With renewed confidence, Josie helped herself to a piece of toast. Her stomach was in knots and she prayed the sustenance would calm her nerves.
Mr. Byrne ate in silence, fingering his tablet on the table next to his plate. Josie didn’t say a word. This seemed to be their normal morning routine, and she didn’t want to do anything out of the ordinary.
“Are you going to see Nick after school today?”
“I think so,” Josie said.
“Good. I like that boy, despite what happened.”
“And it was nice of him to return the necklace to you.”
Mr. Byrne shoved the last morsel of toast into his mouth and drained his coffee. “Remind him about my offer, will you? Could really use a boy like that around the office. A government job right out of high school is an excellent opportunity, even if he has to work a few years at the Grid before he could transition into my department.”
Josie’s head was spinning as Mr. Byrne stood up and walked around to her side of the table. Something happened? What was the Grid? And Nick
“Have a fantastic day, princess.” Mr. Byrne planted a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll be home late, so don’t wait up.”
TWENTY-ONE
7:15 A.M.
JOSIE’S MIND WAS A BLUR BY THE TIME SHE CLUMSILY grouped together what she assumed were her school things and closed the door to Jo’s room behind her. She was missing a piece of the puzzle. Had Jo not told her something? Or was she blowing Mr. Byrne’s comments completely out of proportion?
Josie slipped Jo’s cheat sheet out of her satchel as she headed downstairs. “Car’s in the garage off the laundry room behind the kitchen.” Got it. She took a right into the kitchen and tried to look easy and casual as she passed Teresa. The housekeeper stood at the sink meticulously washing the breakfast dishes. She didn’t look up as Josie walked by.
As in every other part of the house, bright lights flooded the Byrnes’ garage, glistening off the chrome fixtures. But Josie barely noticed the flood of lights. Her eyes were locked on the sleek black car before her.
The two-door BMW coupe looked as if it had just come off the showroom floor. Gleaming black with enormous performance wheels and a smoky glass moonroof, it looked like something James Bond would drive. She climbed into the leather driver’s seat and sat there, afraid to touch anything. While her old Focus had exactly two buttons on the dashboard—air-conditioning and hazard lights—Jo’s 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 facade, 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 top of the stairs.
She froze, staring at him. He looked exactly as Josie had seen him in her dreams. The two Nick Fiorinos could have been carbon copies of each other. Black, wavy hair left slightly long so the thick strands were able to curl up in heavy coils behind his ears. Dark brown eyes, almost black, and heavy eyelashes longer than any boy had a right to. Strong nose and chin, right out of a Roman sculpture.
Josie felt her hands trembling and prayed she hadn’t broken out in a sweat. The last time Josie had spoken to her ex-boyfriend face-to-face, he’d been shirtless in front of Madison’s house, pounding on her car window, an image Josie wanted to douse with mind bleach.
But this Nick wasn’t her ex-boyfriend. He was her boyfriend. She’d been in love with Nick for as long as she could remember and here, for twenty-four hours, she could fix what was left broken between them.
Nick closed his locker, and turned to find Josie staring at him. His eyebrows pinched together, obviously confused. “Jo?”