The Peanut Replacement

What gives you the right to compare yourself to your sister? my mother scoffed, dumping the entire plate of expensive, imported strawberries into Aubrey's crystal bowl.

My throat constricted.

I stared at the empty plate, my fingers tracing the discarded green stems left behind. In everyone's eyes, Aubrey was the golden princess, and I was just the pathetic rat scurrying in the shadows.

Even Wyatt, the boy I had grown up with, curled his lip in disgust whenever we stood next to each other.

"You two together? It's like looking at a princess and her maid."

Until Eliasa boy carved from flawless, cold marble.

The adults were gathered in the living room. My mother's shrill voice pierced the air, aggressively bragging about Aubrey to anyone who would listen. I shrank into the furthest corner of the couch, my stomach twisting as I stole glances at the plate of cookies on the coffee table.

But that aloof, untouchable boy roughly shoved past my dazzling sister. He wedged himself between us, his broad shoulders forming a solid wall. With terrifying possessiveness, his large hand gripped my waist, yanking me flush against his hard chest. He glared at Aubrey like a starving beast guarding its only meal.

"She's mine," he declared, his voice dropping to a lethal, ice-cold pitch.

Chapter 1

Aubrey had a perfect heart-shaped face, huge doe eyes, and flawless pale skin. Her eyelashes were impossibly long. Like little fans.

Whenever we went out, strangers would stop my mother.

"Is your daughter a child model?"

My mother would press her lips together in a modest smile, her chest puffing out with pride. "Oh, stop it."

Then, Id tug at her sleeve. "Mom."

The stranger would jump, staring down at my runny nose and wind-chapped, thoroughly average face. "This is yours too?"

My mothers smile would instantly vanish, her lips pulling into a tight, flat line. "Yes. The younger one."

The stranger would chuckle awkwardly. "Looks like the older one stole all the good genes in the womb, huh?"

My mother would laugh along. "Well, she always was the overachiever."

Aubrey stole my genes. Just a stupid joke adults threw around. But a kid takes that stuff seriously. For the longest time, I hated Aubrey for it.

Well, maybe not the longest time. Two or three months, tops.

It mostly manifested in me stealing her fruit. Plump, red strawberries. Glossy, expensive cherries. My mother always prepped them perfectly for Aubrey.

Huge, overflowing plates. Leaving me the bruised scraps and stems. Id inhale my meager portion, my mouth still watering, then sneak pieces from her bowl. It only took a few times before I got caught.

Aubrey burst into tears. "Shes stealing my fruit!"

She cried like a little mermaid from a storybook dropping pearl tears. Heartbreaking. Adorable.

I stiffened my neck, glaring right back. "You stole my genes in the womb!"

"I did not!"

"Did too!" I was yelling, my face scrunching up into an ugly, aggressive scowl. Next to Aubrey, I looked like a little goblin. The wicked witch bullying the precious princess.

My mothers face twisted, her lips pulling back into a snarl. She shoved me hard by the shoulders, pushing me out the front door and slamming it shut. The deadbolt clicked. "You little freak!" she screamed through the heavy wood.

"It's bad enough you look like a rat, but your heart is just as rotten!"

I pounded my fists against the door, my knuckles stinging.

Her muffled voice hissed from the other side. "Your sister owes you nothing! If I catch you stealing from her again, you'll be sleeping on the lawn!"

Aubrey didn't steal my genes. So why was she so flawless? Why was I so utterly average? I couldn't figure it out.

Why did our parents treat her like royalty and me like an afterthought? It made zero sense.

So, I asked around. Down at the neighborhood playground. Wyatt and I sat side-by-side on the swings, splitting a cherry Popsicle.

"Do you have an older brother?" I asked.

He slurped the dripping red ice. "Yeah. Why?"

"Does your mom treat him better than you?"

He paused mid-slurp, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Define 'better'."

I scuffed my sneakers in the dirt. "Like always giving him the best cuts of meat at dinner. Buying him the expensive fruit. Enrolling him in all those fancy prep classes"

He thought about it for a second, then shook his head. "Nope."

He took another bite of his Popsicle. "But isn't skipping prep classes a good thing?"

We locked eyes. "Fair point."

