Meet me in the lab. Stat.

Gretchen McNeil

3:59

3:59

By

Gretchen McNeil

For my boys: John, Roy, and Wolfgang

And moving through a mirror clear

That hangs before her all the year,

Shadows of the world appear.

–from “The Lady of Shalott”

by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

ONE

P.M.

JOSIE CROUCHED BEHIND THE PHOTON LASER module and aligned it with the beam splitter at the other end of the lab table. “Once we build the vacuum dome,” she said, making a minor adjustment to the laser’s trajectory, “this should work.”

“Should?” Penelope said.

Josie glanced at her lab partner. “There’s a reason no one’s been able to prove the Penrose Interpretation.”

Penelope snorted. “Because it’s unprovable?”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Josie said, with an arch of her brow. “Would you also like to tell me why the sky is blue and the Earth is round?”

“Ha‑ha.” Penelope bumped Josie out of the way with her hip and took her place behind the laser. “I don’t know how you talked me into doing this as our science‑fair entry. What if it doesn’t work? I’ll never get into Stanford if I fail AP Physics.”

“We’re not going to fail.” Josie looked around the room at the array of textbook experiments their classmates were working on: balloons and static electricity, wave pools, concave mirrors. Total amateur hour, whereas she and Penelope were tackling Penrose’s wave‑collapse theory of quantum gravity. It was like bringing a major leaguer to a T‑ball game. “Mr. Baines grades on a curve. We’ll be fine.”

“We’d better be.” Penelope moved around the table. For the bazillionth time, she began carefully measuring out the positions of the one hundred or so mirrors they’d use in the experiment, noting their exact locations in her spiral notebook. Her straight black hair swished back and forth in front of her face as she scribbled furiously. “Are you sure you’re not just doing this as an FU to your mom?”

Josie stiffened. “Of course not.”

Penelope didn’t look up. “I don’t know. Seems like trying to prove an almost impossible theory that’s in direct conflict with the hypothesis your mom’s spent her entire career exploring is kind of a slap in the face.”

It was, of course. Josie knew it. Penelope knew it. If Josie’s mom had bothered to initiate an actual conversation with her daughter in the last six months, she’d probably know it too. But Josie wasn’t about to admit that in fourth‑period physics.

“I’m worried about the laser,” she said, changing the subject. “I’m not sure it’s strong enough.”

Penelope calmly looked up at Josie with her almond‑shaped eyes. A grin crept across her face. “We could always borrow the experimental laser your mom has up at her lab.”

“No way,” Josie said.

“Oh, come on! It’s perfect.”

Josie held firm. “We cannot use the hundred‑kilovolt X‑ray free‑electron prototype from my mom’s lab, okay? Get over it.”

Penelope wasn’t about to give up. “Maybe you could have your dad borrow it? For legitimate work purposes? And then if it just happened to end up in our demonstration the night of the science fair no one–”

“My dad moved out last weekend,” Josie interrupted in a clipped tone.

She hadn’t told anyone yet, except Nick, and only because he’d picked her up for a date ten minutes after Josie’s dad had broken the news that he’d rented an apartment in Landover.

“Oh,” Penelope said, her eyes wide. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” It wasn’t.

Penelope opened her mouth to say something, when the loudspeaker in the classroom crackled to life.

“Attention, students,” said the voice of the school secretary. “We have a special announcement .”

“What now?” Penelope groaned.

“Quiet down, everyone,” Mr. Baines said. The murmur in the classroom dulled.

Josie checked her watch. A special announcement five minutes before the end of the school day? That was weird.

“Good afternoon, this is Principal Meyers. As some of you may have heard, another body was found in the woods west of Crain Highway this afternoon .”

The classroom erupted into agitated whispers. “What?” Penelope squeaked. “Another one?”

“Like the previous incidents, the victim was killed sometime between the hours of ten o’clock in the evening and four o’clock in the morning, from an apparent animal attack .”

Josie arched an eyebrow. “Animal attack? In Bowie, Maryland?”

“Shh!” Penelope hissed.

“Therefore, students are asked to refrain from visiting the Patuxent River Watershed or other surrounding uninhabited areas after dark until the animal or . . .”

Principal Meyers paused and cleared his throat with that kind of dry, forced cough a kid makes when they’re trying to convince Mom and Dad they’re too sick to go to school.

“Until the animal,” he continued, “or other perpetrator responsible for the attacks is apprehended.”

“Other perpetrator?” Josie said. “What the hell does that mean?”

But Principal Meyers offered no response to Josie’s question. The loudspeaker popped once, twice, and fell silent.

TWO

P.M.

THE END‑OF‑DAY BELL PEALED THROUGH THE classroom, jarring everyone into action.

“Don’t forget,” Mr. Baines shouted above the commotion of screeching chairs, backpack zippers, and the almost choral musicality of thirty cell phones all being powered on at once. “Final review of your projects tomorrow. Be prepared to defend your hypotheses.”

“How can I think about my science project after that?” Penelope clutched Josie’s backpack as they slowly filed out of the room. “Other perpetrator. See? I knew the police were covering up for a serial killer.”

Josie half turned around. “Who said anything about a serial killer?”

“Sixteen dead bodies in six months, their gruesome, dismembered, and half‑eaten remains left in the woods in the dead of night?” Penelope almost sounded excited as she described the murder scenes. “Please, this is classic serial‑killer territory.”

Josie laughed. “Okay, CSI.”

“Fine, don’t believe me.” Penelope trotted alongside her in the crowded hallway. “But it fits. The pattern, the escalation. And now we’ve had two murders in the last week alone.” She paused and dropped her voice. “I’m sure this animal‑attack crap is just a cover‑up so the population won’t panic and descend into martial law.”

Ah, that was the Penelope Josie had known for years. The lovable conspiracy theorist who spent most of her free time combing antigovernment blogs and with each passing day became increasingly convinced that Big Brother was watching her. “Pen, you’re blowing this way out of proportion.”

“No, I’m not,” Penelope said, sounding hurt. “I never blow anything out of proportion.”

Josie planted her hands on her hips. “Remember that time you were convinced your eighty‑year‑old neighbor was a spy for the Venezuelan government? Or what about when you almost electrocuted yourself trying to find the hidden listening devices the NSA had installed in the walls of your house?”

Penelope pursed her lips. “Still no proof I was wrong about either, thank you very much.”

“Hey!” a familiar voice called out through the postclass crush of bodies. Josie spun around and caught her breath as she spied the tall, black‑haired figure of her boyfriend, Nick Fiorino, threading his way through the crowd.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Nick said, planting a kiss on Josie’s cheek. “Miss me?”

