I didn’t think I’d get even a wink of sleep the night before school starts, all of my obsessing must have taken more out of me than I’d realized. I wake up to the screeching noise Rhiannon has set as her alarm; It’s supposed to be some sort of post-alternative-something-or-other music. It’s awful.

Everything is awful.

I don’t want to be awake.

Ugh.

I open my eyes to see my sister already flitting around the room. She offers me a half-apologetic shrug when I sit up a few minutes later. She’s well aware of how I feel about her need to wake up this early. Every. Single. Day.

Once she turns off the shrieking alarm, my brain gradually begins to function again. I glance down at my phone. I could sleep for another half hour, and still manage to wake up with more than enough time to eat and get ready. But this is our first day at Fairview High, and now that I’m up, I’m wide-awake.

Rhiannon already has a cup of black tea sitting on her dresser, the biggest kick of caffeine Mom will let her drink. I keep trying to tell her, sleeping in past six thirty is another way to gain some extra energy, but she never listens. No, she has too much to do and too little time to do it. Or something. Even when we don’t have school, she can’t possibly have any extracurriculars, and she doesn’t know anyone besides our family in the entire state, Rhiannon always finds a way to stay busy.

Me? I’m a night person through and through. If my parents would let me, I could stay up until four every night playing City of Ages, reading, and talking to my friends online. Except then I’d sleep until noon every day. It’s a trade I’m more than willing to make.

"Get up, get up, get up!" Enthusiastic fists bang against our door from the bathroom, connecting our room with the one Reece and Reilly share.

I groan in response and throw my pillow at the door. How is everyone functioning this early?

"We’re up! We’re up!" I answer when the banging refuses to stop.

Rhiannon walks over and opens the door, sending Reilly flying into our room.

"You’re awake!" she announces, as though this is somehow news. "I’ve thought of something." She’s already poking her head around in Rhiannon’s closest. "What are you wearing today?"

I do a double take, considering that maybe I mislabeled whom I’m talking to. Usually Reece is the one who acts as the fashion police for the rest of us.

No, that’s definitely Reilly. I can tell by the waves she’s worked into her hair and the softer tone of her voice. Anyone who really knows us rarely has trouble telling us apart. Genetically, we might be the same, but we all have quirks and tells that mark us as individuals.

"No idea," I say, even though I have three outfit options sitting in my top drawer, ready to go. I just don’t want my options picked over this early in the morning. "Why?" Suspicion clear in my voice, an inevitable side effect of pre-dawn fashion dilemmas.

"Not you, Reagan," Reilly says, not unkindly. "Rhiannon. I figure you’ll be wearing your usual?”

“Pretty much the same thing you always wear," Rhiannon adds.

I stick out my tongue.

The two of them start talking, holding up various pieces of clothing for inspection to each other. I get out of bed—a decision I immediately regret as the floor is cold. Everything is cold.

In my dresser, all three outfits are exactly where I left them. Giving them another look over, I have to admit that they’re all basically different versions of the same jeans-and-T-shirt combo which I wear most of the time. Still, I was going to put in at least a little effort for the first day of school. Maybe I’ll throw on earrings or something.

Our new school isn’t exactly huge, so odds are this is going to be my first impression with pretty much everyone I’ll meet this year—an idea that equally excites and terrifies me. And maybe a second chance to make an impression on the one guy there I have been introduced to already. I hadn’t seen Kent again in time since we’d moved in, but he’s still ranking number one on my list of things to like about Fairview. I pop in a set of silver, star-shaped earrings. Why not?

"Ray!" Reece says. "Are you even listening?"

I’m clearly not. I didn’t even see her come in the room. "No. Sorry. What’s going on?"

"Well, I was thinking about it, and I talked to Reece."

"Yes…" I motion for her to speed things up. I don’t have the patience for this stuff, especially before seven a.m..

"We need to squash this whole identical thing right off the bat. This town is way too into it already. We can’t be too matchy or anything, and the first day is going to be the most important day to start doing that." She’s wearing skinny jeans and a tight, forest-green tank top with a more generous V cut into the front than I would ever be brave enough to try. Not exactly what I had been planning to wear.

"We need to make a statement," Reilly continues for her, proving that the two of them have obviously discussed this before. "We need to dress like four different people and not the Fairview Four that everyone remembers from a million years ago."

"We’re not even in that many classes together," I argue for the sake of arguing, still wondering why this is even a discussion. Being dressed similarly would have taken a major coincidence for any of us. And if anyone we meet today actually wants to learn to tell us apart, all they have to do is pay attention. To the way Reece is always moving in some way or another, or how Reilly is nice to absolutely everyone.

But it’s the first day, and we’ve already obsessed over every other detail. I guess this is the only thing left.

"Yeah, but other people will have classes with more than one of us. We don’t want to be mistaken for one another," Reece counters. "Then no one will ever learn to tell us apart."

"I think they will probably notice that we all look the same." I peek over to Rhiannon for support, but she’s too busy tying her hair back into intricate braids to chime into the conversation.

