Gretchen McNeil - 3:59

Then Josie felt it. She was touching Jo’s flesh. Palm to palm.

Josie stared at her hand. She could feel the warmth of Jo’s palm. She was awake, no bones about it. This was real. This was really happening.

She looked up and met the other girl’s eyes. “Jo?”

Jo cocked her head to the side, as if she couldn’t quite understand what Josie said, then her eyes widened. She nodded. Then her lips moved, slowly. Josie couldn’t hear her words; her voice was just a muffled sound through the mirror. Jo repeated it, speaking even slower. Josie could just read her lips.

“Who are you?”

Josie opened her mouth to respond, but the image blurred again. Jo pulled her hand away. Josie did the same, just in time. The image in the mirror rippled, distorting Jo’s face in a squiggly mass of waves, then resolidified until all Josie could see was the pale, panting image of her own face in the mirror.

3:58 P.M.

ONLY AN ACT OF GOD WOULD HAVE KEPT JOSIE away from the mirror at 3:59 the next afternoon. She’d been restless all day at school, barely able to focus on her classes and, for the first time that week, blissfully unaware of the whispers that erupted every time she walked into a room. She didn’t care, not about Madison or Nick or her physics project or her parents’ divorce. She only cared about Jo.

A girl who lived a life that was sort of like hers, but different. Better. A girl who was still Nick Fiorino’s girlfriend.

An idea had taken hold in Josie’s mind. Ever since she’d learned about Nick’s brother, she’d been eaten up with remorse over the way she’d treated Nick the last few months. What if she could go back and change things? What if she could go back and be there for Nick, listen to him when he needed her?

Maybe time travel was out of the realm of possibility, but now there was another Nick. A Nick who still loved her. Maybe she could still be there for him. Fix her mistakes with Nick, even if it was just for one day.

Josie shook her head. She was being totally ridiculous. To do that, she and Jo would have to switch places. Was that even possible?

Josie glanced at the clock. Hurry up! In her hand she held a letter, the contents of which she knew by heart. Since they couldn’t talk through the portal, Josie thought she’d write Jo a note outlining what she knew about the mirror, the flash, and the connection between their worlds. She’d spent her entire lunch hour slaving over it, rewriting it at least three times, to make sure she didn’t sound totally and utterly insane.

Dear Jo ,

Since we can’t really talk, or in case you aren’t in the mirror today, I thought I’d write to you and let you know that I’m real, that this—whatever this is—is real.

I’m not sure where to start but here are the basics. I’m Josephine Byrne but everyone calls me Josie. I live in Bowie, Maryland, I’m a junior at Bowie Prep, and it’s 2013.

I’m not really sure what’s happening to us, but I know it started last week. I was in my car waiting for a train to pass. There was a flash and I think I blacked out or something. Next thing I knew I started seeing you in the mirror and . . . yeah. Then yesterday.

Josie had originally written I started having dreams like I was seeing life through your eyes but she’d deleted that part. She didn’t know if Jo was experiencing the same phenomenon or not, and thought it might be better to leave out the creepy details for now.

Something is connecting us, every twelve hours at 3:59. It’s a portal between our universes, maybe caused by the flash at the train tracks? That’s the only theory I have right now. I don’t know how it happened, but I know that this is real.

I’ll be in the mirror tonight.

Sincerely ,

Josie Byrne

Josie didn’t even need to look at the clock to know it was 3:59. As if on cue, the surface of the mirror rippled and rolled across the pane like the tide washing up onto the shore, then retreating into the sea. When the image came back into focus, Jo stood facing Josie.

She wore powder-blue silk pajamas and embroidered blue slippers. Her hair was brushed up into a high ponytail, and clasped in her hands was a small, white envelope.

A letter.

They’d had the same idea.

Josie smiled. She and her doppelgänger were thinking the same thing at the same time. Jo gazed at the envelope Josie held in her hand, then her eyes met Josie’s and she smiled as well.

Okay , Josie said to herself. Time to see if her theory was sound. She plunged her arm into the gelatinous substance of the portal. She reached all the way through, up to her shoulder, and felt her hand break through to the clean, light air of Jo’s room.

Jo gingerly lifted the letter from Josie’s hand, allowing her fingers to graze Josie’s wrist. She’d done it intentionally, somehow Josie just knew, to make sure the hand was real: flesh and bone. Josie would have done the same. There was a piece of her that still thought maybe this was all a dream. Or a hallucination.

But the sensation of Jo’s fingers touching her skin dispelled any doubts. Josie might not have been able to explain why it was happening, but Jo was real and the portal was real, and the letter that Jo gently placed in Josie’s outstretched hand was certainly, most definitely real.

Josie drew her hand back through the portal into her own world, clasping Jo’s letter so tightly her knuckles ached.

It was a white, rectangular envelope almost exactly like the one Josie had used. Her hands shook as she turned the envelope over and read the clear, steady handwriting on the front:

To the Girl in the Mirror

Josie looked up in time to see Jo’s image begin to blur. She was waving and she mouthed bye as her face faded away and was gone.

Immediately, Josie flopped down on her bed, tore open the envelope, and pulled a handwritten letter from inside.

Hi.

That’s such a ridiculous way to start, isn’t it? I mean, it’s like I’m writing a letter to myself. Only I’m not, am I? Because that would be crazy.

Like this isn’t crazy.

I’m hoping you’ll be there in the mirror again tonight. If for no other reason than to prove to me that I’m not crazy. But just in case you’re not, I’m writing this letter.

I’ll start with the obvious, I guess: Who are you? Where are you? And why is it that I can see you in my bedroom mirror every twelve hours at the exact same time?

I’m Josephine Byrne but most people call me Jo. I live in Bowie, Maryland, I’m a junior at Bowie Prep, and it’s 2013.

If you get this, please write back. That way, I’ll know. Know I’m not crazy, that is.

Though I suppose if you do write back, that’s almost as bad.

Sincerely ,

Josephine Byrne

4:10 P.M.

Josie must have reread the note a dozen times. Josephine Byrne. Same name. Same high school. Same year. Same girl.

The same girl but different. Of that Josie was convinced. Jo still had Nick, while Josie had lost him. She wondered what else Jo had: Were her parents happily married? Was she popular at school? Were they rich? Was she interested in science and math like Josie?

So many questions Josie was desperate to learn the answers to, the most important of which was why this was happening to them in the first place. Maybe together, she and Jo could make sense of what was going on? There was only one way to find out.

It was time she and Jo had a talk. Face-to-face.