects me instantaneously. “Miss American Treasure. It’s ascholarship competition.”
I roll my eyes even harder. Who is she kidding?
“I see.” The doctor nods. “That’s... great.”
His smile fades, and I know what’s coming. “There’s no reason you can’t be onstage by then, so long as you feel well,” he says.
“Perfect.” Her puffy lips curve into a smile.
“However...”And here it comes. “The swelling will likely take a while to go away.”
“A while?” Ginny sits up, panicked. The nurse pats her back and tries, unsuccessfully, to get her to lie back down. They might need to put a little something extra in that IV—a tranquilizer, maybe. “How long?”
