Jo turned and smiled. Which is when Josie remembered the necklace that still hung around Jo’s neck.
Without thinking, Josie shoved her head through the mirror. “The necklace!” Josie said as soon as she emerged into the clear air of her room. She reached out her hand.
“Oh, right.” With painful slowness, Jo removed the necklace and dropped it into Josie’s palm.
Josie pulled back through into Jo’s room and clasped the necklace on right away, then gave Jo the thumbs-up.
Suddenly a look of concern passed over Jo’s face. She grabbed a pen and paper off of Josie’s desk and scribbled something quickly, holding the note up just as the image began to blur.
“Don’t go out—” Josie read out loud, trying to decipher the letters through the rippling mirror.
But that was all she saw. The portal was closed.
NINETEEN
4:02 A.M.
“DON’T GO OUT?” JOSIE REPEATED. CRAP, WHAT had the rest of the note said? Don’t go out . . . Alone? After curfew?
Whatever. It didn’t matter. Josie spun around and assessed Jo’s room. She squinted against the light reflecting off the crisp, white walls. Yikes, why was it always so bright in there? She scanned the room, searching for the light switch, but didn’t find anything.
No light switch? That was weird. There had to be a dozen recessed lights in the ceiling, illuminating every inch of the bedroom. How could there not be a switch to turn them off?
Maybe it was one of those electronic remote-control systems. Fancy. She wished Jo had mentioned it, but whatever. It wasn’t like she was going to get much sleep in the next twenty-four hours anyway.
Twenty-four hours. For an entire day this was all hers. The room, the life, the boyfriend. Josie’s eyes drifted to Jo’s closet. And the clothes!
Josie knew it was shallow, but it was like living a Cinderella makeover scene in a movie when Josie threw open Jo’s closet, exposing the largest wardrobe she’d ever seen. Meticulously organized: shirts, blouses, jackets, skirts, pants, dresses—each arranged by color from left to right.
The shelves above had been custom built as shallow cubbyholes, each holding a single pair of shoes. Heels, sandals, flats, boots—they were all separated by type and color. Well, that was certainly something she and Jo did not have in common: no one would ever accuse Josie of being OCD. Hell, maybe Jo would organize her room while she was there? Bonus!
Josie started to flip through hangers. She had to find the perfect outfit for today. Something that would be very “Jo.”
One hour and a dozen outfit changes later, Josie settled on the perfect look. A wispy baby-doll dress in a lemon-yellow floral print. It was romantic, whimsical, and brought out the light gold of Josie’s hair in a way none of her dark T-shirts ever had. She added textured ecru tights and tan ankle booties with a bow on the back, and spun around in the mirror.
Perfect.
It was almost five o’clock by the time Josie carefully laid the yellow dress on the back of Jo’s boudoir chair and finished hanging up the rest of the discarded outfits. She hadn’t slept in almost two days and the intensity of the overhead lighting was starting to give her a dull headache. A fruitless search for some kind of media remote only uncovered a half dozen sleep masks in Jo’s nightstand. Crap. She didn’t want to sleep, per se, but she at least wanted to close her eyes for half an hour before she had to head downstairs and start her masquerade.
Oh well; at least she had a sleep mask. That would black out the incessant lights. Josie sat down on the edge of Jo’s bed and pulled the largest mask out of the nightstand drawer.
That’s when she saw it.
Movement in the window.
Josie stared into the darkness of what would have been the backyard at Josie’s house. Inky, impenetrable darkness. The lights from the room made no inroad into the blackness of the night. It was as if the dark swallowed up the light. A black hole from which nothing escaped.
Yet as Josie stared out into the void, she saw it again: an image flashed in the window.
It was just a split second, like a snippet of a film strip that appeared from nowhere and disappeared into the darkness, but Josie was staring right at it this time. She could see the color—brown with traces of black and gray—and the outline of a head with a long beak framed in the window.
Then a shriek tore through the silence. A cross between a bird and grinding metal, the scream was like nails on a chalkboard and it set all the hairs on the back of Josie’s neck standing straight up. Though unnerving, it was not unfamiliar. She’d heard that sound before, in the dead of night back home.