Nick pulled her close and Josie let out an audible sigh. Out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she saw Penelope grimace.

“Can you believe they found another body?” Nick shook his head. “How many is that now? Like a dozen?”

“Sixteen,” Penelope said quickly. “Although coverupcadet.com suggests the actual number may be more like two dozen, if you take into account the missing‑persons reports of the last six months and cross‑reference them against people known to be in the vicinity of a wooded area.” She chuckled nervously. “This is why I don’t leave the house.”

“Wow, Pen,” Nick said. “That’s, um . . .” He glanced sidelong at Josie, grasping for words.

“Insane?” Josie suggested.

“Fine, don’t believe me.” Penelope narrowed her eyes. “But we’ll see who’s insane when the feds catch the serial killer. Later.” Then she turned on her heel and marched off down the hall.

“I don’t think she likes me,” Nick half joked.

Josie smiled at him. “You know how Pen is with . . . people.”

Her friend Madison’s meticulously groomed head of curls popped up beside Nick. “Can you believe it?” she said, slightly out of breath. “Another body!”

“I know, right?” Josie said.

A look of concern passed over her best friend’s face. “Don’t take that shortcut through the woods anymore, okay, Josie? If there’s an animal out there stalking people, I don’t want you to be the next victim.”

Josie smiled. It was sweet that Madison was concerned about her. “Don’t worry,” she said lightly. “Penelope thinks it’s actually a serial killer, so it’s cool.”

Madison’s eyes grew wide. “A serial killer?”

“Let’s not go there,” Nick said.

“Anyway,” Madison said, “Josie, what are you doing after school?”

Josie sighed. “I have to drive to Landover before my shift at the Coffee Crush.”

“Landover?” Madison said.

“Yeah.” Josie dropped her eyes. “I have to go pick something up from my dad’s new place.”

“Your dad’s new place . . .” Madison’s voice trailed off as she processed Josie’s words.

Josie sucked in a breath as she felt Nick’s hand grip her shoulder. Ugh. Better to just get it all out in the open. “My dad moved out last weekend.” The words tumbled on top of one another as they raced out of her mouth. “Movers accidentally took the old mirror my mom used to keep up in her lab. She’s dispatched me to retrieve it. That’s it.”

“Oh,” Madison said. Then her eyes widened as reality dawned on her. “Oh!” She paused. “Okay, well, I’m taking my demon little sister to dance class, but I’ll be home by the time you’re off work. So call me, okay? If you need to talk?”

Josie smiled weakly. “Will do.”

Madison nodded, then turned and headed down the hall. Josie’s smile lingered as she watched Madison go. Her friend might be a bit of an airhead upon occasion, but she was also incredibly sweet and thoughtful. Two things Josie desperately needed in a best friend these days.

Nick leaned down and whispered in Josie’s ear. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Josie took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. She so didn’t want to drive all the way to her dad’s new condo by herself. The thought was so depressing. “Any chance you can ditch track practice and come with me?”

“Sorry, gorgeous,” Nick said with a shake of his head. “Regionals are in two weeks. Coach would kill me if I miss practice.”

Josie tried to hide her disappointment. “Oh.”

“Walk me to the gym, though?”

Josie nodded absently. “Yeah, okay.”

They navigated the halls in silence, Josie wrapped up in her thoughts. Her parents’ separation had hit hard. One day they seemed like their normal, happy selves, but practically overnight things had changed. Small fights at first, then before Josie knew it, her parents’ nightly screaming matches were the new normal around the Byrne household. In less than six months, her dad had moved out. Now Josie’s home life was a hot mess. Her dad was still in shock and, like a lovesick teen, spent most of his time trying to get Josie’s mom to take him back. Her mom had thrown herself into her work, going so far as to have a home lab constructed in their basement to avoid charges of child abandonment while she worked twenty‑four‑seven on her new experiment. Meanwhile, Josie could count on one hand the number of conversations they’d had in the last week that weren’t about work or–

“Did you hear me?”

Josie’s head snapped up. She and Nick were standing in front of the entrance to the boys’ locker room. His hands were folded across his chest, and his dark brows were pinched together.

“Huh?”

Nick sighed. “Josie, were you even listening to me?”

“I’m sorry,” Josie said. “I was just . . . I don’t know. Lost.”

“You’ve been like that a lot lately,” he said quietly. “Between your parents and your science project, it’s like you don’t have time for anything else.” It wasn’t an accusation so much as a statement of fact. “Do you even remember what today is?”

Josie caught her breath. Was it Nick’s birthday? Had she forgotten Nick’s birthday? No, that was in October. Josie relaxed. Forgetting her boyfriend’s birthday would have been a disaster.

“Never mind.” Nick shook his head and stepped toward her. “Look, there’s something I need to talk to you about. Something important.”

Josie looked up at him. There was an edge to his voice that made her heart beat faster. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said quickly. “I mean, there’s just a lot going on and I needed to–”

Deep in Josie’s purse, an alarm went off. Her cell‑phone reminder that she needed to be in the car on the way to her dad’s if she was going to make it back to work on time. She’d already received a written warning because of her tardiness–usually because she was lingering at the track, watching Nick practice–so she needed to motor. “Crap,” she said. “I have to go.”

“Oh.” The muscles around Nick’s mouth sagged, reflecting more dejection and pain than his clipped, monosyllabic response. What was going on with him?

“Call me,” Josie said. “After practice, okay? We’ll talk tonight.”

“Okay.” Nick flashed his crooked half smile, the sadness of a moment before evaporated. He was his old, carefree self again. “Don’t let any monsters attack you on the way back from Landover, okay?”

Josie snuggled her face into his chest. “I’ll try.”

THREE

P.M.

JOSIE’S ANCIENT HATCHBACK SHUDDERED IN protest as she stepped on the accelerator.

“Come on.” She leaned forward in her seat, willing the old car to go faster. “If I’m late again, I’m going to get fired.”

As if in answer, the Ford Focus lurched forward. A hand‑me‑down from her cousin, it was almost as old as she was, and the engine screeched in protest as she held the pedal to the floor. The speedometer flickered, desperately grasping for forty‑five miles per hour, and for a fleeting moment Josie thought the Teal Monster, as Madison had dubbed the car, might actually have some kick left in her.

Or not. The engine sputtered, momentum slowed, and Josie had to downshift to third gear.

“I hate you,” she said, slapping the steering wheel with the palm of her hand. “Just so you know.”

Josie’s phone rang. Keeping one hand on the wheel, she reached into the center console and hit speakerphone. “Hello?” she said loudly, over the roar of her car’s engine.

