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Maybe her dad. Then again, he’d been so wrapped up in the divorce, he might attribute his daughter’s weirdness to that.

There was no one else. No one who’d notice. And no one who’d miss her even if they did.

Hell, maybe people would like Jo better.

Josie swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. She paced the room aimlessly, her mind racing. Nick had made it clear that Jo had been after him for quite some time, to no effect. But there was another Nick. Maybe Jo would want to try with him?

And if she succeeded, she’d never want to go home.

What if Josie was stuck here? Other than Jo’s father, who seemed to care for her in a kind of jovial, fatherly way, what was here for her? Josie slumped down in Jo’s leather desk chair. For the first time, she prayed Madison and Nick’s romance was solid and long-lasting. The only way Josie was getting home was if Jo wanted to switch back.

She sat there for what felt like hours, gently swinging back and forth in Jo’s swivel chair. What was she going to do?

After a while, Josie realized her eyes had rested on an object on Jo’s bookshelf. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been staring at it, but suddenly, recognition dawned.

She was staring at her vase. The wine-bottle vase covered in magazine squares that she’d made in fifth-grade art class.

Josie sprang to her feet and snatched the vase off the shelf. She knew instantly that it was hers.
So that’s what happened to it.
Her vase and Jo’s vase had switched.

But how?

Josie let the vase fall back onto the shelf with a clunk. It hadn’t come through the mirror with her—of that she was pretty sure. She’d have noticed a flying inanimate object. And yet here it was, as real and solid as anything else around her, which meant the connection between their worlds extended beyond the physical confines of the mirror.

And if the vases could move back and forth between the worlds without the portal, maybe she could too?

A list of things that had randomly gone missing flooded Josie’s brain. Her pink tweed Converse, Mr. Fugly Bear. Things she’d looked for and couldn’t find over the last week, since the mirror landed in her bedroom.

Were they here? In this house?

Josie took a deep breath. There was only one way to find out.

Josie waited impatiently all day, but at two o’clock Teresa went out to run errands. Finally. Josie needed to spend some time perving around the house, and she much preferred to do it unobserved.

She’d spent most of the day making a list of things to look for, things that had gone missing or at least seemed odd or out of place in her house since the day at the railroad crossing. The vase, her shoes, and Mr. Fugly Bear were obvious—they were objects Josie had actively missed—but as she thought back on the last week, she realized that the leapfrogging of items between the two worlds went deeper. Incidents that seemed a mere annoyance at the time suddenly had more meaning.

Like the Tinkerbell magnet on the fridge. Josie had come home from school last week and found several pizza-delivery coupons scattered on the kitchen floor. They’d been pinned to the refrigerator door by a large Tinkerbell magnet Josie had bought on a family vacation to Disney World. She’d gathered up the coupons and found another magnet to hold them in place without really thinking about what had happened to poor Tink.

Now she knew.

And those were just the things she’d noticed. Maybe there were more objects zapped into Jo’s world and vice versa? And if they could be, why couldn’t Josie?

She’d already done a full sweep of Jo’s room and bathroom, but other than the vase, she hadn’t found any of the missing objects. She decided to start downstairs in the kitchen, the most logical place to find a refrigerator magnet.

The sleek stainless steel refrigerator was devoid of decoration: no magnets or family photos or pizza-delivery coupons in sight. Similarly, the kitchen counters were empty, just squeaky-clean granite countertops polished to within an inch of their lives. Teresa took her job very seriously.

Josie checked the pantry as a matter of course. Its contents were similar to the one in her own kitchen—it even had the same black canister set, all uniform and lined up in rows three deep on a shelf—but no kitchen magnets or anything else that reminded her specifically of home.

Josie was starting to despair when the living room, laundry room, and formal dining room all turned up empty. Was she wrong? Was the vase just a fluke?