The shrill cry faded as whatever made it disappeared into the night. A bird, most likely. Like the owl Josie thought she saw in the kitchen window the night her mom had the horrible nightmare. Harmless and normal, Josie told herself.
Weird that she didn’t see it clearly as it sailed past her window. Just that single flash of a beak, so instantaneous if she hadn’t been looking right at it, she would have thought it was a trick of the light. Surely the glow from her window would have illuminated the entire bird?
Why are you stressing about this? Josie had enough to worry about that day. It was just a bird. Nothing out of the ordinary. Get some sleep.
But she still pulled the blinds closed before she crawled into bed.
TWENTY
6:01 A.M.
A MELODY INVADED JOSIE’S SLEEP. IT WASN’T familiar, just a soft fragment of song that was getting louder and louder by the second. Ugh. Where was she?
Josie opened her eyes, and found nothing but darkness. Panic gripped her. Was she blind? She reached her hands up to her face and felt the silken mask over her eyes.
Right. Jo’s sleep mask. Jo’s alarm. Jo’s life.
She pushed the mask up to her forehead and was instantly blinded by the harsh overhead lights. With her eyes pinched closed, she reached out a hand and flailed around for the alarm until she inadvertently slapped the right button to silence its annoying tune.
Well, that’s one way to wake up in the morning.
It took several minutes for Josie’s eyes to adjust to the brightness, but eventually she was able to pry her lids open and roll out of bed. Dawn was just breaking; early rays of light peeked into the room through the slats in the blinds, duller than the artificial illumination overhead, but comforting somehow. Josie tiptoed over and pulled the blinds open.
The first blush of sunrise tinged the sky, promising a bright, cheerful spring morning. Unlike in her house, Jo’s bedroom was on the second floor. Josie gazed down onto manicured hedges and painstakingly maintained rosebushes, a far cry from the overgrown, gopher-infested mess that Josie’s bedroom looked out upon.
Josie yawned. She was tired, excited, and nervous for how the day would unfold. Could this charade actually work, or was she going to get called out as an impostor exactly thirty seconds into breakfast?
Calm down. She could do this. As long as she looked like Jo, no one was going to question if she didn’t exactly act like Jo.
After shower, hair, and makeup, Josie donned the outfit she’d chosen and looked at herself in the old mirror. She’d tried to do her hair as much like Jo’s as she could—parted on the left and tucked behind one ear—and she hoped the effect was close enough. Same with the makeup. Jo’s medicine cabinet looked like a Sephora display case. Josie tried to remember Jo’s face and applied foundation, blush, eye shadow, liner, mascara, and gloss accordingly.
It was more effort than Josie had put into her appearance in weeks, but as she admired the effect in the mirror, she smiled. She looked like Jo.
Josie studied Jo’s cheat sheet, then turned back to the mirror. She looked like Jo; she could act like Jo. No one would know the difference, especially not Nick.
Time to find out.
6:30 A.M.
“Good morning, Miss Josephine.”
A short, wiry woman with jet-black hair and thick, old-fashioned glasses was placing a thermos carafe on
the table as Josie entered the dining room. According to her cheat sheet this was Teresa, the Byrnes’ housekeeper. Teresa saw Jo every single day and didn’t hesitate in greeting Josie as “Miss Josephine.” This was going to be easier than she thought.
“Good morning,” Josie said, hoping the fluttering in her stomach didn’t make its way into her voice.
Teresa didn’t look up but continued setting the table for breakfast. Two place settings. Only two.
“Why are there only two plates?” Josie asked. Did Jo not eat with her parents? That wasn’t in the cheat sheet.
Teresa tilted her head to the side. “I’m sorry, Miss Josephine?”
Crap. From Teresa’s reaction, Josie was clearly supposed to know why there were only two places set for breakfast. One of Jo’s parents must be away from home, or maybe went to work earlier. Or maybe just didn’t eat breakfast? Ugh, she had no idea.
