Twin Protection Protocol 2/15 (Patreon)

The morning sunlight felt different on smooth, shaved legs.

I stood on the stone steps outside the safehouse, the cool air brushing against the black tights they’d insisted I wear. The outfit was cute in that effortless, preppy way Emma had picked out for our “first day” — a brown plaid blazer over a matching mini skirt, a soft brown sweater vest layered over a crisp white collared shirt, and these tall brown leather boots that clicked every time I shifted my weight. The skirt wasn’t scandalously short, but it was short enough that I kept catching myself tugging it down. The tights felt strange and intimate, like a second skin I wasn’t used to.

Emma stood beside me, grinning like this was the best adventure of her life. She reached over and laced her fingers through mine.

“Ready, sis?” I swallowed. My voice came out softer, higher, the way we’d practised. “As I’ll ever be.”

She squeezed my hand. “We’ve got this. Just two normal twin sisters starting at a new school. Nothing weird about that at all.” Nothing weird. Right.

The walk to school was only ten minutes, but every step felt like a performance. The boots made my stride different — longer, more deliberate. The blazer sat perfectly on my shoulders, but I could feel the padded bra underneath every time the fabric shifted. The mini skirt swayed against my thighs with each movement, and the tights whispered softly with every step. I kept my free hand in the blazer pocket like the pose we’d practised in the mirror, trying to look casual instead of terrified.

When we reached the school gates, the noise hit me first — hundreds of teenagers laughing, shouting, slamming lockers. Heads turned as we walked in together, still holding hands. I heard the whispers almost immediately.

“Those are the new twins…” “They look exactly the same.” “Which one’s which?”

Emma just smiled and waved at a couple of girls who called out to her like she’d already made friends yesterday. She was a natural at this. I was just trying not to trip in the boots.

First period was English. We sat together near the back. The teacher, Mrs. Hargrove, had that sharp but kind energy as she scanned the room.

“Ella Thompson?” My stomach dropped. I froze for half a second too long. Emma kicked my ankle gently under the desk.

I raised my hand, voice steady even though my heart was hammering. “Here.”

Mrs. Hargrove smiled. “Welcome to the class, Ella. I hope you and your sister settle in quickly.” Emma leaned over and whispered, “See? Easy.”

It wasn’t easy. Every time I opened my mouth I had to remember the pitch, the softness, the way girls my “age” talked. Every time I crossed my legs the skirt rode up a little and I had to casually smooth it down. The tights made my legs feel exposed and protected at the same time.

At break we found a quiet spot near the lockers. A boy with messy dark hair and an easy smile wandered over, hands in his pockets.

“Hey… you two are the new twins, right? I’m Jake. “You look exactly alike. It’s kinda wild.”

Emma beamed. “That’s us! I’m Emma, this is Ella.”

Jake’s eyes flicked between us, then landed on me for a second longer. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost shy for a moment. “Cool. If you need anyone to show you around or whatever… just say the word.” “Thanks,” I said, keeping the voice light. “We’re good for now.”

He smiled again — a genuine, slightly lopsided smile — and walked off. I felt my cheeks warm. Emma nudged me with her shoulder. “He was totally checking you out.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, but there was no heat in it. The attention felt… strange. Not threatening like the men we were hiding from. Just normal teenage boy attention. And for a ridiculous reason, that made my stomach flutter in a way I didn’t want to examine too closely.

Lunch was loud and chaotic. We sat with a small group of girls Emma had already befriended. I mostly listened, smiling when I was supposed to, nibbling on the sandwich Sarah had packed for us that morning. Every so often I’d catch someone staring at our matching outfits or the way we sat so close together.

After lunch we had PE. The changing rooms were the part I’d been dreading most.

Emma stayed right beside me the whole time, chatting loudly about nothing while I changed into the school PE kit they’d provided — shorts and a polo that felt way too revealing after the blazer and tights. I kept my eyes down, moving quickly, trying not to think about how smooth my legs were or how the padded bra sat differently now that I wasn’t wearing layers. Emma cracked jokes the whole time, covering any awkward pauses like a pro. By the time the final bell rang, my face hurt from smiling and my brain felt like it had run a marathon.

We walked home the same way we’d come — hand in hand. The afternoon sun was warmer now, and the boots were starting to feel heavier. But something had shifted.

For the first time since this whole nightmare started, no one was looking for David Thompson. They were looking at Ella and Emma — two normal sisters in matching preppy outfits, holding hands, giggling about boys and teachers and which snack was better from the vending machine.

The relief was dangerous. Addictive, almost.

I glanced down at our joined hands, then at the way the plaid skirt moved with every step. The tights still felt new against my skin. The blazer was warm in the afternoon sun. For a few hours today, the constant knot of fear in my chest had loosened just a little.

Emma squeezed my hand again as we turned onto our street. “You did amazing today,” she said quietly, so only I could hear. “Like… actually amazing. I’m really proud of you, Ella.”

I looked at her — my daughter, who was now my twin sister — and felt something tight in my throat.“Thanks, Em.”

She grinned. “Tomorrow we’re doing the full twin thing again. Same outfits, same everything. It’ll be fun.” Fun. I didn’t correct her.

As we reached the safehouse steps, I caught my reflection in the front window — long hair slightly windblown, blazer slightly rumpled, mini skirt and tights and boots making me look like any other cute high school girl coming home from a normal day. For just a second, the performance felt almost… easy.

And that scared me more than anything else had all day.