“Did you get it?” Her mom’s voice was crisp and businesslike.

Josie whizzed around a turn and hoped her mom couldn’t hear the screech of tires on the other end of the line. She eyed the rearview mirror, sending a death stare bouncing to the back of her car, where the oversized rococo monstrosity sat covered in a fluffy blue blanket, wedged into the flattened backseat through a feat of advanced car yoga.

“Josie, are you there?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Glancing right and left, Josie careened through a yellow light just as it turned red, praying there were no state troopers around as she barreled through the intersection. A speeding ticket was the last thing she needed. “I’ve got the mirror,” she said, before her mom could ask again.

“Good.” Her mom cleared her throat. “I just had a shipment delivered at the lab. So I’ll–”

“Be home late,” Josie said, finishing her thought. It was a conversation they had at least twice a week, whenever her mom got a shipment of materials delivered to her lab at Fort Meade. Top secret stuff, but Josie guessed it was the ultradense deuterium her mom used in most of her experiments. If so, it might be a few days before her mom surfaced from the lab.

“Right.” Her mom paused. “Okay, well, drive safely. I’ll call you later.”

Josie clicked off her phone. Part of her was relieved when her mom worked late: the tension between them recently had been almost unbearable. But since her dad had moved out, the house was lonely, and the idea of spending another night there by herself was incredibly depressing.

Her mood sinking like lead in water, Josie flipped on the radio. It was programmed to the AM news station.

“From the evidence at the scene,” a man said in a cool academic voice, “we have determined that the attacks were not caused by a bear. They appear to be the work of a predatory cat of some kind.”

A reporter cut into the prerecorded statement. “When pressed for information, Captain Wherry stated that local investigators are targeting known collectors of exotic animals in hopes of finding the cause of the recent attacks. For WPTN, I’m Morgan Curón.”

Josie rolled her eyes. A cat? Really? Sixteen dead bodies and all the authorities could come up with was an exotic cat?

Maybe Penelope was right: it was a cover‑up.

“Time for weather on the nines,” the news anchor said in his overly cheerful radio voice. “And we’re looking at glorious weather for this April fifteenth.”

Josie’s stomach dropped. Today was April fifteenth?

Holy crap, no wonder Nick had looked so upset when she left. Today was their one‑year anniversary.

And Josie had completely forgotten.

Shit, shit, shit. Major relationship screwup. How could she have forgotten? It was just a few weeks ago that she and Nick had been at the mall and he’d pointed out a necklace he thought she might like in the window of a chain jewelry store. Entwined hearts with little red stones at the apex of each. No wonder he’d been acting so weird that afternoon. He was waiting for her to wish him a happy anniversary so he could give her the necklace.

She reached for her phone; she needed to talk to him right that second. But he’d be in the middle of practice. Damn. She’d have to wait until after her shift and then maybe they could celebrate tomorrow?

She was the worst girlfriend ever.

Josie sped around a corner, tapping the brakes as lightly as possible so as not to lose momentum, and veered onto Leeland Road. Another glance at the time. 3:50 p.m. Ten minutes. She pushed Nick and their anniversary from her mind. There was nothing she could do about it, and right now she had to focus on getting to work. As long as she didn’t get caught at the railroad crossing she was totally going to make it.

Wishful thinking. Josie heard the peal of bells before she even saw the flashing lights. Train coming.

Crap.

Option A: slam both feet onto the accelerator and pray her car had enough power to slip under the rapidly descending crossing arm. Option B: slow down and wait for the train. Option A: decent chance of a gruesome, fiery death. Option B: decent chance she’d get fired.

Kind of a close call, but after a moment’s hesitation, Josie hit the brakes and screeched to a stop just as the railroad‑crossing arm locked into place across the road.

It didn’t take long for Josie to regret her sensible decision. Immediately, she realized it was a government transport train leaving Fort Meade. Probably the same one that had just delivered the shipment to her mom.

Oh, the irony.

Josie counted the cars as they ambled by. Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen . She checked the clock. 3:57 p.m. “Come on!” she said through clenched teeth.

Twenty‑two, twenty‑three, twenty‑four . Josie leaned over the steering wheel and craned her neck, trying to get a view of the rails stretching south through the thick greenery of forest that hugged both sides of the road. She could barely see twenty feet down the tracks. Was there an end in sight? She couldn’t tell.

Twenty‑six, twenty‑seven, twenty‑eight . Josie reached for her cell. She’d call work and explain. See? It wasn’t her fault. She would have been on time if it hadn’t been for the stupid train. How could she control that?

3:59. With a heavy sigh, Josie scrolled through her contacts to the coffeehouse’s number and hit the green button.

Josie wasn’t quite sure what happened next. The Teal Monster idled at the crossing, the occasional shudder of the strained engine rumbling beneath her. Then, suddenly, the car lurched so violently that Josie’s head smacked into the roof. She screamed–half from surprise, half from fear–and smashed her foot onto the brake pedal. Had someone hit her? She frantically looked into the rearview mirror but saw only the barren expanse of Leeland Road twisting into the woods. Confused, she turned all the way around to make sure a deer hadn’t accidentally rammed her. That’s when she noticed the mirror. It lay cockeyed in the back, and the blue blanket had slid to one side. The mirror must have shifted in the backseat while she was stopped at the crossing.

Huh?

She reached back to see if the mirror had been damaged, when a light flashed–fierce, white, and so intense that a searing pain shot through her eyeballs to the back of her skull and left her irises screaming for mercy. It was a clear, sunny afternoon in the middle of April, but the light that filled Josie’s car blinded her as if she’d been sitting for hours in utter darkness and someone had suddenly shone a spotlight in her face. She slapped a hand over her eyes, desperate to block out the blinding flash. Blood thundered through her temples, and her eyes ached against the piercing light. Josie buried her face in her hands, and felt the car shudder . . .

Then everything went dark.

FOUR

P.M.

A HORN BLARED. IT SOUNDED CLOSE, YET MUFFLED.

Then a voice. “Hello? Josie? Are you there?”

Josie blinked her eyes open, half expecting to still be blinded by the mysterious flash. Instead, Leeland Road stretched before her, open and empty. The train was gone. The crossing arm sat vertical and inert, the warning bells dead silent.

Her car was still running, her cell phone still gripped in one hand, and her manager’s voice pierced the haze that had settled over her brain.

She absently lifted the phone to her ear. “H‑hi,” she said lamely.

“Josie, do you have any idea what time it is?”

Another horn blast. An irate driver in a pickup truck swerved around her through the oncoming traffic lane, flipping her the bird as he passed.

