This is it.

Though the weather was cool and autumn was almost near, Morgan was sweating underneath her uniform. Her tie was too tight and her wig too scratchy. Her hands seemed ultra feminine; slender, small, and smooth. She cleared her throat—several times—and realized that she needed water, even though she had a profound desire to pee.

In fact, she wanted to leave, and ditch the charade all together.

As Morgan walked alone on the black pavement, her heart beat with every step. Her knees trembled, crumbling under fear and anxiety. In her head, she played out the different scenarios that might happen, working her way through a mental list of steps of what to do, a ritual she had took to the days before the deception...if it even worked. A light build of 120 lbs, 5"5', and all but horned rimmed glasses, a wig, and Ace bandages wrapped around a sports bra, Morgan was supposed to be Chandler Achinchloss, 165 lbs and 5"10'.

To say she was fucked would be an understatement.

Fifteen, fourteen, eleven, six...one more step until the she reached the front door. As Morgan held her sweaty hand out to the handle, her body trembled, jolting with the split-second decision of what to do next: turn around or move forward? She could go home and return to her unassuming life; home schooled, familiar, and out of trouble. Or, she could pose as her male cousin in an all boys boarding school for four months and face the terrible anxiousness that each day her secret could be discovered and face a heavy persecution that could potentially ruin her chances at college.

Morgan sucked in her breath, and slowly exhaled out, her resolution slowly resolving along with it. She clenched her teeth and set her jaw, squared her shoulders and stood up straight. As her heart beat a war drum in her chest, she turned the handle.

It was late August when she got the call. Morgan was surprised to see her cousin's name flash on her phone, having assumed that he was still on vacation in Europe.

She picked up the phone. "Hey."

"Hey. What's up?"

Morgan shrugged her shoulders and looked at her lap, where her laptop was most likely branding her bare legs with its heat. "Definitely not Europe. I thought you were terrorizing the French?"

Chandler laughed. "I was, but now I'm in Spain...," he trailed off.

"Oh my god, you're in Ibiza aren't you?"

Morgan rolled her eyes as he replied bashfully, "Um, yeah..." So typical of him. From a family of wealth, it would have been nice if Chandler was the kind of rich preppy that was sensitive and prudent about spending money aimlessly. Unfortunately, though, Chandler was just the opposite—he was wild and flush with cash.

She groaned, "Spare me from the details."

"Hey," he began defensively, "I'm only here for a week; I'm a responsible drinker; I use—actually you don't need to know that." Morgan shook her head, definitely blaming her uncle for the genes. "Point is, I know what I'm doing. For example," he began with a flourish, "if you have painful urination, then

you might have gonorrhea."

"I won't, since I'm not you," Morgan replied flatly.

Normally, Chandler would call Morgan a "buzz kill", but instead, he brushed it off. "Anyways, I'm not going be partying all the time—there's so much more than that...everywhere... People just don't appreciate it since they're holding onto one small thing, when there's a much larger picture. I'm not like that."

She was stunned into silence...and impressed. Where did this side of Chandler come from? All she

could muster was a, "Yeah..."

Chandler sighed. "There's so much to see, so many different lives to live and appreciate. Like, how can you say you went to Greece but all you did was look at the monuments and visit vineyards? There's culture, too, and...that's what traveling is. And everyone wants to do that, they know that's what traveling is, but they can't. Because they have school or work, and only a little time..."

He paused, and Morgan felt obliged to respond, even though she really didn't have much to say—he did that for her. "Yeah, totally...like looking at the surface of a lake, and then delving right into it."

"Yeah! You get me, right?"

"Yeah."

A pause. And then Chandler asked her, "Okay, so...don't judge me—"

"Oh, I'm going to judge," Morgan joked.

"No, I mean, really...Just, don't." He waited for her to respond, and when she did, he continued. "So, you and I both agree that traveling is way more than the touristy stuff. That's it's actually living the culture, and getting familiar with it's customs. You know—living it. But everyone's problem is that max they have two months every year. And even then, there's no escaping tourists."

Morgan knit her eyebrows together, not following where he was going. "Okay..."

Chandler sighed again. "You know carpe diem—seize the day? Well...I'm going to seize the day," and hesitating, "for two more months."

Not following, Morgan stayed silent, puzzled as to what her cousin was talking about. Seize the day, for two more months? How does this relate to traveling? "Um...I don't get it. What do you mean?"

"Morgan, I'm going to travel the world...for four more months."

A light switched on inside her head, and suddenly everything made sense. "You can't do that," she blurted out, "you have school!"

"You said you won't judge me," Chandler reproached.

"I—I'm not," said Morgan, slowing herself down. "Just give me a minute." She massaged the temple of her forehead, clearing her mind of any condescending, disapproving, and insult-bearing thoughts—which was impossible. What's the dumb ass thinking? She knew Chandler was reckless, and oft than not to skip class or party too much. But traveling the world for four months and consequently ditching the fall semester? That's pure abandon...and straight up stupid. Why, why, why, why, she wanted to ask him. Thinking back to what he had said earlier, about experiencing a culture and seizing the day...she admitted that it made sense. But to not go to school, especially his first year as a transfer at Dalton Academy?

