3:59

TWENTY-FIVE

6:55 A.M.

JOSIE DIDN’T REALIZE SHE’D FALLEN ASLEEP until a knock at the door woke her up.

“Are you awake?”

Josie rolled over in bed. Her eyes were closed, but it was still dark in her room.

She stretched her arms over her head. It had all been a dream—a horrible, wretched nightmare. She was at home in her bed and her mom was waking her up so she wouldn’t be late for school. Another normal day.

Thank God.

“Miss Josephine, you’re going to be late.”

Miss Josephine? Josie’s eyes flew open and she realized she was wearing a sleep mask. Jo’s sleep mask.

She was still in the nightmare.

“Miss Josephine?” Teresa cracked the bedroom door. There was a pause, then she heard Teresa take a sharp breath. “Miss Josephine, your arms. Are you okay? What happened? If your father finds—” Panic rose in her voice as each thought crossed her mind.

Josie wiggled her arms beneath the covers so Teresa couldn’t see the full extent of her wounds. “I’m not feeling well, so I’m not going to school.”

“But what shall I tell your father?”

Josie rolled over, turning her back on Teresa. “Just tell him I’m sick.” She didn’t care what Teresa thought; there was no way in hell she was going to school today. She needed to figure out a way home.

“Oh.” Teresa lingered at the door for a moment, then Josie heard her slowly close it. “Of course, Miss Josephine.”

Josie rolled onto her back and stared around Jo’s room.

Your room.

Josie shook her head, forcing the thought from her mind. She was not going to be stuck here. She’d figure out a way home. Somehow.

What if she couldn’t? She hadn’t told anyone back home about Jo and the mirror. So far, she’d been able to snowjob everyone in Jo’s world into believing that she was their daughter, classmate, whatever. Wouldn’t Jo be able to do the same thing in Josie’s world? Her mom had been so weird lately, so distant and distracted by work; would she even notice there was something different about her daughter? Would anyone?

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.

2:15 P.M.

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.

Creak.

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.”