"Are we really identical?" Nina had planned the question for weeks. They were pinning up notices about a missing boy from Pizzicato Crossing. Nina wanted to try something, but Lena had to think it was her idea, or she'd never agree.
       "That's what 'identical twins' means," Lena said. "Hold this."
       Nina held the notice against the tree while Lena hammered in the pins. She'd planned for this response.
       Lena did everything first. First born, first to feel Resonance, first to join the orchestra. She was first to enter any room, first to speak, first to laugh. Nina was always second. Lena was best at the violin. Nina wasn't sure the violin was even her Harmony. How had her mother described Resonance when she was a child? It was joy--the pure joy the Phoenix gave them to bind them to their music. Music created with Resonance was the Phoenix's heartbeat, giving her the strength to carry the world around the sun. But if Resonance was so wonderful, why did Nina hate the violin so much? Why did it feel like it didn't fit in her arms? Why did every rehearsal leave her drained and aching as if she were ill? She never told Lena. They were identical, so if Lena's Harmony was the violin, Nina's must be too.
       Normally, Nina didn't mind being second, but last week, Lena had been first to kiss a boy--the very boy at the Orphans' Home for whom Nina had cherished a secret flame for months. Lena had known. Did Lena kiss Tanielo simply to be first? Could Nina still kiss Tanielo--second? She wasn't sure she wanted to anymore.
       "But are we identical inside?" Nina tried to sound casual, but clutched the stack of notices so tight her fingers tingled. The winter air chilled the sweat on the back of her neck.
       Again, Lena's answer was predictable. "Of course. That's what identical means."
       Nina dropped it. She couldn't push Lena.
       Lena led the way down the road to hang their last notice. It was starting to snow, the first snow of the year. Lena beamed up at the sky.
       "Do you think they'll find him?" Nina asked, looking at the drawing of the sweet-faced boy: Po Reedcutter, the son of the Pizzicato Crossing conductor, missing three days. He was deaf. His parents had offered a reward. Nina thought the notices looked like the signs people hung in the instrument house for misplaced sheet music or winter coats.
       "I don't think so," Lena said. A guardian called from up the road, and they headed back toward town. "I think the Sassi took him. They must not have realized he was deaf."
       Nina shivered. The Sassi traveled the world, buying and selling in every city and town. They didn't play music. Worst of all, they took children and sold them to the Northern Choirs. Nina didn't want to think of the Sassi snatching twelve-year-old Po Reedcutter off the side of the road. "He could have run away."
       "Why would he do that? He's the conductor's son, even if he is deaf."
       "He could have a reason." He probably didn't fit in the orchestra. He couldn't hear, after all. How could he play an instrument? Nina stifled her next thought--we could leave too. It had been a flutter in the back of her mind for a while. She didn't want to stay here, where her parents had died, where no one glanced twice at her. But Lena loved Chime Hollow.
       Lena had left their shutters open, and snow was piling up on the windowsill. Shivering, Nina went to close them.
       "Leave them open," Lena said.
       "It'll snow on the rug." But Nina left the shutters open. She sat on her narrow bed and undid her braid. "So... You really think we're identical?"
       Lena groaned and flopped down on her own bed. Then she gasped. "Nina, I have the best idea." She launched herself off her bed and across the room to close the shutters. "We should switch places tomorrow! See if anyone can tell."
       Nina hid a grin. "Sounds fun."
       "They'll never guess," Lena said. She sat back down, bouncing a little on the mattress. It squeaked. "Because we're identical."
       "Mama and Papa would guess." Nina had to say it. Their parents could always tell them apart. They'd made Nina feel special. But they'd died in the earthquake five years ago, and the twins had been at the Orphans' Home ever since, where no one cared enough to tell them apart.
       Lena nodded. "They'd know right away. No one else will guess, though."
       Nina hoped Lena was wrong. She hoped and hoped and hoped someone would see her tomorrow, not as Lena's twin, not as Lena's shadow, but as Nina, as herself. She prayed to the Phoenix that someone would realize she was different.

       Nina slept badly. The thought of finally being seen was exhilarating, but what would she do once people were looking? Po Reedcutter, the missing deaf boy, stood at the edges of her dreams and beckoned, but she was too scared to follow him.
       In the morning, Lena bounded out of bed, ready for her brilliant plan. Nina's plan.
