3:59 (9 page)

Sincerely
,

Josie must have reread the note a dozen times.
Josephine Byrne.
Same name. Same high school. Same year. Same girl.

The same girl but different. Of that Josie was convinced. Jo still had Nick, while Josie had lost him. She wondered what else Jo had: Were her parents happily married? Was she popular at school? Were they rich? Was she interested in science and math like Josie?

So many questions Josie was desperate to learn the answers to, the most important of which was why this was happening to them in the first place. Maybe together, she and Jo could make sense of what was going on? There was only one way to find out.

It was time she and Jo had a talk. Face-to-face.

JOSIE WAS WIDE AWAKE, STANDING IN FRONT OF the mirror at the exact moment its surface undulated like the ebbing tide, opening the door between her world and Jo’s. There wasn’t any note gripped in her hand. This time, she planned to answer Jo’s letter in person.

She hadn’t slept at all that night. Not that she really needed to on a Friday night, but she’d tried nonetheless, setting her alarm for 3:30 again, just in case she drifted off, but the adrenaline that coursed through her body made her antsy and impatient, and as the minutes slowly crept toward the awaited hour, Josie actually got less tired, more alert, more eager to see what would happen.

But as the rippling waters of the mirror gave way to the room on the other side, Josie’s heart sank. Empty. No Jo.

Two things were immediately apparent, though. First, even though all the overhead lights were on, the late afternoon sun streamed through the open windows on the west side of Jo’s room. 3:59, but the wrong 3:59. Where Josie’s timeline put her in the wee hours of the morning, eastern Maryland still swathed in a heavy blanket of darkness, in Jo’s world, it was the afternoon. Their universes were twelve hours apart.

No wonder Josie’s dreams had always taken place at the end of Jo’s school day. No wonder Jo had been wearing her pajamas earlier that afternoon. And when she saw Jo sleeping with all the lights on, wearing a sleep mask, it must have been the middle of the night. Kind of weird that she slept with the lights on, but whatever.

Josie continued to stare into Jo’s room, Jo’s world. The space was the same: the room, the dimensions, the window and closet and bed all in the same exact place. But Jo’s room was clearly that of a wealthier girl. Instead of Josie’s mismatched bedroom furniture of hand-me-downs, roadside pickups, and craigslist purchases, Jo’s room had been decorated. The bed frame was brushed chrome, low to the ground, and piled with a giant pillow-top mattress, a far cry from Josie’s rickety wooden four-poster—missing a post and propped up at one corner by an old footstool. Jo’s dresser and bookcases were arranged with an almost meticulous precision. Where Josie’s bookcases looked as if someone had dumped their contents on the floor, then quickly shoved them back on the shelves, the books on Jo’s were neatly lined up, spines out, grouped by size. Perfume bottles stood sharply at attention, again in height order, and an array of silver jewelry stands flanked the dresser, each holding a specific bounty: earrings, bracelets, necklaces.

The entire room sparkled and gleamed under the harsh recessed lighting, like an ultrasleek hotel room that had just been visited by the housekeeping crew. Josie found it hard to believe that anyone lived in such a clean, controlled environment, let alone a sixteen-year-old high-school student. They looked so much alike, but clearly, she and Jo were very, very different.

Josie leaned closer to the mirror, trying to get a glimpse of the door to Jo’s room and perhaps down the hallway of her house. Forgetting that the glass pane of the mirror had dematerialized, Josie’s head went right through into the thick goo of the portal.

“Shit,” Josie said out loud, but her voice was muffled and distorted. She lost her balance, stumbled forward trying to right herself, and tripped on the bottom edge of the mirror’s frame, which sent her flailing through the mirror into Jo’s room.

She fell in slow motion through the portal, right up until the moment she broke the plane into Jo’s room. Then her momentum sped up and her shoulder slammed into plush carpet, momentarily sucking the breath out of her lungs. She squinted her eyes closed against the full force of the electric lighting as she sat up, rubbing the arm that had broken her fall. Through the mirror she could see her room: dimly lit by her bedside lamp, her cluttered belongings looked so little-girlish in comparison to Jo’s sophisticated décor. It was a whole different world.

