Almost Identical #1 by Lin Oliver Page A

town of Santa Monica where the school was. Without our dad hustling us along, our pace had slowed down a bit.
    â€œI’m telling you, Charlie,” I answered, huffing and puffing, “you may think those kids are going to be your new, best friends, but they aren’t like us. They’re rich.”
    â€œHow do you know? Just because their parents belong to a beach club?”
    â€œA beach club where our dad
works
. Where we live in the
caretaker’s bungalow
. Our family isn’t a Sporty Forty. The Diamonds
work
for the Sporty Forties. We are not SF2 material.”
    â€œThat is so paranoid, Sammie. To think that we can’t be friends with those kids just because of that. They don’t care what our parents do. Just try to be nice to them. You’ll see. They’ll be nice right back.”
    We had reached the entrance to the school, a big, white stucco building with a red, tile roof. Even though it was a public school, it looked like one of those California missions we had studied in fourth grade. Whoever built it had made it look really nice. Over the wide front door, it said
Beachside Middle School
in mosaic tiles. A flagpole stood on the front lawn and off to one side were about ten white bungalows that obviously had been added to house extra students. Parents’ cars were lined up at the curb, dropping kids off in the carpool lane.
    The first thing I noticed was how good everyone looked. At our old school, Culver City Middle School, we had to wear uniforms. Nothing horrible, but beige pants or skirts with a white top. The kids at Beachside were not only uniform-free, they looked like they stepped out of a fashion magazine. Even the sixth graders looked trendy. Lots of boys in surfer shorts and cool T-shirts. Lots of girls in sundresses or expensive jeans. I was in my regular jeans and a white top. When I was getting dressed, I decided to pick something that would blend in, but as I looked at the other girls, I wished I had worn a cute sundress like Charlie had.
    We saw the General climbing out of a black Lexus and slinging his camouflage backpack over his shoulder. He looked over at us, and I thought about saluting, but decided against it. Charlie waved at him, and to my amazement, he smiled and waved back.
    â€œSee?” she said. “Just be friendly and the rest will happen naturally.”
    â€œOkay,” I agreed. “That’s fair. From this moment on, I will be nothing but nice, sweet, smiley Sammie.”
    â€œGood,” she answered. “You look much better when you smile. Except for now, because you have a huge chunk of oatmeal in your teeth.”
    â€œReally?” I reached for my mouth to wipe the offensive chunk away, but nothing was there. Charlie just laughed.
    â€œVery funny. Since when did you turn into Ryan?”
    â€œI’m the dude,” Charlie said, imitating Ryan. “I’m so
punny
!”
    Charlie and I both cracked up as we walked into the building and followed signs to the registration office. It felt good not to be angry at each other anymore. The Pizza Bonding had worked, just like it always had.
    Inside the registration office was a counter with a tall, gray-haired woman standing behind it. There was a sign in front of her that said
I Can Only Please One Person a Day . . . and This Isn’t Your Day
.
    â€œWe’re here to pick up our schedules,” Charlie said, getting right down to business. The woman didn’t seem like someone you wanted to mess around with.
    â€œWe’re Samantha and Charlotte Diamond,” I added quickly.
    â€œSo you’re twins?” the woman asked, rifling through a wooden box filled with printed, paper schedules. “Which one’s older?”
    Charlie and I glanced at each other and rolled our eyes. We have been asked that question a thousand million times. When people find out you’re twins, it’s the first thing they ask. Then they ask if you have