My mother had Aubrey enrolled in everything. Piano lessons, etiquette training, debate prep, you name it. Every time she left the house, she was stuffed into some itchy, frilly dress, looking picture-perfect. Her entire schedule was micromanaged down to the minute.

Me? I was basically feral. I could run out and play whenever I wanted. While I was out building dirt forts with the neighborhood kids, Aubrey was stuck in a windowless classroom.

Chapter 2

Prep classes. Pure torture. Thinking about it, Aubrey's life was actually pathetic. The scales in my head instantly balanced out.

"You have a sister?" Wyatt asked.

"Yeah."

He grunted, dropping the subject. We sat there, slurping the last of our melting ice. Armed with my weird new sense of superiority, I stopped throwing tantrums at home. I actually started pitying Aubrey.

I could roam free whenever I wanted. I had a whole crew of neighborhood kids.

One evening, I lost track of time. By the time I noticed, the sun was long gone. The sickly yellow streetlights flickered to life. One by one, exasperated parents marched out to claim their kids.

Some yelled, some fussed, some dragged them away by the collar. But they all came.

Even Wyatt got hauled off by his older brother. The guy looked just like him, only taller and way better-looking.

Wyatt twisted around as he was dragged away. "Go home, Hazel!"

The playground went dead silent.

I was the only one left.

I craned my neck, staring up at our apartment building. The living room window glowed warm and bright against the dark brick. Why didn't they come looking for me?

I kicked a pebble into the dirt. If Aubrey didn't come home Except, that was impossible. Mom shadowed Aubreys every move. Chauffeuring her from one elite class to the next.

I could have just walked upstairs. But a stubborn, bitter knot tightened in my chest. I refused to move. I crouched in the sandbox, dragging a stick through the dirt.

I drew cats. Castles. Crowns. Ribbons.

I covered the entire pit in messy scribbles.

Commuters trudged past, heading home from work. Still, nobody came down for me. The courtyard emptied out. My stomach gave a hollow, aggressive growl.

A sudden gust of wind shook the trees. Leaves hissed. Like ghosts thrashing through the branches. The hair on the back of my neck stood up.

I didn't dare look back.

I bolted.

Lungs burning. Sneakers slapping concrete. I sprinted into the lobby, mashed the elevator button, and exploded out on our floor. I slammed both fists against the front door.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The shadows crawled up my spine. Three Two They were going to grab my ankles My breath hitched in my throat, tears blurring my vision.

The deadbolt snapped back.

Harsh fluorescent light spilled into the hallway, slicing through the dark. The monsters vanished. I was safe.

Mom stood in the doorway. She didn't flinch. She just scoffed, looking down at me like a stray dog.

"Where the hell were you? Get inside." She turned her back. "Leftovers are on the stove."

My adrenaline was still spiking. I was too high on the sheer relief of not being eaten by hallway demons to care about her tone.

"Thanks, Mom," I breathed out, flashing a dopey grin. I kicked off my shoes and practically inhaled the cold food.

Aubrey was lounging in the living room, watching TV. I dumped my empty plate in the sink and crashed on the carpet next to her.

Some cheesy true-crime cartoon. A stolen ruby. Four suspects lined up on screen. The camera zoomed in on a guy with a massive, flat face, beady eyes, and a sleazy, rat-like twitch.

I pointed at the screen. "That's him. Definitely the thief."

Aubrey slowly turned her head. She gave me a long, deadpan look, then turned back to the TV.

I nudged her leg. "Bet you half your allowance on it."

Silence. Playing the untouchable ice queen. I leaned into her space, unblinking, invading her peripheral vision.

She rolled her eyes, letting out an annoyed breath. "Why him?"

"Look at him!" I gestured wildly at the TV. "He literally looks like a criminal!"

"Oh." Aubrey didn't even blink. "I thought he just looked like you."

Chapter 3

My temper flared. I was just about to lunge at her when Mom yelled from the hallway, "Aubrey, piano practice. Now."

Aubreys smug face instantly dropped. She dragged her feet toward the music room, looking like she was headed to the guillotine.

I immediately gloated, leaning back into the couch to watch my show.