“I said,” her manager repeated. His voice was steely. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Josie shook her head, trying to jar her brain back into working order. Time? What time was it? Her eyes drifted to the dashboard clock.

“Four oh‑nine?” She couldn’t keep the question out of her voice. Ten minutes? She’d been at the train crossing for ten minutes? That was impossible.

“Exactly,” he said. “You’re fired.”

She heard the phone go dead, yet Josie didn’t move. She stared at the digital clock display wondering what the hell had just happened.

P.M.

Josie eased the Teal Monster onto the soft shoulder of Leeland Road and cut the engine. She felt disoriented and confused, and her head still ached from the blinding flash of light that seemed to come from nowhere. She sat in the car, her heart pounding, and tried to figure out what she was going to do next.

She could have gone home, but to what? An empty house and no one to talk to. Not what she needed.

Other options: Penelope would be home, posting on one of her favorite online forums, but she’d immediately theorize that Josie’s experience at the train tracks was part of a government mind‑control experiment gone haywire or something equally off the rails, and Josie wasn’t quite in the mood for that. Nick would still be at track practice. She hated bothering him while he was training for regionals, but maybe if she texted to explain what had just happened . . .

Josie paused. What had just happened to her? She had absolutely no clue. One minute she was counting train cars, then the Teal Monster jumped off its tires and something blinded her. A flash. From the train, maybe? She thought it had come from that direction, but what on the train could have produced a flash that painfully bright? She remembered squeezing her eyes shut against the blue‑white light. And then . . .

Nothing.

She needed to talk this through with someone right away. Someone who would listen and wouldn’t judge. Like Madison.

Josie drove crosstown, the stupid mirror sliding back and forth in her trunk at every stop sign. All this drama for a mirror. She wanted to stop the car, haul the thing out, and smash it into a million pieces.

At the sight of Madison’s car in the driveway, Josie breathed a sigh of relief. She ran up the driveway, taking the wooden steps to the enclosed patio two at a time, and rang the doorbell.

Josie crossed her right foot behind her and tapped the toe of her pink tweed Converse impatiently while she waited. Come on, Madison! Answer the damn door. After what seemed like forever, Josie rang the bell again, leaning on it so the old‑fashioned chime tolled half dozen times.

Still nothing. Maybe Madison had the music cranked up in her room and couldn’t hear?

Josie retreated down the steps and snaked around to the backyard. Madison’s house was in one of the newer developments, with lots of land in between the homes and absolutely no fences, unlike the craftsman Josie’s parents owned in the old part of town, where the lots were practically on top of one another. Josie half expected to hear Madison’s favorite Pandora station blaring from the open window of her second‑floor bedroom, but the whole house was oddly quiet.

Where the hell are you, Mads?

She pulled out her phone and checked the time. Four forty‑five. Nick might be done with practice. It was worth a shot. She hit the call button and held her breath.

As the phone rang in Josie’s ear, another sound drifted down from above. A tinny rendition of Josie and Nick’s song. Which was also his custom ringtone for her calls.

Josie froze. Her phone continued to ring before it went to voice mail. “Hey, this is Nick. You know what to do.”

Josie hit redial before the beep. She didn’t even hold the phone to her ear, her arm lank by her side as she gazed up at the house. Once again, the opening chords of their song drifted down from the second floor. Through the open window in Madison’s bedroom.

With a shaky hand, Josie ended the call and immediately dialed Madison’s cell.

Another cell‑phone ringtone pierced the stillness of the afternoon–“Weird Science” by an old eighties band called Oingo Boingo–which Madison had programmed for Josie.

From the room above, someone silenced the phone after just a few seconds of ringing.

“Shit,” said a male voice.

Nick’s voice.

Josie caught a flicker of movement at the curtain in Madison’s window. A flutter as if someone had peeked out, then quickly let the fabric fall back into place.

“Shit.” Madison’s voice echoed.

Josie felt all the warmth drain out of her body. Her hands went numb, and the landscaped backyard blurred in and out of focus. The realization was slow and painful. Her best friend. Her boyfriend. The oldest cliché in the book.

“Seriously?” Josie said out loud. Her voice shook. “On our anniversary? Seriously? ”

Nick’s head of disheveled black hair filled the window. “Josie,” he said. “I can explain.”

“Explain? Explain what ?” Josie tottered backward across the uneven lawn, then forced her legs to work. She needed to get to the car. She needed to get out of there.

Josie rounded the front of the house just as the patio door creaked open.

“Josie!” Madison screamed. She was still buttoning up the cashmere sweater she’d worn to school that day. “Wait.”

Josie broke into a run, desperate to get to the Teal Monster.

Nick was faster. She could feel his runner’s stride pounding up behind her as she yanked open her car door. “Josie, stop!”

“Screw you.” Josie ducked inside and locked the door. Nick slammed his fist onto the driver’s‑side window, but Josie didn’t even look at him. She couldn’t. She fumbled with the keys; her hand shook violently as she turned over the ignition and she could already feel the hot tears pouring down her cheeks.

Josie took one look as she peeled out of the driveway. Madison stood on the lawn with her hands covering her face. Nick was in the middle of the street, arms outstretched toward her retreating car.

He hadn’t even bothered to put on his shirt.

FIVE

P.M.

“IS THAT YOU, JOSEPHINE?”

Josie froze midtiptoe. Dammit. Her mom was supposed to be staying late at the lab like, you know, she mentioned on the phone not even two hours ago. And when her mom said she was staying late at work, she meant it like 99.99 percent of the time.

But no. Not today. Today of all days, her mom surprised her by coming home early.

Perfect.

Josie had driven around for almost an hour, trying to decide what to do. A variety of choices crossed her mind, everything from plunging her car into the Anacostia River, to driving back to Madison’s house to tell them both exactly what she thought of them, to several other options that would have gotten her thirty to life in a state penitentiary.

For the first half hour or so her phone had rung off the hook. First Nick, then Madison, then Nick again. Rinse, repeat.

Then the texts. First Madison, in a rapid, manic stream.

Madison: Josie, please just listen.

Madison: It’s not what you think.

Madison: I mean, it is, but it’s not like that.

Madison: Nick just needed someone to talk to.

Madison: And you’ve been so busy.

Madison: And things just happened. I didn’t mean them to. I swear.

Then Nick. His texts came more slowly, as if he labored over what to say.

Nick: I’m sorry.

Nick: I didn’t mean to hurt you. It just happened.

Nick: You’ve been so distant lately.

Nick: I know that’s no excuse.

Nick: I don’t know what else to say.