       "You have to wear my clothes," Lena said. "And use my hair ribbon. And we should switch Harmonies, don't you think?"
       So Nina put on Lena's maroon dress and cream sweater. She wove Lena's gold ribbon into her violinist's braid--a braid that started above her right ear, wrapped around her head, and finished in a single plait down her left shoulder. To her surprise, Lena's boots pinched her toes. Had Tanielo kissed Lena because she had smaller feet?
       "Ready?" Lena was wearing Nina's royal blue dress and her favorite sweater--gray cotton with fraying sleeves. There was no ribbon in her hair. Her eyes sparkled with mischief.
       "Ready," Nina said. She stepped back so Lena could lead the way. Lena didn't move. Then Nina remembered that she--pretending to be Lena--had to go first. She took a deep breath, held her head high, and strode into the hall.
       Lena grumbled, "You're going to make a terrible me."

       Being Lena was hard.
       At school, their teacher called on Nina over and over again. Nina was forced to recite all the modal scales, solve an algebra problem at the blackboard, and read a passage from Ylenna Kellerson's diary of the Hundred Days of Darkness. When the teacher didn't call on Nina, Lena was kicking her behind their desk to volunteer answers herself.
       Lena wasn't having any trouble. She kept her head down and worked in silence, occasionally peeking at Nina's slate--and correcting her work. The one time she was called on, she mumbled and stumbled her way through the answer.
       But Nina got used to speaking up, enjoyed it, even. There was a heady rush to hearing her voice ring through the classroom.
       After school, they went to the instrument house to collect their Harmonies for rehearsal. It had finally stopped snowing, but the paths hadn't been shoveled yet. Lena trailed behind Nina. Nina, imitating Lena's usual glee, let out a whoop and dashed through the knee-deep snow, heedless of how it soaked her shoes and dress. The smile stretching her face wasn't forced at all.
       Nina slowed down once they picked up their instruments. Lena would kill her if she dropped her violin. Then Tanielo caught up to them and slipped his hand into hers. "Hello."
       Nina's stomach churned. She glanced back, but Lena had her head down. Tanielo smiled at her. She could pull her hand away, tell him she was Nina. Or she could tell him she couldn't do this because it was hurting her sister. She stopped that thought cold. Lena didn't deserve that.
       "Hello," she said. Her voice cracked.
       Tanielo squeezed her hand, sending shoots of warmth up her arm. "Ready for your solo?"
       The warmth vanished. She'd completely forgotten Lena's solo. Today was the first day Lena would play it in rehearsal. She'd been practicing for weeks.
       "I--uh--"
       They entered the rehearsal hall. "You'll be fine," Tanielo said. He kissed Nina's forehead, then went to join the cellists.
       Nina turned to Lena, stricken. "I can't play your solo! I'm terrible. I'll mess up, and you'll lose your seat, and--"
       "You're going to do this," Lena said, but it looked like it cost her.
       Nina led the way to their seats. Her new confidence had shriveled into a hard knot of anxiety. Her hands trembled as she unlatched Lena's case, spread her music on the stand, and lifted her violin.
       "We have a few minutes," Lena whispered. The hall was barely half full.
       Shivering, Nina tuned Lena's violin. Lena had built it herself. It was beautiful, all warm wood and glossy finish. But it didn't fit Nina. Her chin felt too big for the chin rest, her arms too long to reach the strings. Of course, her own child's violin, which Lena was tuning with her face puckered, wasn't much better.
       "I thought you were making your own," Lena said through her teeth.
       "I thought Resonance meant you can make any violin sound good."
       "Not if it's rubbish."
       Nina was too nervous to be indignant. She found the solo in Lena's music and awkwardly laid her bow against the strings. Her violin squealed like a dying bird. Both girls winced.
       Nina lowered the violin. "I can't do it."
       "Try again."
       Nina tried again. And again. It was too quiet, too hesitant, and altogether scratchy and screechy, nothing like the pure, ringing notes Lena coaxed from this thing.
       Too soon, their conductor, Fedrian, strode up to his podium. Nina sank low in her seat. "Lena, switch with me. Please!"
       "No."
       "Let's begin," Fedrian called.
       The melody was passed from the clarinets to the cellos to the horns. The bells dashed along merrily. Nina stumbled in their wake, trying not to cry. She would ruin everything for Lena just because she wanted to be heard. Well, she'd be heard now. And she sounded awful.