There were three bedrooms upstairs. Jo’s room she’d already gone over with a fine-tooth comb, so she tackled Jo’s parents’ room next. Large and luxuriously decorated, it looked more like a hotel suite than a master bedroom. The enormous king-size bed sat on a raised step on the far side of the room, flanked on either side by floor-to-ceiling windows. There was not one but two walk-in closets—his and hers—which were each about as large as Josie’s bedroom back home. Not to mention the bathroom complete with sauna, whirlpool bathtub, and a glass-enclosed shower that could accommodate an entire basketball team. If Josie had a bathroom like that, she might never leave.

Searching a room that size was no easy task. But surely one of the objects on Josie’s list must be there. In one of the closets, in a drawer, in the ridiculously large bathroom? Yeah, no. After an hour, Josie gave up in defeat.

One more place to check. The guest room.

Situated on the same side of the house as Jo’s room, the guest bedroom was oddly sparse. Bed, nightstand. That was it. Not even a dresser, just a small closet on the far wall. Oh well, at least it would be easy to search.

The nightstand was empty, as was the space under the bed. But when Josie yanked open the closet door, she gasped.

On the floor in the middle of the closet was a box filled with a variety of miscellaneous objects. Sitting right on top was Mr. Fugly Bear.

Josie crouched down and lifted Mr. Fugly out of the box. Yep, definitely him. Missing an ear and a thumb. Her favorite childhood toy, here in a closet in Jo’s house.

Josie froze.
What was that?
She waited, crouched in the closet, and held her breath. After what felt like forever, Josie slowly exhaled. Just the house settling. If Teresa or Mr. Byrne were home, she’d have heard them come in. She was being paranoid.

Shaking off her fears, Josie hauled the box out of the closet. In the bright lights of the unused room, she could see another familiar object: a pair of pink tweed Converse. Then another and another. A bottle of her mom’s favorite perfume. A Christmas card from Josie’s cousins in Ireland. A book of tapas recipes from her mom’s international-cooking phase. And a magnet shaped like the pixie from
Peter Pan
.

All of them here. All of them gathered and put in a box and shoved in this closet out of sight. They’d been put here deliberately. Josie shook her head. It must have been Jo. The vase might have gone unnoticed since it was so similar to the one that appeared in Josie’s room, but a pair of pink Converse sneakers would have been a shock for Jo to find in her closet. Had Jo realized what they were and what they meant? Had she hidden them?

And more important, how did they get here in the first place?

Josie had no idea, but the key to getting home seemed to lie in figuring out the Mystery of the Missing Converse. She laughed lightly to herself. Best Nancy Drew title ever.

Okay, think.
She leaned back against the bed. Regardless, these items had switched places with a counterpart on the other side, like Jo and Josie, only the objects were zapped at random. Josie hadn’t seen these items moving through the mirror when it was open, so how did they get there?

Josie caught her breath. Maybe there was another portal?

Josie leaped to her feet. That had to be it! Another portal. Another rift between the two worlds.

Josie picked up the box and headed back to Jo’s room. It didn’t matter how or why, only that another portal existed. She just had to find it. Or create another one. Whatever it took to get home.

“I will,” she said out loud as she gripped the handle to Jo’s bedroom door. She felt hopeful again. Buoyant. “I’ll get home if it kills me.”

But as she threw open the bedroom door, Josie’s stomach dropped. Her skin went cold, and her newfound sense of hope drained away.

Standing in the middle of the room, with a gun leveled at her, was Nick.

“We need to talk.”

TWO HOURS AGO JOSIE HAD BEEN DESPERATE TO get time alone in the house. Now she would have sold her firstborn to have someone else around.

Nick’s face was very calm. His voice didn’t shake. His arm held the gun steady. There was something unnerving in the casual way he stared at her, as if holding her at gunpoint was a perfectly natural activity for a Tuesday afternoon.

“Who are you?” he asked.

A hundred thoughts raced through Josie’s mind. How did he know? And what should she tell him? Lie? Tell him the truth? Would the truth sound more like a lie than an actual lie? Better not risk it.

“What the hell are you doing?” Josie said, doing her best impression of Jo. “Is this some kind of joke?” She shuffled her feet toward the door in what she hoped was a casual manner.

“Don’t move,” Nick said. Still calm. Still devoid of emotion.

