3:59

mirror.

A girl. Her.

Before Josie’s brain could even register what she saw, the image was gone and the mirror was just a mirror, reflecting the chaotic mess of Josie’s room.

Josie squeezed her eyes shut, trying to recall what she’d just seen. A girl who looked so much like her, standing in the mirror with her hand outstretched as if she were going to reach through the mirror into Josie’s room.

Just like in her dream. Holy shit. Josie jumped out of bed. Late afternoon light streamed through the slats in her closed blinds. Her heart thundered in her chest and she was breathing heavily. Fear-induced adrenaline raced through her veins, leaving her dizzy and disoriented.

She’d been having another dream. A dream about her, but not her. Just like all her dreams recently.

Except this time when she opened her eyes, she knew she was awake. Wide awake. She knew she saw someone in that mirror. Someone who looked exactly like her. A twin. A doppelganger.

Josie looked at her alarm and caught her breath.

4:00.

That time was familiar. What time was it when she dreamed that Nick had given her the necklace? She vividly remembered the red digital readout on her alarm clock: four in the morning. Which meant she’d had the dream at exactly 3:59.

She tried to think back to the first dream she’d had, the one where she’d been driving a Beemer and had outrun the train at the crossing. It had been the middle of the night and she didn’t think much about what time she’d woken up, but could it have been the same? Could it have happened at 3:59?

Josie’s heart fluttered in her chest. She was having weird dreams, always at the same time. Was she going crazy? Was it just a coincidence?

There is no such thing as coincidence, she said to herself. There must be a logical explanation. This is a pattern, so it must have a reason.

“Calm down,” she said out loud. “Just calm down and you’ll figure it out.”

The words had the desired effect. Josie’s breathing began to normalize. Her pulse slowed; panic and fear ebbed from her mind.

3:59. One minute to four. What was the connection? She just had to think. What was she usually doing at that time? Homework in the library. Hanging out with Madison. Driving to work . . .

Josie groaned. On Monday, she’d gotten stuck behind that train. At 3:59. It was the exact moment her life started to spin out of control. Her brain must have locked on to that time, like it was the last moment of happiness she was ever going to have.

Josie flopped back down onto her pillow and yanked the comforter up over her head. Even her subconscious was sabotaging her. Still, the fantasies of a Nick who still loved her and who gave a necklace to her instead of to Madison were alluring. Josie snuggled into the covers. Maybe she’d just live in those dreams and forget real life altogether.

It couldn’t be worse.

3:59 A.M.

She can feel the dry grass beneath the blanket, practically each individual strand as the weight of her body presses them flat against the ground. Some are thicker than others. Weeds, most likely. Maybe a dandelion or two. But cushy nonetheless, like a pillow from Mother Nature.

She stretches her arms over her head and arches her back. She loves the warmth of the late afternoon sun, and the tickling breeze from the east. She feels so content, so alive, so blissfully happy.

She hears a crunching of grass, and rolls onto her side, propping her head up with her hand. Silhouetted against the afternoon sun, Nick strides across the field.

“Thanks for coming,” she says.

“Of course,” he says with a tight smile. He sits down on the blanket and eyes the picnic basket and thermos of lemonade. “You didn’t have to do all this, Jo.”

“I know.” She sits up and opens the picnic basket, removing sandwiches and potato salad. “But I wanted to.”

She pours lemonade and hands Nick a glass. He doesn’t drink it.

“Is everything okay?” she asks.

He nods slowly but doesn’t look at her. “How’s your mom?”

“Fine,” she says after a suitable pause.

“Do you . . .” His voice trails off. “Do you ever wonder what happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” It’s true and yet it’s not.

He still doesn’t look at her, but his voice is soft. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

He puts the untouched lemonade down on the blanket, leaning it against the basket. “Look, there’s something I need to say to you.”

She catches her breath. “Yes?”

“Jo.” He pauses and swallows hard. “I—”

Josie never heard what Dream Nick was going to say. She bolted upright in bed, wide-awake, as a blood- chilling scream echoed through her house.

ELEVEN

4:00 A.M.

“NOOOOOOOO!”

Josie’s heart thundered in her chest. “Mom?”

“Get off me!” her mom shrieked from her bedroom.

“Mom, are you okay?”

“Get off!” Her mom’s voice cracked. “I don’t know what you’re talking ab—”

She screamed again, a piercing cry of pain and fear, followed by the sounds of a struggle and something smashing against the floor.

“Mom!” Josie leaped out of bed, and sprinted across her room and down the hall. A high-pitched shriek froze Josie in her tracks. Muffled and distant, it sounded like an animal, definitely not Josie’s mom. The unexplained attacks flashed into her mind. Could the police have been right? Some kind of exotic cat killing people in the night? If so, how the hell did it get into the house? And how was she going to save her mom?

Josie grabbed a vase off the table in the hallway. Maybe she could distract the animal long enough to get her mom out of the house? It was the best plan she could think of as she barreled into her mom’s bedroom and flipped on the light switch.

A single bulb illuminated the room, instead of the usual two; one lampshade had been knocked askew, exposing the bare bulb. The matching lamp, which had stood on the nightstand closest to Josie’s mom, lay broken on the floor. Josie blinked, her eyes adjusting to the bright ball of light before her, and through the fluttering of her eyelids, saw her mom alone in bed. Her eyes were clenched shut, her arms flailing around her as if trying to fend off an unseen assailant.

“I don’t know!” her mom repeated, her voice a mix of panic and pleading. She paused, then spoke again more frantically as if in answer to an unspoken question. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” She gasped, her arms frozen above her; then she rolled up into the fetal position, covering her head with her arms. “No! No, please!” she sobbed.

“Mom?” Josie dropped the vase on the bureau and dashed to her mom’s side. “Mom, are you okay?”

Her mom continued to roll from side to side, pawing at the air. “Get it off! Get it off me!”

“Mom, it’s a dream. It’s just a dream.” Josie reached out her hand and laid it on her mom’s leg.