"Hazel," Mom snapped, stepping into the room. "Turn that off. Your sister is practicing. Don't distract her."

"Yeah, okay," I muttered. I hit the mute button and kept my eyes glued to the screen anyway.

Stupid network TV. Right when they were about to reveal the real thief, the screen cut to black. To be continued. Another entire week of waiting.

My dark aura was so heavy the next day that even Wyatt noticed.

We were back on the swings, kicking our feet in the dirt.

"Who pissed you off today?" he asked.

I went off, ranting about the network's cliffhanger.

Wyatt nodded solemnly. "I bet it's him, too. He literally looks like a giant rat."

We locked eyes. We high-fived. "Best friends."

"Did your mom scream at you when you got back last night?" he asked.

"Nope," I said.

He looked at me with pure envy. "Your mom is so chill."

I didn't say anything. A weird, uncomfortable knot tightened in my stomach.

Right on cue, Aubrey strolled into the courtyard, fresh out of her extracurriculars. She was wearing a pristine pink tulle skirt, sparkly clips holding her perfect hair in place. Mom was holding her hand, guiding her toward our building in the distance.

I cupped my hands over my mouth. "Mom! Aubrey!"

Mom barely paused. She gave a dismissive wave. "Don't stay out too late," she called back, not even looking my way.

Aubrey threw a single, indifferent glance over her shoulder before following Mom inside.

When I turned back around, Wyatt's Popsicle had hit the dirt.

"What is wrong with you?" I asked.

Wyatt's jaw was practically on the floor. He pointed a trembling finger at Aubrey's retreating back. "That's your sister?"

"Yeah."

He looked at Aubrey. Then at me. Then back at Aubrey. "Were you adopted out of a dumpster?"

Heat rushed to my face. "You're a dead man!"

Wyatt didn't even flinch. "Your sister looks like a literal princess."

Honestly? I thought so too. But there was no way in hell I was giving him the satisfaction of agreeing right now.

When I just glared at him, he kept digging his grave. "You guys don't look like sisters at all."

"What do we look like, then?" I snapped.

He tilted his head, genuinely thinking about it. "Like a princess and her maid."

Some friend.

I shoved him hard by the shoulder. Wyatt toppled backward off the swing, crashing into the sandbox.

"Hey! I'm just stating facts!" he yelled, dusting sand off his jeans.

"Screw you!" I screamed, spinning around and bolting. "We are officially done!"

My throat burned. Hot tears threatened to spill, but I furiously blinked them away.

I stormed into our apartment, marched straight to my room, and ripped every single trading card Wyatt had ever given me into pieces.

Wyatt was dead to me. We were supposed to be best friends. Even though his older brother was way better-looking than him, I never rubbed it in his face! I hurled the torn confetti all over the living room floor.

Mom walked out of the kitchen and froze. "Hazel! What the hell is wrong with you?" she shrieked.

"You're making a massive mess! Why are you always so disgusting?"

I dropped to my knees, aggressively scooping the shreds into the trash can, my voice cracking. "Aubrey spilled her entire bowl of soup on the rug last week! You didn't scream at her!"

"That was an accident," she snapped coldly.

"This was an accident too!" I yelled.

The tears Id been holding back finally spilled over, hot and humiliating.

"Why is everything she does an accident, but everything I do is on purpose?!"

Mom crossed her arms, glaring down at me, her upper lip curling. "Are you talking back to me? Why can't you be more like your sister? She never pulls this psycho behavior."

She sneered at my wet face. "Stop crying. You look pathetic."

"That's because you never scream at her!" I choked out.

Mom let out a dark, mocking laugh. "So now this is my fault?" She took a threatening step toward me, raising her hand.

I scrambled backward, bolted to my room, and slammed the door shut, locking it tight. She didn't follow me.

Chapter 4

A while later. The front door clicked shut. Mom had taken Aubrey out again.

I dug a small compact mirror out of my pocket. A sour, acidic tightness chewed at my insides. Everyone loved Aubrey. Was it just because she was pretty?

I couldn't be that ugly, right?

I flipped the mirror open. My reflection stared backface blotchy, eyes swollen, snot trailing down my lip. I looked like a feral gremlin. I flinched and shoved the mirror away.

