car was like the command center on a nuclear submarine. With a tentative finger, she engaged the push-button ignition. Instantly, the car came to life as the mirrors, steering wheel, and seat all moved into the perfect position for Josie’s frame. The in-dash navigation screen welcomed “Josephine” with a personal greeting, and a series of flashing lights and beeps told her that everything had been checked and rechecked, and they were ready for launch. Er, for her drive to school. Same thing.
Josie almost felt sorry for Jo, who’d have to limp through suburban Bowie in the shuddering, temperamental disaster that was the Teal Monster. She probably should have warned Jo about that tricky ignition.
Oops.
It took her a few tries to find the visor button that opened the garage door; then with a deep breath and the school’s address programmed into her GPS, Josie eased the car down the driveway.
“Turn left ahead,” the car’s mellifluous computer voice told her at the end of the driveway. Just like home, Josie turned left on Round Tree Lane. The houses looked similar on the treelined street. But also different, like everything else about Jo’s world. There were a lot of brand-spanking-new McMansions, as well as totally remodeled older houses like the one Jo lived in. Originally a small craftsman like Josie’s house, one here had been transformed into a modern two-story home complete with attached three-car garage.
Then there were the massive streetlights in front of every house in the neighborhood. Every single house. In addition, most had floodlights mounted on their exteriors—above the front door and the garage. Apparently, everyone was paranoid about not having enough light.
Despite the fact that this neighborhood was significantly more upscale than the one in which Josie lived, there were several houses that looked completely abandoned. Windows boarded up, lawns overgrown and gone to seed. A few even had collapsed roofs. And each abandoned house had a large sign staked into the lawn: NO GRID ACCESS.
Josie wondered what that was all about.
While Jo’s neighborhood may have seemed strange, Bowie Prep, on the other hand, was relatively familiar. Same imposing brick façade, same smattering of kids scurrying to and fro. The parking lot was packed by the time she got there, except for one spot right near the front. It didn’t seem to be handicapped or reserved. Someone must have just left. Finally, something was going Josie’s way.
For the first time since she walked through the mirror, Josie felt at home. Bowie Prep in Jo’s world looked a whole hell of a lot like Bowie Prep in Josie’s, except cleaner and brighter. Still, things were in the same places—the entry hall, school office, courtyard all right where Josie would have expected them. Even her locker, number 441, was in the same place as Josie’s number 441. Everything was the same.
Except one thing. Here, people noticed her.
“Hi, Jo!” a couple of girls said in unison as they passed her in the hallway. They looked vaguely familiar, though certainly no one Josie was friendly with back home, but she smiled in return like they were best friends. A group of guys greeted her around the next corner, then a trio of nervous underclassmen smiled at her tentatively as she stopped at her locker. It was like she was school royalty or something. Everyone knew Jo Byrne, and apparently for all the right reasons, whereas back home, Josie was just known as the sap who got “Byrned” while her boyfriend and best friend got it on behind her back.
Josie checked her cheat sheet for Jo’s locker combination. 35-12-8. Exactly the same as her own. It was amazing the things that were the same.
And the things that weren’t.
Jo had English for first period and as the warning bell rang, Josie made her way upstairs for class. Though she’d been combing the halls for Nick since she arrived, she still wasn’t prepared to find him standing at his locker near the
Josie almost felt sorry for Jo, who’d have to limp through suburban Bowie in the shuddering, temperamental disaster that was the Teal Monster. She probably should have warned Jo about that tricky ignition.
Oops.
It took her a few tries to find the visor button that opened the garage door; then with a deep breath and the school’s address programmed into her GPS, Josie eased the car down the driveway.
“Turn left ahead,” the car’s mellifluous computer voice told her at the end of the driveway. Just like home, Josie turned left on Round Tree Lane. The houses looked similar on the treelined street. But also different, like everything else about Jo’s world. There were a lot of brand-spanking-new McMansions, as well as totally remodeled older houses like the one Jo lived in. Originally a small craftsman like Josie’s house, one here had been transformed into a modern two-story home complete with attached three-car garage.
Then there were the massive streetlights in front of every house in the neighborhood. Every single house. In addition, most had floodlights mounted on their exteriors—above the front door and the garage. Apparently, everyone was paranoid about not having enough light.
Despite the fact that this neighborhood was significantly more upscale than the one in which Josie lived, there were several houses that looked completely abandoned. Windows boarded up, lawns overgrown and gone to seed. A few even had collapsed roofs. And each abandoned house had a large sign staked into the lawn: NO GRID ACCESS.
Josie wondered what that was all about.
While Jo’s neighborhood may have seemed strange, Bowie Prep, on the other hand, was relatively familiar. Same imposing brick façade, same smattering of kids scurrying to and fro. The parking lot was packed by the time she got there, except for one spot right near the front. It didn’t seem to be handicapped or reserved. Someone must have just left. Finally, something was going Josie’s way.
For the first time since she walked through the mirror, Josie felt at home. Bowie Prep in Jo’s world looked a whole hell of a lot like Bowie Prep in Josie’s, except cleaner and brighter. Still, things were in the same places—the entry hall, school office, courtyard all right where Josie would have expected them. Even her locker, number 441, was in the same place as Josie’s number 441. Everything was the same.
Except one thing. Here, people noticed her.
“Hi, Jo!” a couple of girls said in unison as they passed her in the hallway. They looked vaguely familiar, though certainly no one Josie was friendly with back home, but she smiled in return like they were best friends. A group of guys greeted her around the next corner, then a trio of nervous underclassmen smiled at her tentatively as she stopped at her locker. It was like she was school royalty or something. Everyone knew Jo Byrne, and apparently for all the right reasons, whereas back home, Josie was just known as the sap who got “Byrned” while her boyfriend and best friend got it on behind her back.
Josie checked her cheat sheet for Jo’s locker combination. 35-12-8. Exactly the same as her own. It was amazing the things that were the same.
And the things that weren’t.
Jo had English for first period and as the warning bell rang, Josie made her way upstairs for class. Though she’d been combing the halls for Nick since she arrived, she still wasn’t prepared to find him standing at his locker near the
Similar Books