Wearily, she asked, "Are your parents okay with this?"

Hesitantly, he replied, "They actually don't know," and before Morgan could interrupt and reprimand him, rushed, "But that's where you come in."

The corners of Morgan's lips tugged downward, exasperated at Chandler. So he was going to travel the world for four months, not go to school, and all without his parents knowledge? Brilliant. She sighed, either more in frustration or disbelief, or a mixture of both, she couldn't tell.

Taking his cue, Chandler continued. "You're my cousin, okay? We're family, we do things for each other. If you need me to drive you across the country to California, I'll do it. If you pee yourself in the store because you drank too much coffee, and there's a puddle of pee on the floor, I'll say it was me," he insisted earnestly. "I won't even flinch, I'll tell everyone that it was me who peed himself, you won't even have to do anything." Morgan slapped her face into her palm, groaning. "And I know you'd do the same for me," he went on, "you'd help me out whenever you can. You're like Robin to my Batman, and I'm Robin to your Batman. We're like Alfred, too, to each other, we're always there for each other."

Morgan interrupted his rambling, "Just tell me where I come in and what the hell is going on."

"Yeah, okay," he sputtered, and cleared his throat. "So...I'm going to D—...Da...," he paused, and continued anyways, "I'm going to boarding school this year, in your town. Miles away from my family, like, two states away." Morgan rolled her eyes, surprised he got it right. "And you are going to be home schooled this year. You'll just be home, all the time. And your parents—your parents are going to be away for two months. Okay, and get this: you and I, we look exactly alike!"

So? "Thank you for stating the obvious," she added sarcastically. Ever since Morgan was born seven months after Chandler, she had never heard the end of, "Oh, look! Chandler, Morgan, stand together, that's it. See? They look just alike, like twins!" It was a bit of an exaggeration, but it was a family pride thing she guessed, a quirk about themselves. When they were little, they actually did look like twins, however. The same dark brown eyes, thin lips, button noses, black hair, ears. But as they grew older, features changed, now more alike than identical.

Chandler ignored her remark, "Anyways, think about it. I'm going to a school where no one's seen me before, you're going to be home alone, our families are going to be miles apart, and we look a like." He paused expectantly, after which he chimed, "You're going to pretend to be me!"

"What?" Morgan shook her head, as if water was in her ears and she had misheard incorrectly.

"You're going to be me," he repeated, "you're going to go to school and be," with a flourish, "Chandler Achinchloss."

Morgan widened her eyes, incredulous, "What?"

"You're going to—"

"Shut up! I know what you said but I just can't believe it. You expect me to impersonate you?" She struggled for words, unable to fathom what Chandler was even thinking. "That is so—what are you thinking? No! Is this a joke? What the—I just...," Morgan grunted, unable to find words enough to express herself. PURE abandon, she reminded herself. He never thought things through, and when he "did", it was stupid like this one. The idea was so contrived, so unbelievable and far-fetched that it belonged in a movie with Amanda Bynes. But this wasn't a movie, and she wasn't Amanda Bynes.

She was Morgan and she wanted to get into an Ivy League.

"Come on, just hear me out," Chandler begged, "you have to help me. I'm going to be in so much trouble—"

"Then don't do it," Morgan hissed.

"It's too late! I already paid for the tickets."

"That's a really, really lame excuse, Chandler."

He sighed, exhausted. "Look...I don't want to be one of those people who keep saying they'll travel the world, but never end up doing it. I know there's years ahead of me but, why not now?"

"Because you're a teenager in high school. SCHOOL. Does that mean nothing to you," Morgan asked, miffed.

"Are you going to help me or not?"

"No."

It was a long pause before Chandler finally spoke again, his voice weary, pleading, and soft, "You know what's happening with my parents, right?"

Morgan froze, caught unawares. Of course she knew...but Chandler didn't talk about it, at all. His parents' divorce was still up in the air, but everyone knew that one more push, one more nudge, and the divorce papers would be signed.

"Yeah," she replied back.

"If they find out that I haven't been going to school, or that I'm in Europe...they'll get a—it'll make matters worse," he said.

Morgan sighed. "I know...but I'm going to be blunt with you. Why are you taking the risk? Why are you making matters worse?"

Silence on the other end.

"When's the first day of school?

Hi, everyone! For those of you who have been following me for "Hate is an Understatement", I apologize for not updating! I'm not sure if I will continue the story, but haven't eliminated it from possibility. I just didn't like where the plot/characters were going. I may make another story (loosely) similar to it, so fingers crossed.

Please remember to review, whether good or bad! The plot in this was a bit rushed in my opinion, but at least we got the "why does she go" out of the way.

Thank you!