The image of Aubrey crying flashed in my mind. She looked like an ethereal fairy shedding morning dew.

It wasn't fair.

A hollow ache settled in my chest. Why did Mom make Aubrey so flawless? The whole world felt rigged against me. My parents favored Aubrey.

And now, even my best friend was mesmerized the second he laid eyes on her.

I decided to go rogue. Absolute zero. Id freeze them all out until they regretted it!

The next morning at school, Wyatt waved at me by the lockers. I stared straight through him, walking past without breaking stride.

He jogged to catch up, waving a hand in front of my face. "Going blind, Hazel?"

"Do not speak to me," I delivered my coldest deadpan. "Our friendship is terminated."

He just flashed an easy grin. "Still mad? My bad. Come on, don't hold a grudge."

He reached into his backpack and pulled out a glass bottle of milk. The label was completely in French.

"Here. My aunt brought this fancy imported stuff over. Its insanely expensive."

My mouth watered instantly. At home, anything even remotely high-end went straight to Aubrey. I reached out to grab it.

Before my fingers brushed the glass, he pulled out a second bottle. Pink liquid, a perfect strawberry on the label. "And this strawberry one is for your sister."

My hand snapped back to my side like I'd touched a hot stove.

Wyatt didn't even notice. "Its super sweet. Shell definitely love it."

I pressed my lips into a tight line, picked up my pace, and shoved past him down the hall.

"Hazel!" Wyatt called out from behind me. "Hazel?"

Dinner that evening. I kept up my icy facade. I mechanically shoveled food into my mouth, dropped my plate in the sink with robotic precision, and claimed my spot in front of the TV with absolute indifference. Nobody noticed.

Mom was too busy nagging Aubrey about not eating her asparagus. My stone-cold rebellion was completely invisible.

The icy exterior cracked the second my cartoon finished. The culprit was the sweet old grandpa! Not the rat-faced guy. Damn it.

My gamble tanked.

I threw a guilty glance at Aubrey. She just gave a soft, mocking snort.

My chest tightened. Losing half my cash physically hurt.

"Fine. A bet's a bet. I'll split my allowance with"

"Keep your pennies," she cut in, not even bothering to look at me. "I don't need them."

I whipped around toward the kitchen. "Mom! I need a raise on my allowance!"

"What you get is plenty," she dismissed, wiping the counter.

"Can I at least get half of what Aubrey gets?" I tried pleading, softening my voice. "Please, Mom."

Mom stopped wiping. Her eyes pinned me down, cold and calculating. "Your sister plays piano. She does debate."

"She sings. She has straight A's." She tilted her head slightly. "Hazel, what exactly do you have?"

The air rushed out of my lungs. I froze. She was right. I had nothing.

I wasn't enrolled in a single extracurricular class.

"That's" I swallowed the heavy lump in my throat, my voice dropping to a whisper. "That's because I've never been taught anything"

"And you think taking classes would actually change that?" Her tone was absolute zero. The conversation was dead. She turned her back on me.

"Aubrey. Piano room. Now."

A moment later, a flawless, elegant melody drifted out from Aubreys private practice room. Followed immediately by Moms sickeningly sweet praise. "Beautiful, sweetheart."

Chapter 5

I stared blankly at the TV screen. The bright, flashing colors bled together into giant, blurry blobs. Watching cartoons was supposed to be my favorite thing in the world.

But right now? My throat burned like I had swallowed a handful of broken glass. The pressure behind my eyes was unbearable. I curled into a tight ball under my heavy comforter. It was hot and suffocating, the fabric sticking to my damp face as my shoulders shook uncontrollably. I must have passed out from exhaustion at some point.

The next morning, my eyelids were swollen shut, heavy and pulsing with a dull ache. I kept my head down, mechanically shoving dry toast down my throat, and bolted straight back to my room.

A knock echoed through the apartment.

Moms footsteps tapped across the hardwood. "Hi, Mrs. Ni! I'm here to see Hazel."

It was Wyatt.

I had fully planned on freezing him out for at least another week. But he actually showed up at my door to beg for forgiveness. A tight knot in my chest unraveled. A petty, smug little thrill shot through meAubrey never had friends knocking on our door for her.