       The other violins began humming with sustained chords. The cellos took up the melody again, but quietly.
       "Go!" Lena hissed around her chin rest.
       Nina plunged into the solo. It grated through her, and she shuddered as she turned a soaring descant into chopped mutton. She felt like her stomach was being turned inside out. She plowed on, tears sliding down her cheeks.
       Fedrian kept them going past her solo, but Nina set her violin in her lap and folded over it, shaking with sobs. Lena gripped Nina's shoulder until she got hold of herself.
       Nina wiped her nose on her sleeve--Lena winced--and picked up her violin. Somehow, she muddled through the rest of the piece. Then she stared into space as Fedrian gave them notes. Finally, he turned to her. "Don't worry, Lena. The weather's messing with all our instruments."
       It was a nice thing to say, but it was a lie. Lena hadn't had any trouble. For all her complaining about Nina's violin, every note she played was its own melody.
       After rehearsal, Nina returned Lena's violin to the instrument house. She fussed with its position on the rack, wanting Lena to leave without her.
       Fingers brushed her neck. Nina jerked around. Tanielo shifted his hand to her shoulder. "It really wasn't so bad, Nina."
       Her eyes flew wide. "How--?"
       "Lena told me. You did fine. Great, even, all things considered."
       "All things considered?" Her voice was brittle. Why had Lena told him? Why was he even talking to her?
       "I was just--I was watching you play." His cheeks turned red. Nina's ears flamed. "And, well..." He held out his cello.
       "What?" She was completely baffled.
       He pushed her braid over her shoulder and nestled his cello against her chest. He wrapped her hand around the neck.
       Nina gasped. It felt right. So right. She reached for his bow before she knew what she was doing. Then the bow was in her hand, and she was bringing it down across the strings. A low note sang out, filling the instrument house.
       "Oh." She'd never felt anything like this. Was this real Resonance? "Flaming Phoenix!"
       "That's what I thought," Tanielo said. "I could see it. How you held the violin. How you moved your bow." He leaned towards her. Nina clutched his cello, afraid of what would happen when he took it back. But he wrapped his warm hand around the bow, covering hers. He guided her to draw the bow across the strings. With his other hand, he positioned her fingers on the fingerboard. "Press with these fingers. Now like this. Now, this." A D. An A. A G. It was more intimate than a kiss, yet it broke Nina's heart.
       Tanielo helped her return her child's violin and choose a cello. He found her a fingering chart and switched her violin music for the cello parts. Then he'd left her to practice with a tender kiss--his mouth just brushing hers. "I never kissed Lena," he whispered.
       Nina walked home slowly. She'd never been so happy and so furious. The sun was setting, turning the snow to a patchwork of blues and oranges. Her skin still hummed with Resonance--real Resonance. Her new child's cello was a comforting weight against her back. But she didn't know what she'd say to Lena. Part of her never wanted to speak to her again.
       She turned onto Kellerson Street, just a few blocks from the Orphans' Home. There was a slight figure ahead, keeping to the shadows. He was reading one of the notices about Po Reedcutter. No, he was taking it down. Nina began to run, her feet slipping in the snow. "What are you doing?" she called. The boy didn't turn.
       She knew who he was before she reached him. Sure enough, when she grabbed his shoulder, Po Reedcutter twisted around with a squeal.
       She opened her mouth, then remembered he couldn't hear her. She fished a pencil from her pocket and wrote on the notice he'd been about to take down. I won't tell. She hesitated, then added, Swear on the Phoenix. Did you run away?
       Po took the pencil. I'm a conductor. Like my mother. I couldn't take her place. They'd never-- He made to chew the pencil, then stopped, seeming to remember it was Nina's. They'd never let me. They'd never hear what I could do for them.
       There was melting snow in his curly hair. He was a head shorter than her, probably a couple of years younger too, and yet those were her feelings on that page. She wondered what he thought of her, a girl with a violinist's braid and a cello on her back. She took the pencil. What will you do?
       Po crammed his answer into the corner. Going to find people in Phoenix City who don't have an orchestra. Bring them music.
       He turned and disappeared around the corner. Nina stared after him, chewing her pencil and trying to fit this new feeling of possibility into all the other emotions of the day.
       At last, she made up her mind. Her heart twanged, but she squared her shoulders and headed back to the Orphans' Home.
       When Nina entered their room, Lena looked up from her music theory book, beaming. "Well?"