It’s bugging me that they’ve put real effort into not looking the same. Yeah, I want people to be able to tell us apart, but looking alike is part of our identity as well. It’s not like we’d ever really be able to hide it.

"Obviously." Reece says, "But we don’t need to add to the sideshow."

"Which brings me back to my original question," Reilly says. "What are you guys wearing?"

We all end up dressing pretty much like we always do. It’s been a long time since our parents have been able to force us into matching outfits. All of our styles have developed in protest of the years we had to spend in identical pink outfits. Though, if anything, my style is a lack of style.

If she can help it, Reece tends to wear what everyone else at school is wearing. Rhiannon practically picks a new fashion sense to play around with every month—for starting the new year, she mostly just looks badass with dark jeans, a halter top, and a fair bit of makeup. Reilly is the only one of us with a specific style. She likes light fabrics, loose-fitting clothes, and way too much floral print. I tend to go for jeans and T-shirts with random nerd references on them.

Too soon after, our outfits sorted and breakfast eaten, we head off to the Lion’ s Den.

* * *

Fairview High is about half the size of our old school, Ashmore, where we went freshman year. We step out of Mom’s car and onto a long stretch of grass in front of the school. And it hits me—this is it. The move happened so quickly, but the wait to get to this very moment has taken forever. We’ve spent the last week living in a bubble, unpacking our things and going through many overly friendly neighborhood introductions. High school is a different game entirely.

From the looks of it, all my sisters are genuinely excited in spite of everything. Even Rhiannon seems ready for this. In the last week, she’s been better than she was back in Virginia before we moved. A little less miserable, a little easier to be around, a bit more like old herself. She grunts a “thank you" to our mom before she pulls away, keen to start to her first day as Fairview’s resident M.D. Even she can’t hold a grudge forever. Besides, Mom seems genuinely happy to be back, which is always a plus.

Mom’s new job is the reason we had to move back to Fairview in the first place. Like she keeps telling us, this town is a little… eccentric, and things don’t always go the way you’d expect. There are a couple of smaller practices for family doctors scattered around the area, but the Fairview town council also employs an official town doctor. Even the house we live in—one my parents couldn’t afford on their own—is a perk of getting that job. The house, the job, all of it has been around since the town was founded along with a few other bizarre traditions I thankfully have never had to participate in.

"Ready?" Reece asks.

People are already staring at the four of us standing outside in a row, not doing anything. If we’re trying to keep a low profile, this might not be the best start.

No, nope, and no way are the only thoughts that cross through my mind at her question. I’m nowhere near ready, but I refuse to say that out loud. Instead, I work to convince myself that this isn’t a big deal. It’s school. I’ve done it a million times before. But no matter how many times I tell myself that I’m excited about this and things will be different here, when push comes to shove, I’m the same old Reagan I’ve always been.

If I let myself think about anything else—the people, the expectations, all the non-stop staring—I’ll never move from this spot. Mom will come back at the same time tomorrow and find me right here. That’s not going to happen.

Someone squeezes my hand. I glance beside me to see Reilly offering me a small smile as though she can tell exactly what I’m going through. That’s kind of her talent—she knows what you’re feeling without having to say anything, and she knows what to do to make it better.

"As ready as I’ll ever be," I finally answer. "Let’s do this."

* * *

I managed to swing my schedule so I am in a class with each of my sisters, something no one else managed to pull off—probably because they all picked their classes based on what they genuinely wanted to take and not based not wanting to be alone in a classroom full of strangers. Unfortunately, I only have three sisters and Fairview High has a five-period schedule. So I’m stuck with biology and lunch by myself.

Surprisingly, when lunch rolls around and Reece waves goodbye before heading to gym class, I’m not that worried. Lunch I can do.

At Ashmore, lunch involved brown-bagging my food and eating it as quickly as possible before meeting my best friend Nadine in the library. We would spend forty minutes reading or hanging out online whenever there was a computer free. My habits don’t have to change now just because there’s a whole new group of students to avoid.

The cafeteria is easy to find. I already saw it twice when navigating between my morning classes. This school really isn’t that hard to figure out. There are a few hallways branching off in different directions from the main hub where the gyms, cafeteria, and administration offices are. The east side of the building, where most of the English, math, and science classes are, has a second floor, but everything else is all on the ground level.

I pull my lunch out of my bag, dropping the rest of my things onto the first free expanse of table I find. As soon as my butt hits the chair, I catch myself doing the same thing I did in history and then again in geography—looking for that telltale streak of green hair. But I’m one of the first handful of students to reach the cafeteria for third-period lunch and can tell right away that Kent isn’t one of the many students already filling the space around me.

The cafeteria gets crowded quickly, countless backpacks and endless chatter, and soon enough, there are people heading right for me.

"Hi!" a voice chirps from directly beside me. "Which one are you?"

I turn to face a black girl wearing an impossible amount of jewelry and sitting way too close to me.

"Uh, hi. Reagan. I’m Reagan."

"Reagan!" another voice chimes in, this one belonging to a lanky guy in the process of planting himself down on the other side of what is supposed to be my corner of solitude. "The oldest one, right?"

