leave. Once the door was shut and we were alone, she bent over me with an anxious expression. “Leah, you have to cooperate.”
I pursed my lips stubbornly.
“I realize you’re punishing me, and I’ll admit that I may deserve it, but this is not about me. I’m fighting for your life and I can’t do it alone. You have to help, too.”
“Give me a phone.”
“You think your friends can help you more than I can? Well, you’re totally wrong. I’m the only one between you and a long, unpleasant stay in a mental hospital.”
“Mental—” I gulped. “—hospital?”
“That’s what your doctor recommends. He thinks you’re deeply disturbed and need months of psychotherapy.” Her fingers trembled as she grasped my hand. “Is that what you want?”
I shook my head, fear rising like waves threatening to drown me.
“Then behave sensibly. It took all my resources to get the authorization to have you released into my care, but if you don’t cooperate, they’ll send you away for a long time and I won’t be able to stop them. Dr. Hodges has this ridiculous notion that you have multiple personalities and he wants to study you in a confined environment. Your father was ready to go along with this plan, but I insisted that all you need is your mother.”
“I’m … I’m not crazy,” I whimpered.
“Of course you’re not. But whatever you said to Dr. Hodges convinced him that you have disturbing mental issues and could be a danger to yourself and others.”
I bit my lip, tasting salty tears. My nightmare was careening out of control, spiraling down a black hole. Mom, Dad … where are you? Please come get me and make everything better.
But it was the other mom who brushed away stray hairs from my face and squeezed my hand. “Don’t be scared, Leah.”
“I’m not Le—”
She didn’t let me finish. “You don’t have to be brave for me. I know you so well, even if you don’t think I do. I realize I’ve been emotionally unavailable, but I’m changing. You’d be proud of how I stood up to your father, just like you’ve always wanted.” She paused, looking down at me as if she expected me to congratulate her.
I closed my eyes, wishing this unreal world away.
“You’re my miracle.” She spoke gently, still stroking my hair. “You came back from that coma even after the doctors said you were gone forever. I will not let them take you from me. But you have to do two things right now.”
I arched my brows, silently asking,
“First, I want you to climb into this wheelchair so I can get you out of this place. Second, it’s imperative for you to behave normally. No more wild talk about not knowing your own family or they’ll lock you away. Can you do that?”
I stared at her through eyes that weren’t my own, shuddering at the threat of a locked room in a mental hospital. I’d seen movies about mental wards with electric shocks and straitjackets, where even the sanest person turned into a drooling zombie. If I told the truth, I was crazy. But if I lied and pretended to be someone I wasn’t, I was sane.
Swallowing hard, I met Leah’s mother’s gaze.
Then I nodded.
8
I realized later, when I woke up in a beautiful and unfamiliar room, that despite my agreement to cooperate, the “vitamins” Mrs. Montgomery instructed the nurse to give me before leaving the hospital were in fact sleeping pills. I vaguely remembered half-crawling into the wheelchair — embarrassed because the nightgown was open in the back and I was mooning the male nurse — then I was out.
The silky, butter-yellow sheets were a definite improvement over the starchy white hospital sheets. And the four-poster bed with its frilly lace canopy was right out of the “Cool Stuff I Can’t Afford” magazines I flipped through when no one else was around. Oooh, so very luxurious. Unfortunately I couldn’t enjoy myself. I just wanted out.
For a desperate moment, I prayed that this was all an outrageous prank. I was the unknowing victim on an extreme reality show like
Only when I glanced down at myself, and saw wavy blonde hair over an elegant, ivory satin nightgown, reality slapped me hard. No matter how many times I wanted to believe this wasn’t happening, it was.
Emotionally I was a wreck, but physically I felt better. Sleep had cleared the cobwebs from my brain and I could move my arms with only minor pain. I tested my legs, wiggling one and then the other. Not bad, just a little stiff. I drew back the gauzy bed curtains, pushed away a satin comforter, and slowly lowered my legs to the plush carpet.
This exertion was more tiring than I’d expected. I paused to catch my breath. Then I lifted my head and looked — really looked — around the spacious room. Despite the utter mess of my life, I couldn’t help but be awed.
Way gorgeous room! Ornate white-gold vanity dresser, entertainment center with everything electronic imaginable, oil paintings by famous artists I’m sure Alyce would know, an L-shaped dark gold couch, and lace- draped picture windows. I had a wild urge to fling open the closet, check out the drawers, and try on all Leah’s clothes. You can bet she’d have an amazing wardrobe: designer everythings from oh-so-fab stores where under normal circumstances I couldn’t even afford to window shop. But these were far from normal circumstances. I was still reeling from the weirdness of being Leah.
A full-length mirror seemed to beckon from across the room.
Like a sleepwalker, I moved toward the mirror.
And I studied Leah.
She looked unusually pale, and younger than I remembered from school. Even without makeup she was stunning: slim, with wavy white-blonde hair and exotic long-lashed blue eyes. Her creamy skin was flawless, free of the pimples that plagued me whenever I was on my period. Her slender arms tapered down to elegant French- tipped nails, and underneath the silky nightgown, tiny, cherry-red polished toenails poked out.
Leah’s body was firm like she worked out, but soft like she never really worked. No scrubbing bathrooms or scouring greasy pans for these baby-soft hands. Leah probably had a housekeeper to clean her messes, a cook to fix her meals, and a personal fitness guru to firm her perky assets.
Thinking of assets … okay, I’ll admit it, I was curious.
Before I could decide if there was something voyeuristic about what I was going to do, I slipped off the fancy nightgown and stood naked before the mirror.
Not bad, Leah, I thought.
The breasts were amazingly perfect, defying gravity and deserving of applause. But were they real or surgically enhanced?
Upon closer inspection, I found faint shadows of twin scars. And while they looked natural, when I touched them they felt hard and unyielding, like if I did jumping jacks, they wouldn’t bounce with me.
Leah looked amazing with or without clothes; tight butt, zero cellulite on firm thighs, and long, athletic legs. A tiny diamond glittered from her pierced belly button, and further down I saw proof that Leah was a natural blonde. The small puff of blonde hair curled in a unique shape. I knew some girls shaved down there, but shaving it into a heart? Now that was just … weird.
Whoa, Leah, what other secrets have you been hiding?
As I stood naked, staring into the mirror, the enormous reality of my changed life crashed into me. I was looking at myself … except I wasn’t myself … not anymore.