       Nina laid her new cello on her bed. "You tricked me."
       Lena nodded. "We knew your Harmony wasn't the violin. You knew it too. You just didn't want to admit it. So we proved it to you. Are you honestly angry?"
       Honestly? She'd hated the violin. Only now did she realize how much. But... "It was my idea to switch places, and you turned it into--"
       "Your idea?" Lena stood up. "I've been working on you for a month. Why do you think I said I kissed Tanielo? Why do you think I've been such a brat for weeks? Why do you think I planned it so you could play my solo?"
       "You didn't plan--I suggested--"
       "Because I made you want to prove something yourself. If you hadn't brought it up last night, I'd have done it myself. Come on, Nina, we did this for you."
       "Who's we? You and Tanielo? Did Fedrian know? What about the guardians?" Her voice broke. Had they all been laughing at her? Or worse, pitying her? "Was anything today real?"
       Lena was stricken. "Of course it was. All of it."
       Nina went to her wardrobe, yanked down her clothes, and stuffed them into a bag. She hadn't meant to leave like this, but she'd wanted to leave for months, and she couldn't stay--she'd decided that the moment Po wrote those words: They'd never hear me.
       Because it was true. They would never hear her here. So she'd go to Phoenix City and start an orchestra with Po. She'd bring real Resonance to people who'd never felt it. She'd do something brave and wonderful and all her own.
       "Tanielo likes you, but he didn't know how to talk to you because you're so shy," Lena said. "So, I--What are you doing? Nina! What are you doing?"
       "Going."
       "Going...? No." Lena's eyes were panicked. "Nina, you can't go."
       "Sure, I can. I'm fourteen. I can go wherever I want."
       "Then I'll come." Nina couldn't ignore the desperation in her twin's voice, but it had been Nina's idea to switch places, and Lena had tricked her. Lena had turned all of it--Nina's misery, her discovery, her new Harmony--into her own--Lena's clever plan, Lena's selflessness, Lena's victory. Nina couldn't let Lena take this choice on her own too. She had to do this alone. She had to prove she could.
       "You can't come, Lena," Nina said. "I need to figure things out for myself. All right?"
       "No!" Lena shrieked. "It is not all right!"
       "You're the one who tricked me into--I don't even know what anymore!" Nina shouted. "What did you expect?"
       "Not this."
       Nina buckled the straps on her bag.
       "You were so unhappy," Lena said. "I had to do something."
       "I can name seven other things you could've done." Nina hoisted her cello onto her back and forced her way through their bedroom door.
       "Nina, come back! I'm sorry!" Lena raced after her, but Nina took the stairs two at a time. She stumbled at the bottom. She was still wearing Lena's boots.
       "No!"
       Nina turned. Tanielo had grabbed Lena from behind on the landing. Lena struggled fruitlessly. Tanielo spoke quietly, but Lena ignored him.
       "Please don't go, Nina!" Lena shouted. "I need you!"
       "No, you don't! You're smarter and funnier and braver and-- Why would you need me?"
       "Because I know you're behind me." Tears were flooding down Lena's cheeks.
       "Well, I don't need you." It was another lie--Nina couldn't have done anything today without Lena behind her, pushing her forward. But she was glad to see the words hurt Lena the way Lena had hurt her.
       Lena stopped fighting Tanielo. "Your boots," she mumbled and knelt to pull them off. "Your feet hurt in mine." She tossed them to Nina. Nina changed her boots--her feet really were hurting.
       "You'll write?" Tanielo said. "Tell us you're safe?"
       Nina nodded. She couldn't be angry with Tanielo. He'd tried to help. He'd given her the cello. But Lena had been trying to help too, and maybe it was the only way Nina would have listened. Nina had hated the violin, but she'd never said anything, never tried something new. When had she stopped trusting Lena to understand her? When had she stopped trusting herself?
       "What happened to us?" she asked Lena.
       "I don't know," Lena whispered. "But... you think this will help?"
       "Yes." Nina choked on a sob of her own. "I don't know."
       Lena raced downstairs and flung her arms around Nina, holding her so tight Nina thought she might not fall apart after all. Nina held her just as tight.
       "I love you."
       "I love you too."
       Nina glanced back at the door, fixing the sight of Lena and Tanielo in her mind, Lena crying, Tanielo forcing a miserable smile for her. Tears blurred her vision, but she wiped them away, turned, and stepped out into the darkness.