Double or Nothing

  Copyright © Brooke Carter 2020

  Published in Canada and the United States in 2020 by Orca Book Publishers.

  orcabook.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Title: Double or nothing / Brooke Carter.

  Names: Carter, Brooke, 1977– author.

  Series: Orca soundings.

  Description: Series statement: Orca soundings

  Identifiers: Canadiana (print) 20200176099 | Canadiana (ebook) 20200176102 | ISBN 9781459823815 (softcover) | ISBN 9781459823822 (PDF) | ISBN 9781459823839 (EPUB)

  Classification: LCC PS8605.A77776 D68 2020 | DDC jC813/.6—dc23

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2020930588

  Summary: In this high-interest accessible novel for teen readers, when a teenage genius descends deeper into a gambling addiction, her twin sister becomes embroiled in her dangerous game.

  Orca Book Publishers is committed to reducing the consumption of nonrenewable resources in the making of our books. We make every effort to use materials that support a sustainable future.

  Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada, the Canada Council for the Arts and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

  Edited by Tanya Trafford

  Design by Ella Collier

  Cover images by Gettyimages.ca/Asia Marosa / EyeEm and

  Shutterstock.com/Krasovski Dmitri (back)

  Printed and bound in Canada.

  23 22 21 20 • 1 2 3 4

  Orca Book Publishers is proud of the hard work our authors do and of the important stories they create. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it or did not check it out from a library provider, then the author has not received royalties for this book. The ebook you are reading is licensed for single use only and may not be copied, printed, resold or given away. If you are interested in using this book in a classroom setting, we have digital subscriptions with multi user, simultaneous access to our books, or classroom licenses available for purchase. For more information, please contact digital@orcabook.com.

  ivaluecanadianstories.ca

  For my parents, and for second chances.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  I turn my lucky coin over in my fingers, slipping the cool metal from one knuckle to another. I flip it and wonder, Will it be heads? Or tails? I’m amazed by the odds. Not just the odds of my own coin flips, but the odds of everything. Of the weird connections between people and events. Of winning or losing my favorite game, poker. Or the odds I’m thinking of right now as I sit in a third-year English class watching a movie about Hamlet.

  I’m only in this class because I need it for my early entrance scholarship. Most people don’t go to college when they’re fifteen, like I did. They most certainly don’t take advanced courses like I do now at the ripe old age of eighteen. This class so boring (I’m pre-med, and I prefer math), but the movie we’re watching has some redeeming qualities. Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead is about a couple of nobodies whose job it is to watch over the nutcase Hamlet.

  It’s kind of blowing my mind right now, because the characters are talking about the odds of coin flips, and Guildenstern’s coin is coming up heads every time. Right when I just happen to be fiddling with my own lucky coin. It’s a 1970 American quarter. My grandpa gave it to me before he died. He was really into coin collecting. The cool thing is that it’s a special sample of a coin, called a proof. It was cast on top of a 1941 Canadian quarter by accident. Grandpa told me that no one knows how the Canadian coin got mixed up in the US mint, but it’s pretty neat. Apparently there are a lot of them in circulation.

  I’m supposed to be thinking about the themes in this movie, but as usual I’m thinking a thousand things at once. I’m thinking about the coin combinations on the screen. I’m thinking about probability theory. I’m thinking about the odds of my coin matching the flips the characters make. I’m thinking about Hamlet and the sucky life he’s living. To be or not to be, dude. Yeah, that is the question.

  I’m thinking about how I will pass this course. I’m thinking about my twin sister, Aggie. She’s also a genius and is sitting next to me. She is enjoying this movie in a way I never could. This is the only class we share together, and that’s a good thing. I hate having Aggie always checking up on me.

  But mostly I’m thinking about my cell phone. The prof made me turn it off when I got to class. But I had several windows open. Online gambling and stock-trading apps. Every second that goes by, I’m losing money.

  Aggie thinks we’re not rooming together this year because I need space to figure out who I am besides a twin. But really it’s so that I can gamble in privacy. I count cards, analyze stats, make bets. Flip coins. Normal teen-genius-gambling-addict stuff.

  Our English prof, a hairy, young Mark Ruffalo-type named Dr. Dave Murray, stops the movie.

  “We’ll watch the rest tomorrow,” he says. “In the meantime I want you to think about tragic flaws…”

  I start tuning him out and gathering my stuff together. “Whatever, Dr. Dave,” I mutter.

  Aggie gives me a side-eye. “Shh.”

  “Think about Hamlet’s tragic flaw in particular,” Dr. Dave continues. “Anyone care to tell us what it is?” He scans the room, waiting. “Come on, you’ve all read the play.”

  His gaze lands on me. “Ester Tomasi,” he says. “You seem ready to share.” He challenges me with a look.

  I sigh. “He’s unlucky,” I say, and Dr. Dave looks surprised.

  “Care to elaborate?” he asks.