Josie forced a laugh. “Sorry,” she said lightly. “I . . . I forgot.”
Teresa lifted an eyebrow—an almost imperceptible millimeter—then turned and walked out of the room without another word.
Josie sat down at the table and bit her lip. Hopefully she hadn’t just blown everything with her misstep. Her hand shook as she reached for the carafe and poured herself a cup of coffee. She needed to get a grip. She was fine. No one was going to assume she was an impostor, especially not based on one—
“What are you doing?”
Josie looked up from the table and saw a man standing in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame. She knew the face: the pale blue eyes, tanned skin, and streaked blond hair so like her own. It was her dad.
Only not quite. They had the same boyishness about them—a crinkle at the corner of each eye from excessive smiling, a softness about the mouth—but Jo’s dad was a slightly more put-together version of her own. Slicked-back hair, designer suit, and carrying a tablet in one hand, this Mr. Byrne looked significantly more professional.
He stared at her for a moment; those piercing blue eyes examined every inch of her, face, dress, finally the hair. All the warmth drained out of Josie as Mr. Byrne’s eyes lingered on her newly dyed locks. Dammit, she was going to get caught. He knew she wasn’t Jo. How stupid had they been, thinking they could fool their respective parents? Panic swept over her. How was she going to explain this?
Josie was debating whether or not to make a run for it, when a smile spread across Mr. Byrne’s face. “I’m just teasing you, princess. Don’t look so serious.”
Josie let out a breath. So Jo’s dad was a trickster. Ha. Ha-ha. So funny. “Sorry,” she said. “I guess I’m just tired.”
“I’d say.” He strode across the room and sat down at one of the place settings. “You looked as if you’d seen a ghost or something.”
Teresa reappeared as if by magic and scurried to Mr. Byrne’s side. She loaded his plate with scrambled egg whites and toast, then poured him a cup of coffee and whooshed out again without a word.
Josie smiled, but her eyes drifted toward the door, hoping someone else was going to make an entrance. Where was Jo’s mom?
“Is everything okay?” Mr. Byrne asked.
She hesitated. “I was just . . .” Crap, what should she say? Jo must have left something out. Maybe her mom was traveling for work? She was supposed to know that.
“I know,” he said softly. “I miss her too.”
Right. Jo’s mom wasn’t there. Phew. Would it have been so hard to mention that, Jo?
With renewed confidence, Josie helped herself to a piece of toast. Her stomach was in knots and she prayed the sustenance would calm her nerves.
Mr. Byrne ate in silence, fingering his tablet on the table next to his plate. Josie didn’t say a word. This seemed to be their normal morning routine, and she didn’t want to do anything out of the ordinary.
“Are you going to see Nick after school today?”
“I think so,” Josie said.
“Good. I like that boy, despite what happened.”
What happened?
“And it was nice of him to return the necklace to you.”
Return the necklace?
Mr. Byrne shoved the last morsel of toast into his mouth and drained his coffee. “Remind him about my offer, will you? Could really use a boy like that around the office. A government job right out of high school is an excellent opportunity, even if he has to work a few years at the Grid before he could transition into my department.”
Josie’s head was spinning as Mr. Byrne stood up and walked around to her side of the table. Something happened? What was the Grid? And Nick returned the necklace? Josie thought it had been a gift from boyfriend to girlfriend, just like the one Nick had given Madison. What was Jo’s dad talking about?
“Have a fantastic day, princess.” Mr. Byrne planted a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll be home late, so don’t wait up.”
TWENTY-ONE
7:15 A.M.
JOSIE’S MIND WAS A BLUR BY THE TIME SHE CLUMSILY grouped together what she assumed were her school things and closed the door to Jo’s room behind her. She was missing a piece of the puzzle. Had Jo not told her something? Or was she blowing Mr. Byrne’s comments completely out of proportion?
Stop trying to figure it out, Josie told herself. She was just a visitor and would be back in her own miserable life before she knew it. So what if Jo’s mom was away on business? At least Josie got to spend some family time with Mr. Byrne, who was sweet and attentive and not a heartbroken mess dating a former prom queen half his age. Besides, the most important part of her day was still ahead: Nick.