I stare back helplessly, my mouth hanging open a little. Another person joins us at the table, but I don’t even bother looking over.

"Sorry!" the guy says. "I’m Tom. Welcome to Fairview."

I shake my head slightly, trying to force my brain to work again, trying to fight all of my instincts that are currently telling me to grab my stuff and run out of the room as quickly as possible. Which only seems like a plausible option until I realize that I would never live it down. Fleeing from the cafeteria isn’t a great way to make friends.

"I’m Reagan," I say, blushing immediately. Of course I’m Reagan. That’s literally the only thing I’ve said so far. Now I’m supposed to come up with something new. "Sorry. Today has been a little crazy. Hey."

"So was I right? Are you the oldest? Tell me I’m right." Tom asks, grinning.

"You’re right," I agree. This isn’t the first time I’ve been quizzed about birth order. But I am the oldest, and that gives me something they seem remotely interested in talking about, so I just go with it. "Then Reece, then Reilly, and then Rhiannon."

"Told ya!" Tom cries out, pumping his fist in the air. "My mom is obsessed with the Fairview Four. She’s been talking about you guys since she learned you were moving back."

"Well, she should try watching soap operas or something," I say without thinking. “They’re way more interesting.”

Damn it. Insulting people—or their mothers—probably isn’t the best plan. I was better off keeping my mouth shut, instead of opening my mouth like an idiot.

Thankfully, Tom laughs instead of getting insulted on his mom’s behalf. "Ha! Yeah, I know it’s kind of weird. But she loves all of those shows about weird families and stuff, so she always loved that you guys were from here."

“You’re calling my family weird?” I ask, enjoying the joking nature of the conversation. And maybe the attention.

"No way," the girl beside me says. "It’s cool. Four identical sisters? That’s gotta be really rare. They’re special." She’s staring at me. Why is she staring at me?

"Thanks?" I say, attempting a shaky smile.

"So, like, can you guys tell each other apart?" she asks.

I don’t even know what this girl’s name is. I should probably find this whole thing annoying, yet I somehow don’t. I will need to meet people in this school eventually, and I might as well do it here and now before everyone here realizes we’re really not that interesting. These three, random people who I didn’t know existed five minutes ago are watching me like I have got something interesting to say. I try to be as worthwhile as they seem to think I am.

"Of course!" I say with forced enthusiasm. "Pretty much anyone who has known us for a long time can tell us apart. The only people we’re related to who can’t are my dad’s parents, but they live in Ireland, so we almost never see them. None of our friends had any trouble with it…" I say, which isn’t exactly true. Even our parents make stupid mistakes sometimes, but that seems too complicated to get into right now and would end up with a lot of me pausing for way too long as I figure out how to explain.

The Q and A goes on for the rest of our lunch period, and by the time the warning bell rings, I haven’t even touched my sandwich. I eat half of it in two bites.

"Crap.” I swallow down the last bite of my food and look up at the clock before starting to shove my leftovers back in my bag. "I still don’t know where my next class is."

"What do you have next?" Someone asks, briefly distracting me from the building panic in my chest.

"Bio with Mr. Floren. In room…" Where did I put my schedule? "341A. What does that even mean?"

"Don’t worry about it," the guy sitting closest to me, Erik, says. He seems nice enough, nodding along to the whole Donovan family intro for the last hour and ten minutes like he actually thought it was anything other than dull. "I’m in that class too and can walk you there."

Grateful to him I exhale, relieved. I haven’t exactly been looking forward to going by myself. Now, I have a kinda-sorta friend to go with.

By the time the four of us get up and split off in different directions, I’m feeling almost like I’m right back at Ashmore, surrounded by people I’ve known for almost my whole life. If I managed to start making friends after only half a day, I can do this.

I can totally do this.

Erik slips seamlessly into the crowd of students rushing between classes, I try to follow as close to him as I can without literally holding on to his body, but somehow, every move I make seems to go against the flow of traffic. I get shoulder-bumped by someone in front of me, and my heel gets stepped on by someone behind me. Twice. The second time, I almost lose track of my guide.

Right. Left. Left. I do my best to keep track of the route between the cafeteria and our destination, barely.

"Reagan!" a voice calls from directly beside me. I keep moving but whip my head around, turning to figure out who it is I’ve met that can already tell me apart from my sisters. "Hey!"

I lock eyes with Kent, who has his hand raised in a wave. He’s already a few feet behind me, but the crowd won’t let me stop. I start to smile, something I usually have to remind myself to do—note to self: look friendly—but someone bumps me from behind, propelling me forward. I have to turn around to keep myself from tumbling to the ground. By the time I glance back, he’s gone. And now he probably thinks I’m a complete bitch.

But I don’t have time to think about that now—though I’m sure I’ll obsess endlessly about it later. Erik has stopped next to a puke-green door, our biology class. One more class without one of my sisters, and then the hardest part of the day is done. Probably even the hardest part of the semester since at least I won’t be doing any of this for the first time ever again.

Here goes nothing.