  “Well, look what happens to him. His dad dies, probably murdered by his own mother and uncle, then his dead dad haunts him and asks him to seek revenge. He can’t trust anyone. His girlfriend kills herself. He pretty much loses his mind. And then he dies in the end! I mean, the odds of all these things happening, not to mention all the cases of mistaken identity and double-crossings, are astronomical. I’d call that pretty unlucky.”

  Dr. Dave nods slowly. “Anyone have a different take?” he asks. “Agatha?”

  He looks at my sister, who shifts uncomfortably in the seat next to me. I know she hates this as much as I do. Not the class, but the constant competition people force us into. It’s like we can’t exist without being compared to the other. It’s Twin Torture™.

  I stare at her, and she falters a bit as she speaks. “Um, I had a slightly different take,” she begins.

  Oh, Aggie, ever the diplomatic one.

  “Go on,” says Dr. Dave.

  “I think Hamlet’s tragic flaw is that he can’t make decisions.”

  Dr. Dave nods, and I can see that Aggie’s going to get yet another gold star for this one.

  She continues. “Haml
et is really smart, but he overthinks everything to the point that he can’t act. And that makes everything fall apart for him.” She glances at me. I can tell she feels bad for me.

  For some reason that bugs me. My points are just as valid. “If it’s not about luck and odds,” I say, “then why did this movie starring characters from Hamlet open with coin flips? And why have we been talking about this so-called Wheel of Fortune all semester?”

  “Well, that’s not really—” Dr. Dave starts, but I keep talking.

  “No, the whole thing is completely absurd. Do you know what the odds are of getting heads ninety-two times in a row? It’s, like, one in two, but to the hundredth power. So, to me, that’s saying it’s just down to fate. And if that’s the case, then what hope do any of us have? There’s no free will. Just the indifference of random chance. Really, the characters only have two options. Heads or tails. Stay or go. Live or die. Just like us. Just like Hamlet. To be or not to be. Hamlet is not indecisive. He’s just upset that the game is rigged. And it’s rigged for all of us.”

  I finish ranting and look up. The room is silent. Total crickets. My classmates regard me with a dazed look. Dr. Dave nods as if he understands me, but I know he doesn’t. He can’t. He has the look of a man who feels he has always known exactly what the truth is and how to teach it.

  “Let’s pick this up next time, class,” he says.

  Everyone moves to gather their books and go.

  As I stand up, Aggie is looking at me with a mixture of amusement and concern. She’s the only one who gets what I’m saying, of course. The thing about being an identical twin is that you’ve got an awful lot in common. We enjoy different things, but Agatha is the smartest person I know.

  Standing here, facing each other, we’re mirror images. Our brown hair is the exact same shade and length, although Aggie likes to wear hers in a perky ponytail. I let mine fall forward and cover half of my face. Her big brown eyes are the same as mine, but she always wears a skim of tasteful liner, whereas I like to pile on the shadow. She’s about a quarter of an inch taller than me, but I wear combat boots and she wears ballet flats, so it evens out. Aside from our respective fashion senses (she’s preppy, I’m…not), you would never be able to tell us apart.

  “Es, do you get the feeling you don’t belong?” she asks, smiling at me. “Twin Time™?”

  This is a reference to our hours-long gabfests that usually result in us eating way too much ramen and looking up guys on social media. She goes for the Scandinavian footballer types—big, brawny ones. I prefer the polar opposite.

  I don’t answer her, even though I feel like I could use some Twin Time™. “Look, I have to split,” I say. “I have to meet my advisor about my scholarship.”

  She narrows her eyes. “How are you doing, by the way? Are you getting better grades?” She’s referring to my little problem of doing insanely well in the classes I like and flunking the ones I don’t.

  “Me? Fine. Just peachy,” I answer, avoiding her eyes.

  She sighs. “Then I’ll see you later? It’s your turn to buy food tonight. I want pizza. I’ll stop by your room at seven?”

  “Fine. See you.”

  I shoulder my backpack and climb the lecture-theater steps two at a time. I want to get back to the privacy of my dorm room. Back to my poker. Back to the quiet of numbers. I’m supposed to meet my advisor—that part is true. The lie was that I’m not planning to go to the meeting. I have more important things to do.

  Chapter Two

  Safely back in my single dorm room, I lock the door behind me and head to my Machine. That’s what I call my custom-built desktop computer. It has a powerful tower and three ultra-high-definition monitors. I spent nearly a semester’s worth of tuition on this sucker. I could probably launch a rocket with this thing, but right now all I need it to do is run my favorite online poker game, Texas Hold’em.

  I pull up my playlist and crank the volume. I prefer punky tunes from angry chick bands like Hole and Bikini Kill. The energy keeps me in the right headspace. I need to feel powerful. I’m logged in (my handle is PokerGrrl), and I’m ready to take everyone’s money.

  “Okay,” I say out loud. “Let’s see what you’ve got.” I lean back and stretch my arms and shoulders, easing the permanent kink I have in my neck from hunching over my keyboard. Maybe next year I’ll get a stand-up desk.