Josie had ignored them all. She didn’t want to talk to either of them. Especially not Nick. She didn’t want to hear him beg for forgiveness. Or worse, maybe he wouldn’t. Josie recalled the conversation they had after school. There’s something I need to talk to you about. Maybe this had been his way of breaking up with her?

“Josephine?” her mom repeated. Her voice was louder, and Josie could clearly hear her footsteps ascending from the basement.

She should have stayed in the car.

“Josephine!” Her mom stood in the doorway that led to the basement lab, still in her white coat, with the top half of her dark brown hair twirled up on the top of her head and secured with two ballpoint pens.

“Is everything okay?”

Josie opened her mouth to say something, but the words froze on her tongue.

“What?” her mom said.

Josie flinched. She wanted to tell her mom the truth–about Nick and Madison, about her job, and about the train. She wanted a squishy hug, to feel her mom’s long fingers comb through Josie’s hair and for her mom to tell her that everything was going to be okay. But there had been such a strain between them the last few months, a divide that neither of them seemed able to cross, and the last thing Josie needed at that moment was to be rejected by her own mother.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Josie leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. She felt suddenly dizzy; the cramped quarters of the hallway spun around her. She just wanted to crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head, and pray that when she woke up, she’d discover that she’d gunned the engine on her car and outrun the oncoming train.

Maybe then, none of this would have happened.

“Where’s the mirror?” her mom asked abruptly.

Right. The real reason her mom was even talking to her. “I left it in the garage.”

“Fine, fine,” she muttered more to herself than to Josie. “I’ll move it downstairs to the lab.” Then she cleared her throat and turned suddenly toward her bedroom door. “I have to go out tonight.”

Josie shook herself. “Oh.” Great. Was her mom dating now?

“Just back to the lab,” she said, as if reading Josie’s mind. “Running an experiment. Need to check in. You’ll be okay here?”

Josie shrugged. “Sure.”

“Good.” Her mom paused as if she was going to add something, then shook her head again in that odd, distracted way. “Get some rest, Josephine. You look tired.”

A.M.

Time abandoned her.

Josie had been lying on her bed in the dark, staring at the ceiling for what felt like days, yet the alarm clock on her nightstand mocked her. It had only been four hours.

Stupid clock.

Her mom said she looked tired, but that was an understatement. She was exhausted, plain and simple. Hours of crying would do that. Her temples throbbed from the headache that ravaged the very depths of her brain, and her raw, bloodshot eyes ached beneath swollen lids. Her limbs were heavy, a mix of fatigue and despair, and her entire existence felt futile.

Her body and mind were completely worn down, yet she couldn’t sleep. Not for half a second had she slipped into blissful unconsciousness. She’d been aware of every moment that passed, even the sound of her mom quietly opening the front door when she got home, and dragging something heavy down the hall and into the basement. The stupid mirror, no doubt. Josie had been wide awake for all of it.

She’d tried to fall asleep, of course, for hours. All her usual tricks: counting sheep, pretending she was on a tropical island with Nick–she even looked for comfort in her favorite childhood stuffed animal, Mr. Fugly Bear. Whenever there was a thunder‑and‑lightning storm, her dad would bring her Mr. Fugly Bear (so named because he was missing an ear and the “thumb” off his right paw due to a washing‑machine incident), who was the bravest, most rugged bear in town and would protect her from any and all danger. He’d prop Mr. Fugly Bear up against Josie’s pillow, facing the window in case any monsters tried to crawl in that way.

Whether or not Mr. Fugly Bear could protect Josie from a trampled heart was never put to the test. He always sat on one of her bookshelves, but suddenly he was gone. There was another teddy bear on the shelf that looked vaguely familiar, but no Mr. Fugly. She must have moved him when cleaning up her room, accidentally shoved him to the back of a shelf or something.

Even he knew when to jump off a sinking ship, apparently.

And so she just lay there, staring at the ceiling. She couldn’t erase the last view of Nick from her mind: shirtless, standing in the middle of the street in front of Madison’s house.

Eyes open or closed, she couldn’t get that image out of her mind. And it stayed with her, mocking her pain, it seemed, until sleep finally overtook her.

A.M.

The car shudders in protest as she steps on the accelerator.

But only for an instant. The BMW’s precision engine kicks in immediately and she relaxes into the leather seat as the speedometer jumps five miles per hour.

She strokes the calfskin‑wrapped steering wheel. “I love you,” she says out loud. “Just so you know.”

She glances at the digital clock on the dashboard. Two minutes to four. She should only be a few minutes late, as long as she doesn’t get caught at the train tracks.

Of course it’s her own fault she’s running late, but whatever. Totally worth it to watch Nick at track practice after school.

She speeds around a corner, tapping the brakes as lightly as possible so as not to lose momentum, and veers onto Leeland Road. Up ahead, she can hear the peal of bells even before she sees the flashing lights at the bend in the road. Train coming.

There’s only a split second to decide, but it’s a no‑brainer. She slams on the accelerator. The engine revs and the car careens forward as the arm of the railroad crossing descends. She holds her breath in anticipation and she grips the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles ache. She can feel the tension in her fingers, the strain of her muscles as she wills the car onward. Will I make it? Too close to call. Her heart races and her breath comes in short gasps; the anticipation is palpable. Will she die in a glorious explosion as the train hits her car at full speed? She smiles. At least then all her problems would vanish.

The car shoots under the descending arm with inches to spare. For an instant she’s blinded by the lights of the speeding train, then her car flies down the far side of Leeland Road.

She’s not sure if she’s relieved or disappointed that she’s still alive.

Josie sat bolt upright.

Her heart raced, and she was sweating so badly her light cotton pajamas clung to her damp flesh like plastic wrap.

Darkness surrounded her. She was in her bedroom. In bed. Safe. It was just a dream.

Was it? Josie held her hands up in front of her face. Her fingers curled inward, stiff and sore, as if they’d held something in a death grip.

Like a steering wheel.

SIX

P.M.

SHE NEVER FELL BACK TO SLEEP. AFTER THE nightmare, a mix of insomnia and despair weighed on her, and left her sobbing in her bed late into the morning. So it was some kind of miracle that she managed to get herself to AP Physics just as the late bell rang.

She’d wanted to stay in bed, lock her bedroom door, pull the covers over her head, and stay there until . . . forever. But missing physics would have put their project–and their grade–in jeopardy, and Josie couldn’t do that to Penelope, especially since the Penrose experiment had been entirely her idea. Besides, she doubted the news of Madison and Nick’s affair would have gotten around yet, so at least she’d be spared that indignity. Holding on to that one gleaming ray of good news in an otherwise wretched day, Josie had hauled her ass into the shower and made a halfhearted attempt to look as if her world hadn’t collapsed around her.