Universe, more exactly. She was in a parallel universe, the existence of which science had been trying to prove for decades.

And which Josie had proven in one clumsy moment. Awesome.

Josie’s eyes rested on Jo’s desk, where a pen and paper stood neatly lined up beside a framed, smiley photo of Jo and her parents. Perfect. Jo might not have been there, but Josie could prove that she had been.

She dashed across the room and wrote a quick note.

Josie smiled, hoping the note wouldn’t freak Jo out too much. That’s when she saw it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the image in the mirror distort as the surface began to ripple. The image of her own bedroom came in and out of focus. The portal was starting to close.

Josie threw herself toward the mirror. As she passed through, she could almost feel the mirror beginning to solidify. The gooey interior felt more like hardening concrete. Her bedroom was pulling away from her, racing down a long hallway. Josie pumped her legs, desperately trying to step into her own world before the portal closed for good. Instead of the split second it had taken her to fall through into Jo’s room, Josie felt as if she’d been in the portal forever. What happened if it closed before she reached her room? Where would she be?

The weight of the portal grew heavier and denser, and for one sick moment Josie felt as if the space around her was going to crush the life from her body. Her lungs burned, and Josie gasped for air. She could still see her room, distant, dark. She had to get there. Had to. With all the strength left in her, Josie leaped forward, arms outstretched, desperate to catch hold of the mirror’s frame. It seemed too far away. Too far to reach. Her eyes closed; her mind went blank.

Then her hand felt the edge of the frame. She clawed at it and pulled her body through. As soon as she rolled onto the hardwood floor of her bedroom, her lungs worked and Josie gulped in huge mouthfuls of air.

She glanced back and saw her own reflection in the mirror. She’d just made it.

Josie stood up, her back creaking in protest. She’d fallen through the mirror. She’d been to the other side, and she’d almost gotten trapped there. Passing back through the mirror, just at the moment the portal started to close, reminded her of the theoretical descriptions of passing the event horizon into a black hole. Time elongated. Physical matter stretched. And your body felt like it was being pulled apart.

Still, she’d done it. She’d been to the other side.

Jo’s room had been so clean, so rich. The photo on Jo’s bureau showed a happy family, not one ripped apart by divorce. Then Josie thought of Nick, Jo’s Nick. Nick, who met Jo for picnics in the park. Nick, who gave Jo a necklace of two entwined hearts. In Jo’s world, Nick still loved her. In Jo’s world, Josie could make up for what happened between herself and Nick. . . .

Josie stared at the mirror, which currently reflected just the cluttered, spastic mess that was her room. But there, just on the other side, was a place where all of Josie’s woes didn’t exist.

All she had to do was walk through the mirror.

JO WAS IN THE MIRROR AS THE IMAGE DISSOLVED from Josie’s jean shorts and tank top to Jo’s satin pajamas. This time, Josie didn’t waste a second. She took a deep breath and plunged into the portal.

“Oh my God,” Jo said as Josie’s feet landed on the soft carpet of her room. “You came through.”

“I know,” Josie said, somewhat breathlessly. “Cool, huh?”

“Um, yeah.” Jo sounded like
cool
wasn’t quite the adjective she’d use.

They stared blankly for a moment, each examining the other. Josie knew what Jo saw. Her dirty blond hair was a tangled mess and her face was devoid of makeup, typical Saturday fashion for someone with no place to go. Meanwhile Jo’s bright blond tresses fell on either side of her face in perfect spirals that cascaded over her shoulders, even though it was the middle of the night.

“So we’re the same person or something,” Jo blurted out. “Is that it?”

“Kind of,” Josie said. She wasn’t sure she wanted to get into a long discussion of theoretical quantum theory if she only had a minute until the portal closed.

“I don’t know why, but it scares me,” Jo said.

“Maybe because it makes absolutely no sense?”

“Yeah, I mean, look at us.” Jo spoke quickly. “Except for the hair, we could be—”

“Twins,” Josie said, finishing the thought. “Right?”

Jo didn’t answer. Instead, her eyes were fixed on the other side of the mirror. Josie turned around and followed Jo’s line of sight to a photo on her dresser. A photo of Josie and her mom.