Josie slipped Jo’s cheat sheet out of her satchel as she headed downstairs. “Car’s in the garage off the laundry room behind the kitchen.” Got it. She took a right into the kitchen and tried to look easy and casual as she passed Teresa. The housekeeper stood at the sink meticulously washing the breakfast dishes. She didn’t look up as Josie walked by.
As in every other part of the house, bright lights flooded the Byrnes’ garage, glistening off the chrome fixtures. But Josie barely noticed the flood of lights. Her eyes were locked on the sleek black car before her.
The two-door BMW coupe looked as if it had just come off the showroom floor. Gleaming black with enormous performance wheels and a smoky glass moonroof, it looked like something James Bond would drive. She climbed into the leather driver’s seat and sat there, afraid to touch anything. While her old Focus had exactly two buttons on the dashboard—air-conditioning and hazard lights—Jo’s car was like the command center on a nuclear submarine. With a tentative finger, she engaged the push-button ignition. Instantly, the car came to life as the mirrors, steering wheel, and seat all moved into the perfect position for Josie’s frame. The in-dash navigation screen welcomed “Josephine” with a personal greeting, and a series of flashing lights and beeps told her that everything had been checked and rechecked, and they were ready for launch. Er, for her drive to school. Same thing.
Josie almost felt sorry for Jo, who’d have to limp through suburban Bowie in the shuddering, temperamental disaster that was the Teal Monster. She probably should have warned Jo about that tricky ignition.
Oops.
It took her a few tries to find the visor button that opened the garage door; then with a deep breath and the school’s address programmed into her GPS, Josie eased the car down the driveway.
“Turn left ahead,” the car’s mellifluous computer voice told her at the end of the driveway. Just like home, Josie turned left on Round Tree Lane. The houses looked similar on the treelined street. But also different, like everything else about Jo’s world. There were a lot of brand-spanking-new McMansions, as well as totally remodeled older houses like the one Jo lived in. Originally a small craftsman like Josie’s house, one here had been transformed into a modern two-story home complete with attached three-car garage.
Then there were the massive streetlights in front of every house in the neighborhood. Every single house. In addition, most had floodli
ghts mounted on their exteriors—above the front door and the garage. Apparently, everyone was paranoid about not having enough light.
Despite the fact that this neighborhood was significantly more upscale than the one in which Josie lived, there were several houses that looked completely abandoned. Windows boarded up, lawns overgrown and gone to seed. A few even had collapsed roofs. And each abandoned house had a large sign staked into the lawn: NO GRID ACCESS.
Josie wondered what that was all about.
While Jo’s neighborhood may have seemed strange, Bowie Prep, on the other hand, was relatively familiar. Same imposing brick façade, same smattering of kids scurrying to and fro. The parking lot was packed by the time she got there, except for one spot right near the front. It didn’t seem to be handicapped or reserved. Someone must have just left. Finally, something was going Josie’s way.
For the first time since she walked through the mirror, Josie felt at home. Bowie Prep in Jo’s world looked a whole hell of a lot like Bowie Prep in Josie’s, except cleaner and brighter. Still, things were in the same places—the entry hall, school office, courtyard all right where Josie would have expected them. Even her locker, number 441, was in the same place as Josie’s number 441. Everything was the same.
Except one thing. Here, people noticed her.
“Hi, Jo!” a couple of girls said in unison as they passed her in the hallway. They looked vaguely familiar, though certainly no one Josie was friendly with back home, but she smiled in return like they were best friends. A group of guys greeted her around the next corner, then a trio of nervous underclassmen smiled at her tentatively as she stopped at her locker. It was like she was school royalty or something. Everyone knew Jo Byrne, and apparently for all the right reasons, whereas back home, Josie was just known as the sap who got “Byrned” while her boyfriend and best friend got it on behind her back.
Josie checked her cheat sheet for Jo’s locker combination. 35-12-8. Exactly the same as her own. It was amazing the things that were the same.
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