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.”
TWENTY-SIX
3:45 P.M.
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?”