Six blond bombshells. One brown haired, squinty eyed, jealous mom. One dad that ran from responsibility. One huge mansion on the California coast.
There are six of us. We are sextuplets. We are almost 16. We are all identical, split from the same egg. But that makes us more different than anyone cares to realize.
Our mother, Stephini, seems to resent us for our good looks. She isn't ugly, but she isn't a model either. But at least she stayed around to help us grow. Our dad left as soon as he learned Stephini was pregnant. He doesn't even know there are six of us.
My sisters and I basically live on our own. My mothers family was rich from some sort of enterprise and her parents gave her a mansion to raise us in. It is on the California coast and is five stories high. We have cooks and maids and chauffeurs. Our mother stays in her rooms most of the time.
We only have each other for company. At least we can always tell each other apart. There are only small differences, but we don't even need to look for them. It is almost like we can sense each other.