A decision she now regretted.

Was it her imagination, or had the classroom fallen eerily silent? She couldn’t look at anyone, didn’t dare lest the precariously controlled sobbing that had overwhelmed her for most of the morning erupt again, but she had the acute sensation that every head in the classroom had turned to face her.

Josie slowly walked across the room to her lab table, eyes fixed on the tiled floor, painfully aware of how tragic she looked. Her unwashed hair had been yanked back into a ponytail and she clearly hadn’t put much thought into the jeans, graphic tee, and stripy grandma sweater she’d pulled on. Her shoes completed the fashion disaster. She’d pulled her closet apart for her favorite pair of pink tweed Converse, but she couldn’t find them, and in the end she just slipped on a pair of beat‑up flip‑flops that looked as if they’d taken one too many trips through the washing machine. Last, she’d attempted to disguise her dark under‑eye circles with a clown‑sized dollop of concealer, and to mask her red, bloodshot eyes with a dose of Visine that would have put Niagara to shame.

Yep, she was a disastrophe. Pathetic.

Penelope fidgeted on her stool as Josie sat down next to her. She was agitated, barely able to contain herself, and as Mr. Baines began to explain how he’d be evaluating their proposals, Penelope kept glancing at Josie, taking a breath as if she was going to say something, then looking away. In fact, everyone appeared to be stealing furtive glances at Josie whenever Mr. Baines turned his back. She was clearly the most interesting science experiment in the room.

Her illusion that word of Madison’s and Nick’s affair hadn’t gotten out? Obliterated.

As soon as Mr. Baines started his rounds, Penelope broke her silence. “Oh my God,” she said in a strained whisper. “You’re here. I mean, you’re okay. I mean, I was so worried because you weren’t answering your phone and then everyone was talking about Nick and Madison, and then I saw the necklace at lunch and–”

Josie’s head snapped up. “Necklace?”

Penelope cocked her head to the side. “Yeah. Nick gave Madison a necklace. Entwined hearts.”

“Entwined hearts?” A lump rose in Josie’s throat. “Gold with little red gemstones?”

“Yeah.” Penelope cocked her head to the side. “How did you know?”

Josie groaned. “My anniversary gift.” Nick had given it to Madison.

Penelope’s eyes grew wide. “Wait, you do know that they’ve been getting it on behind your back, right?”

Josie winced. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Oh, good.” Penelope caught her breath. “I mean, no. I mean, I’m so sorry.”

Josie stared at the table.

“So they decided to come clean?” Penelope continued in her high‑pitched whisper.

Josie shook her head. “No. I caught them.”

“Shit!”

Zeke and Zeb, the Kaufman twins, turned around at Penelope’s exclamation. They were Nick’s teammates on the varsity track team. Perfect. That was the last thing Josie needed: Nick’s friends reporting back on the pathetic state of his ex‑girlfriend.

“Shh!” she hissed at Penelope.

“Sorry.”

She should have stayed home.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Penelope said, her voice low and steady. “I really was worried.”

Josie nodded. She appreciated Penelope’s concern, even if she couldn’t quite process it.

“I wanted to punch Madison in the face when I heard,” Penelope continued, talking nervously. “She was flaunting the necklace around in Humanities. Even Nick looked uncomfortable. Fidgety, and every time she touched him, he kind of stiffened up. It made my skin crawl the way she was acting, like they’d been dating forever and not just screwing behind your back for the last two months.”

“Two months?” Josie’s stomach dropped.

Penelope’s hand flew to her mouth. “I didn’t mean to tell you that.”

“Who’s saying it’s been going on for two months?”

“Um . . .” Penelope lowered her voice. “Everyone?”

“Everyone?”

Penelope slapped her hand over her mouth again and let out a tiny squeak.

Josie lowered her forehead onto the smooth, cold metal of the lab table. Two months? Nick had been lying to her for two months?

How had she not seen this? Not known? How could she have been so stupid?

“Miss Wang. Miss Byrne.” Mr. Baines strolled up to their lab table, clipboard in hand. His lips were pursed, and his wide‑set eyes crinkled just at the corners as if he was secretly amused by their setup. “A standard beam‑splitter experiment? I expected something less boilerplate from the daughter of Dr. Elizabeth Byrne.”

Josie met Mr. Baines’s gaze. She’d always suspected he rather passively disliked her, but as he stood there before her, the hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his thin lips, she realized it was a less passive and more active animosity bubbling under the surface.

“We’re attempting to prove the Penrose Interpretation,” Penelope said quickly, her voice rising an octave.

“Really?” Mr. Baines said. His eyes never left Josie’s face.

“Y‑yes,” Penelope stuttered. “We just need to build the vacuum to replicate conditions outside the Earth’s atmosphere and–”

Mr. Baines cocked an eyebrow. “A vacuum? That’s it?”

“And mirrors,” Penelope added, somewhat lamely.

“More like smoke and mirrors,” Mr. Baines said with a throaty laugh. He scribbled in his notebook and turned to examine the next table. “Good luck with the unprovable theory.”

“It’s not unprovable,” Josie mumbled.

Mr. Baines paused and turned back to her. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s not unprovable,” Josie repeated. This time, her voice sounded strong and forceful, no hint of tears. It was as if something snapped inside her at Mr. Baines’s condescension, and suddenly all Josie wanted was a fight.

Mr. Baines walked back to their table. “I believe Penrose himself would disagree with you.”

Penelope poked Josie violently in the back with her pen, practically begging her to shut the hell up. Too late.

“Well, then Penrose himself is an idiot.” Josie said it louder than she’d intended. Penelope gasped, and all around her, Josie could hear the rustling of bodies as people focused on the escalating confrontation.

“Hm.” Mr. Baines sniffed the air as if he detected a rotten odor in the air. He looked Josie directly in the eye and she met his gaze steadily. She wasn’t about to back down. She’d learned more about parallel‑universe theories by the time she was ten years old than Mr. Baines knew now. Her parents had spent their entire careers attempting to prove the many‑worlds theory to explain quantum irregularities, and names like Niels Bohr and Hugh Everett III were more familiar to her than Harry Potter or Anne Shirley. If Mr. Baines wanted to go toe‑to‑toe with her on this subject, she was ready for him.

Instead, he looked away and flipped the page on his clipboard in a hurried fashion. “Well, I’m glad to see you haven’t let certain personal events distract you from your work.”

Josie’s face burned. In an instant, the pain, horror, and indignity of her situation swamped her, made even more painful by the realization that not only did every student at school know what happened to her, but her snooty physics teacher did as well.