I decided I could let him off the hook. Just this once. I pressed the heels of my hands against my puffy eyes, desperately trying to rub the swelling down.

But I waited. And waited. Wyatt never called my name. Instead, the low murmur of conversation drifted from the living room, punctuated by bursts of obnoxious giggling.

I cracked my bedroom door open and peeked out.

Wyatt was practically glued to Aubreys side on the couch. He was leaning in, laughing like an idiot, totally desperate for her attention. Aubrey giggled, batting those ridiculously long eyelashes. Wyatt looked like he had just won the lottery.

What the hell?

My blood ran hot, my nails digging into my palms. Screw him. He was dead to me.

Wyatt happened to glance up. He jumped, his eyes going wide. "Hazel, what the hell happened to your face?"

"Mosquito bites," I muttered, crossing my arms defensively over my chest.

Aubrey burst into a flawless, ringing laugh. "Doesn't she look exactly like that flat-faced suspect from the cartoon?" She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at me. "Now that her eyes are practically swollen shut, the resemblance is uncanny."

Wyatt blinked, catching on a second later. He barked out a loud laugh. "Holy crap, you're right! Totally identical!"

They cracked up, feeding off each other's amusement.

A hot, prickly heat burned up my neck, my face flushing tight.

"You're the ugly ones!" I yelled, my fists clenching so hard my nails bit into my palms. "You both look like actual trash!"

I slammed my bedroom door shut, the impact rattling the frame. Even through the wall, I could still hear their muffled, mocking whispers.

I snatched my compact mirror off the desk and glared at my reflection. We didn't look that much alike. If he was a giant sewer rat, I was maybe a field mouse. And field mice aren't even ugly. They have big eyes and twitchy little noses. They're kind of cute, actually.

I stewed in my own logic for a few minutes until the burning in my chest finally cooled down.

When Wyatt finally decided to leave, Mom ordered me to walk him down to the lobby.

I dug my heels into the floor.

"Don't be a brat," Mom snapped. "Walk your guest out."

I kept my face blank and marched out the door. Wyatt trailed behind me, shooting me sideways glances in the elevator.

"Hey, Hazel"

"Don't ever come over here again," I cut him off, my voice dead flat. "And if you do, don't use me as an excuse. Just admit you're here to drool over Aubrey." I stared straight ahead at the metal doors. "We are absolutely done."

Wyatt's expression hardened, his shoulders stiffening defensively. "What's your problem? Aubrey is way prettier than you, and I want to hang out with her. Deal with it."

I scoffed. "You're pathetic. So shallow."

"You're a massive hypocrite!" Wyatt shot back, his voice echoing loudly in the small metal box. "You judged that cartoon guy just because he was ugly! You called him a criminal based on his face!"

I froze. The words hit me like a physical blow.

Realizing he'd found a weak spot, he twisted the knife. "You're just violently jealous because your sister is actually gorgeous." He said it with absolute, sickening certainty. "No wonder you never talk about her. I bet you torture her at home, don't you? Seriously, Hazel, you act exactly like one of those evil stepsisters"

He tossed the words out like a careless joke. I stared at his reflection in the polished steel doors of the elevator. The brushed metal warped and stretched his features, twisting his face into a grotesque, ugly mask. I didn't recognize the boy standing next to me at all.

Chapter 6

I pressed my lips together so hard I tasted copper. My eyes burned, but the tears wouldn't come anymore. They were completely dried up. Jealous? Maybe.

But I had neverneversaid a single bad word about Aubrey to anyone. Not once.

Wyatt was supposed to be my best friend. He knew that. He knew I had never complained about her to him.

"You're disgusting," I spat.

Wyatt froze. His head snapped toward me, his arrogant expression faltering.

I locked eyes with him, my voice steady and cold. "I regret ever being friends with you. We are done."

He stared at me, realizing I wasn't throwing a tantrum. I was entirely serious.

His face flushed dark red, his jaw snapping shut. "Fine! You think I care? I don't need you! I'll just hang out with Aubrey instead!"

The elevator chimed. The doors slid open. He stepped out, still glaring back at me. "Don't come crying to"

I slammed my hand onto the 'Close Door' button, cutting him off.

