building. It’s two stories down from street level, and there’s no way to exit the courtyard but back through the same entrance. You might be recognized when you walk into this area, so be ready to run back the way you came. If that happens, I’ll try to get you out.
What do you mean, you’ll try? I asked.
Just be ready to run.
Wait, Jonas. What am I going to see?
And ruin the surprise? I don’t think so.
Chapter Eight
The room was filled with tables and chairs, like a cafeteria. Light filtered down from the skylights above—outside light that was quickly fading given the evening hour.
People buzzed about: children, teens, adults. At the tables, adults sat across from small children. They read to them, helped them with what looked like homework.
Teens of all ages talked in groups of four or five.
I scanned the room. What was this? It reminded me of Wellington’s dining hall between meals, when students gathered to finish homework, study for exams, or simply catch up on gossip.
I walked slowly around the perimeter. Every once in a while, a child would look up at me. One child made eye contact and smiled. She couldn’t have been more than ten years old. She was wearing a navy, patterned dress and leggings, and her hair was pulled into a loose and messy ponytail. She immediately pushed away from what she was doing and ran to me.
After giving me a hug, she crooked her finger, asking me to bend down to her. I did, and she whispered, “You look different. Where’ve you been?”
Every muscle in my neck and spine locked up. A cold sweat broke out across my forehead. “Do you recognize me?”
She nodded, then pulled me close again. After placing a quick kiss on my cheek, she scurried back to her table.
I stood up straight, quickly turned back toward the exit—and smacked into another person.
“Oh, I’m…” My words trailed off when I stared into eyes I knew so well that I could recite their retinal pattern. Only… something was terribly wrong.
“Who are you?” the person asked.
I studied him—his cobalt blue eyes and his sandy blond hair that was cut short enough to spike in the front. Everything about him was nearly identical to Jack. My Jack.
“Who am I?” I repeated back to him. Oh my gosh, Jonas. How do I get out of here? But Jonas wasn’t inside my head anymore. He had left me. He knew what I was going to find. And he left me.
Then a different presence entered my head. A very distinct presence, unlike anything I had ever felt. Instead of fuzzy around the edges, I could clearly see the person inside my head. When this person mindspoke there was no question that it was the exact person standing before me now. Why have we never met? the Jack look-alike asked.
My knees buckled. This person before me, with hands identical to those that have held me and brushed hair from my face. Hands that have held my own, that have grazed my lower back. Those same, but different, hands caught me as my legs betrayed me and I slumped to the ground.
He supported my back and brought me back up. My face was inches from his. I couldn’t keep my fingers from reaching out to trace the outline of his cheekbone. It was Jack. But it wasn’t. Everything but the way his hair was cut.
Before I could recover, a group of men and women entered the room. Some were dressed in black suits, others wore blue scrubs and white lab coats. My eyes darted from them back to the person in front of me.
Come with me. Jack’s look-alike grabbed my hand and led me to a group of teenagers in the corner.
When I saw their familiar faces, I stopped dead. I curled my trembling fingers into fists.
Dia! he mindspoke.
A redhead turned in her seat, and when she saw me she said, “Holy mother of all that is good and normal in this world!”
“My thoughts exactly,” I whispered, as I looked at the spitting image of Briana Howard, my archnemesis from school. Everything matched, from too much makeup to those
What do you mean, you’ll try? I asked.
Just be ready to run.
Wait, Jonas. What am I going to see?
And ruin the surprise? I don’t think so.
Chapter Eight
The room was filled with tables and chairs, like a cafeteria. Light filtered down from the skylights above—outside light that was quickly fading given the evening hour.
People buzzed about: children, teens, adults. At the tables, adults sat across from small children. They read to them, helped them with what looked like homework.
Teens of all ages talked in groups of four or five.
I scanned the room. What was this? It reminded me of Wellington’s dining hall between meals, when students gathered to finish homework, study for exams, or simply catch up on gossip.
I walked slowly around the perimeter. Every once in a while, a child would look up at me. One child made eye contact and smiled. She couldn’t have been more than ten years old. She was wearing a navy, patterned dress and leggings, and her hair was pulled into a loose and messy ponytail. She immediately pushed away from what she was doing and ran to me.
After giving me a hug, she crooked her finger, asking me to bend down to her. I did, and she whispered, “You look different. Where’ve you been?”
Every muscle in my neck and spine locked up. A cold sweat broke out across my forehead. “Do you recognize me?”
She nodded, then pulled me close again. After placing a quick kiss on my cheek, she scurried back to her table.
I stood up straight, quickly turned back toward the exit—and smacked into another person.
“Oh, I’m…” My words trailed off when I stared into eyes I knew so well that I could recite their retinal pattern. Only… something was terribly wrong.
“Who are you?” the person asked.
I studied him—his cobalt blue eyes and his sandy blond hair that was cut short enough to spike in the front. Everything about him was nearly identical to Jack. My Jack.
“Who am I?” I repeated back to him. Oh my gosh, Jonas. How do I get out of here? But Jonas wasn’t inside my head anymore. He had left me. He knew what I was going to find. And he left me.
Then a different presence entered my head. A very distinct presence, unlike anything I had ever felt. Instead of fuzzy around the edges, I could clearly see the person inside my head. When this person mindspoke there was no question that it was the exact person standing before me now. Why have we never met? the Jack look-alike asked.
My knees buckled. This person before me, with hands identical to those that have held me and brushed hair from my face. Hands that have held my own, that have grazed my lower back. Those same, but different, hands caught me as my legs betrayed me and I slumped to the ground.
He supported my back and brought me back up. My face was inches from his. I couldn’t keep my fingers from reaching out to trace the outline of his cheekbone. It was Jack. But it wasn’t. Everything but the way his hair was cut.
Before I could recover, a group of men and women entered the room. Some were dressed in black suits, others wore blue scrubs and white lab coats. My eyes darted from them back to the person in front of me.
Come with me. Jack’s look-alike grabbed my hand and led me to a group of teenagers in the corner.
When I saw their familiar faces, I stopped dead. I curled my trembling fingers into fists.
Dia! he mindspoke.
A redhead turned in her seat, and when she saw me she said, “Holy mother of all that is good and normal in this world!”
“My thoughts exactly,” I whispered, as I looked at the spitting image of Briana Howard, my archnemesis from school. Everything matched, from too much makeup to those
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