Josie desperately tried to fight back the tears that welled up in her eyes, but it was no use. Penelope, the lab table, the entire classroom blurred out of focus. As the first of the heavy droplets spilled down her cheeks, Josie spun around and ran out of the room.

SEVEN

P.M.

YOU SHOULDN’T BE HERE.

Josie ignored her inner voice of reason and continued to stare out the passenger window of her car. Parked on the hill above the athletic field, the Teal Monster half‑hidden behind a Dumpster, she could just see the boys’ track team running pyramid drills. She remembered those practices well. She’d sit in the bleachers, focused on homework, occasionally glancing up to find the tall, muscular form of her boyfriend sprinting around the all‑weather track. Even now, stealing a moment with him from her hiding place in the car was oddly comforting.

That’s so pathetic.

“Shut up,” Josie said out loud.

Awesome, Josie. Talking to yourself while you stalk your ex‑boyfriend. Quite a life you’ve carved out for yourself.

A pack of boys in mismatched red‑and‑white shorts and loose‑fitting T‑shirts rounded the upper turn. The middle‑distance runners were pushing themselves through the last four hundred meters. They ran in a small pack, about eight guys in all, and at that distance they looked two inches tall. The Kaufman twins stuck out like identical sore thumbs, their long, bleached‑blond hair flopping with each stride in almost disturbing symmetry. Then Josie’s eyes drifted to the dark‑haired runner behind them. Nick.

He ran with a telltale stance–straight up and down with a high kick to the knee. And as the pack cleared the corner, heading down the final straightaway, Nick slipped into an outside lane, whipped around the twins, and pulled ahead. Josie couldn’t see his face but could picture it in her mind. Cool and calm, no display of fatigue or stress. It was his signature finish. While the other runners strained, red‑faced, to keep up with him, Nick always had something left in the tank.

As usual, Nick crossed the imaginary finish line several feet ahead of his nearest rival. He threw his arms in the air and jumped around as if he’d just won a gold medal. The other runners dribbled across the line and bent forward, hands on knees, while Nick continued his mock celebration. Then one by one, they all meandered to the inner field for stretches.

Josie sighed and leaned her head back against the headrest. It was almost like old times, if “old times” was just twenty‑four hours ago. Nick at practice, Josie watching. She could almost imagine . . .

Josie froze. Below, another figure stepped onto the field: slender, elegant, poised even when picking her way across the spongy surface of the track. Josie could tell right away it was Madison. Her curls rippled in the spring breeze, and before she was halfway to the field, Nick caught sight of her. He stood up slowly, glancing to his right and left as if from embarrassment, and sauntered across the field to meet her.

Madison reached out and grabbed Nick by the waistband of his shorts, pulling her to him. Then right there on the track, she kissed him.

Nick broke off the face sucking after a few seconds, and Josie watched as Madison reached a hand to her neck and lifted something to her lips. She kissed the object before letting it fall back into place. The necklace.

“Fuck you!” Josie shouted. She pounded on the steering wheel with both fists. She hated them both so much. How dare they be so happy? How dare they have done this to her? “Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!” Then she accidentally hit the car horn with her fist.

Madison and Nick instantly looked up toward the Teal Monster’s hiding place. Josie scrunched down in her seat. This was a disaster. How could she have been so stupid? Spying on her ex‑boyfriend and ex–best friend. Josie’s blood ran cold. She was going to be the laughingstock of the entire school.

Without sitting up, she turned the ignition over, released the parking brake, and eased her car around the Dumpster. She waited until she was completely out of sight of the track before she sat up in her seat.

She could barely drive home amid the sobs.

EIGHT

P.M.

JOSIE WOULD HAVE GONE STRAIGHT TO BED THE second she got home, if it weren’t for the explosion.

She was dragging her tired, worn body down the hallway when the foundation of the house rocked as if an earthquake had hit. Josie had to brace herself against the wall to remain upright. At the end of the hall, the basement door flew open, and a bright light flashed through the house, so intense it momentarily blinded her.

It took Josie a few seconds to process what had happened. The flash. The feeling that the house had jumped off of its foundation.

Josie swallowed, her throat suddenly parched, as a creepy‑crawly feeling spread across her skin. This had all happened before. In her car, by the side of the train tracks just twenty‑four hours ago. Could it be a coincidence? Or something even stranger?

You’re being ridiculous . Josie shook her shoulders, tossing off the inexplicable fear that had overcome her. She didn’t believe in coincidence, or déjà vu, or any of that crap. This was a pattern, and the one thing she’d had instilled in her since childhood by her two scientist parents is that patterns are not random. They always exist for a reason.

Josie set her jaw and marched down the hall.

Time to find the reason.

The basement lab was in a state of chaos. Books and equipment were scattered across the floor, dumped from a metal shelving unit that had tilted over onto the large stainless steel table in the middle of the room. The floor was strewn with broken glass, which crunched under the soles of Josie’s flip‑flops, but she hardly noticed. Her eyes were fixed on a piece of equipment in the corner. Mounted on an elaborately rigged series of sawhorses and tables that curved around one corner of the basement, down the full length of the house, and back around the next corner, was a laser.

Not just any laser. Josie recognized the double undulators, compact accelerator, and experimental bending magnets right away. It was a prototype of a compact X‑ray free‑electron laser–an X‑FEL–the multimillion‑dollar piece of equipment Penelope had suggested they “borrow” from Josie’s mom for their science‑fair entry. And it was sitting in Josie’s basement.

Wouldn’t someone at Fort Meade notice that an X‑FEL the size of a minivan and worth more than the crown jewels had suddenly gone missing from a heavily secured government facility? How the hell had it gotten into Josie’s house?

Josie eased her way around an overturned table for a closer look at the laser. She’d never seen this version of an X‑FEL before but she’d heard her parents discussing it excitedly over dinner for years. It had been one of the priority projects up at Fort Meade: millions in funding, a team of A‑list scientists and engineers, top secret specs no one had ever seen.

Josie bent down and examined one of the undulators. It was one of the most high‑tech, cutting‑edge pieces of equipment in the world and yet . . .

Something wasn’t right. This rig wasn’t shiny and new and gleaming with custom‑made components. It was old, gritty, and looked as if it had been pieced together with odd parts and discarded materials from earlier prototypes. Josie peered at the accelerator tube, her nose so close her breath made foggy little clouds against its metal surface. She could clearly see the seaming where different pieces of the cylinder had been fused together. An X‑FEL of that caliber should have had a custom‑designed accelerator of all one piece, and this one looked almost homemade.