  I catch my reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of my dorm-room door. I look tired. I haven’t been sleeping much. And my luck hasn’t been great. I need to win tonight. I’m down a lot of money.

  Even though poker is my drug of choice, it’s not just cards that I love. Anything I can bet on will do. And I can find a game anywhere. Horse racing, online games, sports, random bets with strangers—I love it all. I get a rush from the risk and the potential big payoff, but that’s not the real draw.

  More than anything, I’m attracted to the low of defeat. Because once you get down to the bottom, the only thing left to do is build yourself back up again. That’s the part I like best. The comeback. That’s the real high.

  Trouble is, the stakes are getting so high it’s hard to see past them. I know I’m at risk of flunking out, going broke, losing my scholarship and disappointing my parents. I have the two best parents in the universe, by the way. They mortgaged everything so that Aggie and I could study at this great school. An academic scholarship only covers so much. Here I am, on the verge of throwing it all away. I should get up, turn off the Machine and go study in the library. But I can’t. Other players are starting to join.

  The virtual dealer passes out the two “hole” cards to each player. I get a pair of nines, so I bet pretty hard. I want to raise the pot to weed out the weaker players. Several of them fold, but one remains, a player named BigFish. The dealer then hands out “the flop,” the first three of five cards we will share. There’s a pair of queens in there. So now I have two pair, queens high. Not bad. It’s possible BigFish has a higher pair, but maybe not.

  We continue betting and raising. The fourth card, “the turn,” is a three, which is probably useless to us both. Then the fifth and final card, “the river,” comes out. I am still hoping for another nine, which would give me a full house. It’s a jack.

  BigFish “checks,” which means they pass on betting. I take that as a sign they don’t have a great hand. I bet big, hoping they’ll fold, but instead BigFish calls my bluff. The pot is now well over $2,000. Our cards are revealed.

  I feel like I have been gut-punched.

  BigFish had pocket jacks, so a full house, jacks and queens. I’m screwed. I’ve lost. I am way off my game tonight.

  There’s a knock at the door. I almost don’t hear it over the wailing music. Crap! It must be Aggie. Of course it is.

  Aggie and her great timing. Good-girl Aggie, future human rights lawyer, all-around angel, and my permanent babysitter. It’s really annoying to have an equally smart but overachieving sibling. Especially when they look exactly like you. Sometimes I feel like Aggie got one half of our brain and I got the other, less healthy half. Aggie also got the sweeter personality. I got the darkness.

  The knocking continues, louder. After a minute my phone starts to buzz on my desk. I can see it light up with text messages. I peek at it. Yep, Aggie. She hates that I’ve got her listed as Twinsie. She must be mad because she’s shout-texting me:

  WHERE R U?

  U OWE ME PIZZA BEYOTCH

  ES, SERIOUSLY?????

  I don’t have time for pizza. I have to recoup this loss. I start a new game. I’ve only got a few hundred dollars left in my account, but if I’m really careful I can build it back up. I can do it. I’ve just got to focus. I take my lucky coin from my pocket and give it a few flips.

  I have some half-hearted thought that I’ll play for a little while and then track Aggie down to hang out. But I’m kidding myself. I’ll be doing this all night or until whenever I run out of money. I look back at the door, at my reflection, and I almost get up and o
pen it.

  Then BigFish makes a huge bet on the new game. The lights and the cards and the flashing dollar signs draw me back in.

  When I wake up, I’m still sitting in my computer chair, my head thrown back over the headrest and my neck so kinked that it makes a loud cracking noise as I sit up. The Machine has gone to sleep too, and with shaking hands I reach out and nudge the mouse to see where I left off. I know it can’t be good.

  I remember losing everything in the middle of the night, even playing online slots in a desperate attempt to win a few dollars back.

  When my monitors wake up, my heart falls. It looks like I applied for some credit cards last night too. Great.

  I check the time. Seven o’clock. I’ve got an early-morning chemistry class. I grab my jacket and backpack, a can of coke from my mini fridge and then head out the door.

  As I make my way across the quad, I come to a fork in the footpath. One way leads to the science building, and one path leads away to the parking lot (and to the beater car I share with Aggie). I could hop in the car, go get coffee and visit the skate park.

  I bet Dillon’s there. Dillon from psych class, with the black hair and the long T-shirts always ripped up on the side from his skateboard’s grip tape. Dillon with the so-brown-they’re-almost-black eyes and the constant dark rings under them that just kill me.

  No, I’ve got to go to class. I’ve already missed so many. I didn’t do the homework—again—and my professor, Dr. Haverly, will call me out for sure. She’s always making an example of me, even though the assignments are so basic I can’t see the point.

  I reach into my jeans pocket and retrieve my lucky coin. I’ll flip for it. Heads, I go to class and suffer through the boredom of lessons that are way too easy for me. And keep myself off academic probation for another day. Tails, I go to the skate park and see what kind of mood Dillon is in. He’s so hot and cold. Sometimes it seems like he’s into me, and other times he acts like I don’t exist. I love it.