“Is . . . is that your mom?” Jo asked.

“Yeah.” Jo seemed transfixed by the photo. “It was from a banquet at the lab where she works. Some kind of awards thing.”

Jo continued to stare. “When was it taken?”

“Last month.”

“Are you guys close?” Jo asked. “You and your mom?”

Josie shrugged. She wasn’t sure how much she wanted to reveal. “We used to be. But for the last six months or so, things have been a little . . . strained.”

Jo turned her head sharply. “Six months? That’s . . . a long time.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Jo reached her hand out toward the photo, pausing at the cusp of the mirror’s frame. She hesitated, then let her hand fall to her side.

Josie smiled. “It’s okay, you know. You can go through. Kinda feels like you’re swimming through a pool of Jell-O, but it only lasts a second.”

Josie’s heart raced as she watched Jo stare at the photo of her and her mom. She was secretly hoping that Jo would go through into her room and see that it wasn’t such a big deal. Maybe she’d kind of like it over there. Maybe she’d consider switching places with Josie, you know, just for a day. Maybe . . .

Her eyes involuntarily darted to Jo’s necklace. Two entwined hearts. Jo and Nick.
Josie
and Nick.

“That necklace,” Josie said. “Is it from your boyfriend?” Josie couldn’t help herself. She had to know if what she’d seen in the dreams was real.

Jo’s gaze slowly turned to Josie. “My boyfriend?”

“Yeah.” Josie pointed to the necklace. “Was that a gift from him?”

“Yes,” Jo said at last. “It’s from my boyfriend.”

Josie smiled. “It’s beautiful.”

Jo turned back to the mirror. “Do you want to switch places?” she blurted out.

Josie face lit up. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“Twinsies.” Jo laughed. “Tomorrow. Let’s do it tomorrow night.” She looked back into the mirror. “Well, night for me.”

“Sounds perfect.” Josie was having a hard time keeping the excitement out of her voice. “For twenty-four hours?”

Jo smiled. “Yeah, that’ll be enough.”

Yes, it would. Enough time to see Jo’s parents happy and together. And enough time to set things right with Nick.

“Deal.”

The image in the mirror began to ripple. “Shit!” Josie bolted for the portal. “Gotta go.”

“Wait.” Jo grabbed Josie’s arm as she started to duck through the mirror. “Your hair. Do you think you can dye it to match?”

Josie had never dyed her hair before, but this was one hell of a perfect opportunity to try. “Will do.”

Jo smiled. “See you tomorrow.”

JOSIE GRABBED A HAND TOWEL OFF THE RACK and wiped a hole in the steamed-up bathroom mirror just big enough to see her reflection. Her hair was turbaned up in a blue bath towel, still hidden from view. A discarded bottle of hair dye and plastic gloves were shoved in the garbage can, next to a cardboard box that showcased flowing golden tresses that looked as much like Jo’s as Josie could remember.

Picking a color out of the bazillions of choices at CVS had been a challenge. Candle Glow or Desert Flower? Medium Ash Blond, Medium Champagne Blond, Medium Golden Blond. They all just looked blond to Josie, and in the end, she tried to pick the one that looked the most like Jo’s professionally colored and highlighted hair. Golden Sunset may have sounded like a bad chick flick, but as a hair dye, Josie hoped it would give her dirty blond hair the bright, shimmery look she was after.

It had to be right. Had to. In just a few hours she’d be going through the mirror.

Josie took a deep breath. Moment of truth.

She bent over and untwisted the towel, then whipped her head back and checked out her new look in the mirror.

Even though her hair was still wet, Josie could see the change immediately. The golden color shimmered in the harsh bathroom light. Her face seemed brighter and more alive. She ran her fingers through her hair, all soft and satiny. No mistaking it now; she was definitely a blonde.

Picking out hair dye might have been complicated, but mimicking Jo’s bouncy ’do was going to be a whole other shit show. Josie’s styling routine consisted of brushing out her wet hair before bed, then hoping that when she woke up it hadn’t dried with some bizarre cowlicks that made her look like Alfalfa’s big sister. Which it usually did—thus Josie’s wide array of headbands and ponytail holders.