Josie snapped upright. Homemade? Had her mom built a duplicate version of a top secret laser in their basement ?

“What the hell is going on?”

The words might have come from Josie’s mouth, but they didn’t. She spun around, stumbling over a heavy steel box, and saw her mother standing at the top of the stairs.

“Oh my God,” her mom gasped, taking in the full extent of the damage.

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks,” Josie said under her breath.

Her mom inched down the stairs, as if testing her weight against each step. Her eyes were wide with shock as she scanned the basement from left to right. “What happened?” she said at last, her voice shaky. “Tell me what happened.”

“There was an explosion.”

Her mom whirled on her. “Did you turn it on?” she said breathlessly. “Did you turn on the laser and cause an explosion? Where is the deuterium?”

“Wait, there was deuterium in the house?”

“Tell me!” her mom snapped.

Josie shook her head. “I was upstairs. There was an explosion. It blew the door open.”

Josie’s mom glanced up at the basement door. “Blew the door open?” she said absently.

“Yeah,” Josie continued, “and I found the lab like this.”

“Found the lab like this . . .” Her mom’s voice trailed off.

“Mom, what’s going on? Why do you have the X‑FEL in the basement? And why does it look like you made it yourself?”

Her mom turned back to her and opened her mouth to say something, then clapped it shut. She stared over Josie’s head at something against the far wall of the basement. Josie turned, following her gaze to the mirror propped up in the corner.

“Get it out of here,” her mom said without looking at Josie.

“Huh?”

“The mirror. Get it out of the lab. Now.”

“Why?” Josie stared at her mom. The mirror? Really? There was a bootleg weapons‑grade laser in the house and her mom was concerned about the mirror?

“I . . . ,” her mom started, her eyes faltering. “I don’t want it damaged. It was my grandmother’s.”

Josie sighed. Fine, whatever. She crunched her way to the back of the basement, lifted the mirror, then shimmied through the mess and up the stairs.

As she reached the hallway, she looked down at her mom to ask what she was supposed to do with the mirror. But the words froze on her lips. Her mom sat on a stool, head in her hands.

Josie had no idea what was going on, no hint of what her mom was involved in. Locked doors, homemade lasers, explosions, secrets.

Maybe this had all contributed to her parents’ separation? Maybe there was something going on–something major–that had shut her mom off from her family? Josie made a mental note to ask her mom about it. But not now. With her mom still sobbing in the basement, Josie quietly closed the door.

P.M.

Josie rested the mirror against the wall outside her bedroom and stared at it. So many odd things had happened since she picked up the stupid thing from her dad’s apartment. Could they all be connected or was it just a weird coincidence?

There’s no such thing as coincidence . That was practically a mantra around the Byrne household. So if it wasn’t a coincidence, there was something about the mirror that connected the disparate events of the last twenty‑four hours. Something concrete and logical. There had to be.

She’d seen the mirror once before, at her mom’s lab on a “bring your kid to work” day back in elementary school. Her mom said the mirror helped inspire her when she was trying to solve a problem in the lab, though why she decided to bring it home a few months ago, Josie had no idea.

It stood about five feet high, with short legs on either side and a rounded top. Garish and ostentatious, the frame was heavily embellished with opulent wood carvings–jagged leaf flourishes that jutted out onto the surface of the mirror, connected by swirling vines that got denser and more entangled as they extended upward. At the top of the mirror, the heavy carved foliage entwined to form a kind of woodland crown, right in the middle of which was an angelic face. Josie’s arms got goose pimply as the delicate face stared at her with dark, unseeing eyes in the muted light of the hallway.

Part of her wanted to beat the mirror to a pulp: smash the glass, dismember the frame, and stomp up and down on its remnants until there was nothing left but dust and slivers. Instead, she found herself dragging the ugly thing into her room, where she shoved aside a beanbag chair and leaned it against the wall.

If the mirror was somehow connected to the flash of light and the explosion in her basement, she was going to figure it out. Maybe it would fix whatever her mom was dealing with. Then maybe, just maybe, Josie could fix her family too.

NINE

A.M.

SHE GLANCES UP AT THE SUN AS SHE WALKS ACROSS the track. Almost three full hours before sunset–plenty of time to get home before dark.

A pack of boys in mismatched red‑and‑white shorts and loose‑fitting T‑shirts rounds the upper turn. She steps onto the inner field and pauses next to a pile of gym bags.

The boys blow past her at a full sprint. Except one. From the back of the pack, he slows his pace, running straight up and down with a high kick to the knee. Cool and calm, with no display of fatigue or strain, Nick stops inches from her.

“Hey, Jo.”

She smiles. “Nick.”

“What are you doing here?”

She takes a step toward him. “You said you had something for me. Remember?”

“Oh. Right,” he says between deep breaths. “I just didn’t think you’d want it right now.”

“I do,” Jo says. “Is that okay?”

“Of course.”

She follows Nick across the field to a pile of backpacks and jackets. He bends down, unzips the front pouch of his bag, and removes something wrapped in blue tissue paper. “I think this belongs to you.” He puts the packet in her hand.

She trembles as she slowly peels away the layers of tissue. “Oh, Nick!” She gasps.

It’s a necklace on a gold chain. Two entwined hearts.

“Yeah,” he says, a black curl flopping over his eye. “I thought you’d want it.”

She reaches up and brushes the hair from his face, letting her hand linger against his cheek. He doesn’t move. She trails her hand down his chest and she can feel his heart pounding. She doesn’t care that he’s sweaty. She doesn’t care that he smells like the inside of the boys’ locker room. She presses her body into his and tilts her head up toward him. He looks down at her with those piercing brown eyes as she stands on tiptoe, aching for his lips. . . .

Josie let out a moan as her eyes fluttered open. Instead of Nick’s face just inches from her own, all she saw was darkness. The bluish light of the moon streamed in through her window, illuminating a patch of floor and bureau, including a loose photo of her and Nick. It was taken just a few weeks ago.

When Nick was already cheating on her.

The image of Madison kissing Nick on the track flooded Josie’s mind. Between the explosion in her mom’s lab and the mystery of the mirror, Josie had almost managed to forget her most recent humiliation.

Almost.

Ugh. Tomorrow was going to be a disaster at school. The embarrassment of getting caught spying on them was salt in the wound of their betrayal. Everyone at school would be talking about it. How was she going to face the shame?

Josie fought the panic welling up inside her. She just needed to get some sleep. Things would seem better in the morning. She rolled on her side, determined to put all thoughts of Nick and Madison out of her mind, and looked at the clock just before she shut her eyes.

4:00 a.m.

Date: 2015-12-24; view: 499