Josie wasn’t willing to give in. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Nick shrugged. “I’m the one holding the gun.”

Josie forced a laugh, desperately hoping she sounded light and airy. “Please. I can tell that thing is plastic from here.”

Nick paused, then in answer he cocked the metal barrel. Definitely not a toy. “Right,” he said. “Plastic.”

Josie swallowed hard. Apparently there was a whole hell of a lot more going on than she could even imagine. She was running out of options.

Nick motioned toward the bed. “Sit.”

“What do you want, Nick?”

“Sit down.”

She could have made a break for it. But Nick was stronger and faster, not to mention the fact that he had a gun pointed at her chest. She probably wouldn’t have made it downstairs, let alone outside, without taking a bullet in the back. And then where would she have gone? The neighbors? Could she trust anyone? Nope. Besides, who would believe her? Josie was out of moves. She dropped the box on the floor and sat down gingerly on the edge of her mattress.

“Good.” Without taking his eyes off her, Nick dragged the desk chair over to the door and sat down, blocking the only exit. “Why don’t you start by answering my question: Who are you?”

Josie laughed again. She couldn’t help it. Nick sounded like he was doing an impression of a Nazi interrogator in every old movie she’d ever seen. “Really?”

“Cut the crap,” Nick said. His voice had an edge to it now. Patience was wearing thin. “Who are you?”

“Josephine Byrne,” she said with a cheeky grin. At least she wasn’t lying.

“Bullshit.”

“Look,” Josie said with a broad smile. “Don’t you recognize me?”

Nick shot to his feet. “I’ve known Jo since we were twelve, and I can say this with one hundred percent confidence: you are not Jo Byrne.”

How did he know?

“I know her.” Nick shifted his feet uneasily. “I know her personality, the way she talks and holds herself. The way she treats people. Ever since yesterday morning at school I’ve had this weird feeling that something just wasn’t right.
You
weren’t right. Zeke and Zeb told me what happened in physics. Then last night confirmed it. Either you’ve had major head trauma and don’t actually remember who you are, or you’re one of them.” He paused and pointed the gun directly at her again. “And it’s significantly more likely you’re one of them.”

“Who?”

“Do I look like an idiot?”

“Um . . .”

“I wouldn’t put it past them to have you made up to look like Jo. Were you afraid of us? Of what we might discover? Could your secret research really be threatened by a couple of high-school students? That’s pathetic. You hear me?”

Josie was starting to worry for his sanity. “Nick, what are you talking about?”

Nick ignored her question. He stormed up to her and grabbed her roughly by the shoulder. “Where are they? What happened to them?”

“I don’t know who you’re—”

Nick’s fingers dug into the fleshy part of her neck. “WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY BROTHER?”

Josie jerked away, trying to free herself. There was something in Nick’s eyes that scared her. Desperation. Fearlessness. Whatever it was, he clearly wouldn’t have thought twice about snapping her neck if push came to shove.

“Tony?” she said.

“Is that why you brought him up at school yesterday, huh? Were you trying to see how I’d react?”

Josie tried to wriggle free. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t. Not about Dr. Byrne either.”

Josie stopped struggling. “What about Dr. Byrne?”

“Dr. Byrne?
Dr. Byrne?
” Nick pushed her down on the bed and climbed on top of her. He squeezed her throat, constricting airflow. “Jo would never call her mom that.”

Josie pawed at Nick, desperately gasping for air. She didn’t even care about the gun anymore, only prying Nick’s hand off her throat. She kicked, trying to free herself, but he straddled her legs, rendering her almost completely helpless. She could feel her face burning, all the blood trapped as Nick methodically increased the pressure around her neck. Josie couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Her lungs burned, her eyes watered, and slowly, her vision began to go dark . . .

Just then, Nick released her. Josie’s head lolled to the side as she gulped in huge mouthfuls of air. Her body felt limp and tired.

“One more time,” Nick said. He’d regained his composure. She felt cold metal pressed against her cheek. The muzzle of the gun. “Who are you?”