Fake

All around was a sense of faked identity. The deck of cards, not well-used, was stacked almost perfectly next to a bottle of vitamin water. A card shark she was not; a health nut she was not. In an elastic band there was a different sort of card set; these were Pokemon cards, very old and worn around the edges. She had never learned how to play with them, and so was giving them to her adopted younger brother. A yellowed, dog-eared copy of The Fellowship of the Ring sat open on the armrest. She skimmed most paragraphs, looking for dialog and scenes she recognized from the movie. On a chair next to her, AP magazine lay flattened, one page torn out. A photo of Alex Gaskarth grinned up at her, daring her to admit she'd never listened to All Time Low.

The girl in the mismatched canvas shorts and dress shirt, the girl with the stolen identity, will never find her stereotype.