By the time I walked back into the apartment, Mom was already setting lunch on the table. Aubreys bowl was practically overflowing with the best cuts of meat, piled high like a little mountain.

I kicked off my shoes, scrambled into my chair, and immediately started inhaling my food, fighting for whatever was left on the serving plates.

Mom shot me a sharp, warning glare.

I quickly swallowed a huge bite and forced a bright, obnoxious smile. "Mom, your cooking is literally the best!"

"Of course it is," she scoffed, her expression instantly softening into a smug smile. She picked up another prime piece of ribs with her chopsticks and dropped it onto Aubrey's mounting pile. "Eat up, sweetie."

I stared down at my rice and kept chewing. It was fine if my parents loved Aubrey more. It was fine if my friends chose her over me. The world was massive. If I just focused on survivingif I just ate, grew up fast, and got the hell out of herethen somewhere out there, there had to be someone who would choose me first.

I never spoke to Wyatt again. Whenever we crossed paths in the courtyard, I looked right through him like he didn't exist. He didn't end up hanging out with Aubrey, either. She was way too busy for him.

My routine went back to normal. School. Home. Weekends. Running wild outside. Getting screamed at by Mom.

Until one Saturday afternoon.

Aubrey, shockingly, wasn't forced into the piano room. Mom and Dad were dressed up, fussing over her. They were going to someone's house for dinner.

Mom wrestled Aubrey into a flawless, ruffled dress, braiding her hair and pinning a sparkling little tiara to the top of her head. Without turning around, she threw an order over her shoulder at me: "Make yourself presentable."

I dug through my closet, pulling out a floral t-shirt I usually saved for special occasions, and clipped a plastic bow into my hair. Mom didn't even look at me. She just grabbed Aubreys hand, locked her arm through Dad's, and headed out the door.

I trailed behind them. In the elevator mirror, I checked my reflection. I gave myself a little nod. Not bad.

We pulled up to a massive, gated mansion. We walked through a perfectly manicured garden. Inside, Dad immediately started networking with some guy in a suit. Mom dragged Aubrey right up to a stunningly elegant woman.

"This is my daughter, Aubrey," Mom boasted, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "She plays the piano, does debate her instructors say she's a prodigy."

Aubrey flashed a rehearsed, sickeningly sweet smile. "Hello, ma'am."

The elegant woman smiled politely, patting Aubrey's head.

I stood off to the side, waiting for my turn. Waiting for Mom to introduce me.

Instead, Mom seamlessly pivoted. "And where is your son?"

The womans smile tightened. A flash of something uncomfortable crossed her face. "He's upstairs in his room. He should be down shortly." She smoothed her skirt. "He's not very talkative."

"Oh, that's fine!" Mom chirped eagerly. "He's right around Aubrey's age, isn't he? They'll get along perfectly."

The woman just gave a tight, noncommittal smile. Nobody acknowledged me. So, I occupied myself by eyeing the snack spread on the coffee table. Tiny, delicate cookies with foreign writing on the wrappers. They looked incredibly expensive.

Suddenly, the heavy thud of footsteps echoed from the top of the sweeping staircase.

Chapter 7

Someone was coming down. I instinctively looked toward the stairs. That was the first time I saw Elias.

In my limited worldview, Aubrey was the peak of human perfection. But Elias? He blew her out of the water. The boy looked like flawless, cold porcelain locked behind museum glass. Intricate. Delicate. And radiating an untouchable, freezing aura.

Human instinct naturally gravitates toward beautiful things. My mother immediately started gushing. "Oh my goodness, he inherited the absolute best of both of you!"

Even Aubrey couldn't stop herself from flashing him a dazzling, eager smile.

But I was actively trying to fix my toxic trait of judging people by their faces. So, I forced myself to look away after a single glance. I glued my eyes back to the expensive cookies on the coffee table.

"Elias," the elegant woman said gently. "This is Mrs. Ni, and this is Aubrey and this is"

Could I just walk over and grab a cookie? I wondered. I should probably ask the lady first

A sudden, biting blast of cold cedar and mint enveloped me, overriding the stale air of the living room