Imperfection. The word that describes her. She's thirteen when there are
only twelve. The accident, the dud, the mistake. She'd always has trouble
keeping up with the kids in school, and that was hard enough, but with the
other Amys... It was like being an invalid or something. She wasn't
anywhere near as good as the others. Amy, Seven, had tried to explain it to
her, but it still seemed so jumbled. DNA, clones and genetics were
something to be joked about and stuff in bad sci-fi flicks on late at
night. Not real life. Not her. And it wasn't as if she were advanced.
Just the opposite. Back on the island, they had been convinced she was
Three. Later, when Amy had told her what had happened to Three, she was
shocked. If a perfect clone had died under the strain of their tests, what
chance did she have?
But she had survived, and gone home to her 'parents' and the slow-learning
class at school, to pretend to be normal. Pretend to be real. But she's
not. And she knows it.