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  CHAPTER 1

  “Mom, where does this go?” shouted twelve-year-old Beth Picard. She gripped a large cardboard box in her arms and stood inside the empty hallway of her new house.

  “What’s it say on the top?” Beth’s mom called back from the living room.

  Beth glanced down at the box. “ ‘Kitchen,’ ” she replied.

  “I’ll give you three guesses as to which room it belongs in,” Beth’s mom replied. “And the first two don’t count!”

  “Very funny, Mom,” Beth said as she headed to the kitchen and placed the box on top of two other boxes, forming yet another cardboard tower growing out of the kitchen floor.

  Beth and her mom were excited about moving into their new house. It had been built a few years ago and had only one set of previous owners. Even the paint on the walls still looked spotless. It felt like a fresh start for both of them.

  Beth’s mom had just started a new job. Beth was looking to make new friends and move on with her life, following . . . well, following whatever had come before—something she was not too clear about.

  Beth hurried back out to the moving truck they had rented, climbed up the metal ramp, and grabbed another box. As she headed down the long front walkway, past hedges and flowering trees, she was about to call to her mom again. Instead she stopped just outside the front door and glanced down at the label on the top of the box. It said BETH’S BEDROOM.

  Beth smiled as she walked into the house and headed up the stairs, proud of herself that she didn’t have to ask her mom about every box she carried in.

  Beth knew that her mom was a very organized person. At least that’s what her mom liked to say about herself. She had told Beth that when she packed up their stuff at their old house, she made sure to group every box according to room. Then she made a label for each box to take the guesswork out of the unpacking process.

  Beth took her mother’s word for the fact that she was organized. In fact, Beth took her mom’s word for just about everything. For reasons she didn’t understand, Beth had trouble recalling the past. She searched her mind, trying to remember helping her mom pack up their old house, but could conjure no images of that or anything else from before. Beth couldn’t even recall what their old house looked like.

  More to wonder about, I guess, she thought as she stepped into her new bedroom and placed the box onto her bed.

  Turning around, Beth caught a glimpse of herself in a full-length mirror leaning against a bedroom wall. Sunlight streaming through the window highlighted the spattering of freckles on her face. She shook her head, sending her shoulder-length auburn hair whipping back and forth.

  As Beth was about to turn away and head back downstairs to grab another box, she caught another glimpse of herself in the mirror. In the glass she saw her reflection looking into another mirror, in which she saw herself looking into yet another mirror, and on and on, as if she were in a carnival fun house.

  What? she thought, peering into the mirror at the multiple versions of herself. She leaned in closer and saw all the images of herself in the many mirrors lean in as well. She shook her hair again, and strands of copper-colored waves flowed back and forth in each mirror image.

  Beth turned away and glanced back quickly, as if she was trying to catch herself, or trying to trick the mirror into going back to normal. Her mirror was still filled with multiple, endless images of herself, extending off into infinity.

  Deep into the strange mirror, way off in the reflected distance, Beth could see the tiniest image. But it wasn’t an image of Beth, and it wasn’t moving as Beth moved. It was of someone in a long white coat. The woman appeared nervous, looking back over her shoulder again and again. Beth leaned in even closer to the mirror, so that her nose was touching the glass. And that’s when the woman vanished from the reflection.

  Beth had had enough. She didn’t know if she was hallucinating or what, but it was time to get more boxes. When she turned away from the mirror, all of the other Beths turned with her—all except one who stood still, staring straight out. Beth squeezed her eyes shut tightly, then threw them open quickly. The multiple images were finally gone. The single reflection of Beth, staring wide-eyed at herself in her bedroom, was all that remained.

  She drew a deep breath and sighed.

  “Beth!” her mother called up from the bottom of the stairs. “There’s someone here to see you, honey.”

  I need some sleep, Beth thought, turning away and heading out of her room. Before she stepped out into the hallway, she whipped around quickly to make sure again that just one image filled the mirror. It did.

  A few moments later Beth came face-to-face with a girl her age, standing on the front steps.

  “Hi, I’m Chrissy Walters,” said the girl. “I’m your neighbor. I just stopped by to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

  Beth smiled and said hi back.

  Chrissy had short blond hair and two different-colored eyes—one blue and one hazel. Beth thought that was totally cool.

  “I’m Beth Picard,” said Beth. “And this is my mom.”

  “Nice to meet you,” said Chrissy. “I’ve lived in the house next door for about six months. Your place has been empty all that time. I’m so glad you moved in, especially because we’re the same age, I think.”

  “I just turned twelve yesterday,” said Beth.

  “Happy birthday!” said Chrissy. “I turned twelve a few weeks ago.”

  “Come into the kitchen, Chrissy,” said Beth’s mom. “We can’t offer you anything but a glass of water, but you’re welcome to sit on a packing crate.”

  Beth, her mom, and Chrissy all headed down the hall and into the large kitchen, where they found stacks of boxes, a few packing crates, and two glasses sitting on the counter.

  “We haven’t started unpacking the kitchen yet,” explained Beth’s mom. “Just a glass for Beth and a glass for me. Here, let me get you one.” She popped open a cardboard box and unwrapped a water glass, then she filled all three glasses with water from the faucet.

  “So you only moved into your house a few months ago?” Beth asked Chrissy.

  “Yeah, I know a few kids from school, but it’s nice to meet someone who lives just next door,” said Chrissy.

  “Where did you live before this?” Beth asked.

  “California,” replied Chrissy. “My mom’s job moves us around a lot. How about you? Where did you live before this?”

  “We lived . . . uh, we lived . . .” Beth stammered and then stopped short. She hit another brick wall in her memory. Try as she might, she could not come up with the name of the town she and her mom had just moved from.

  “Rockport.” Beth’s mom jumped in. “About an hour from here. On the other side of the city.”

  “Oh, yeah, Rockport,” Beth agreed, although the name of the town meant nothing to her.

  “Did you forget where you’re from?” Chrissy asked, tilting her head curiously.

  “Beth was in an accident a few months ago, Chrissy,” her mom explained. “Sometimes her memory is a bit fuzzy. But the doctors assured us that it will clear up with time. Right, honey?”

  “Right,” agreed Beth. “That’s it. My accident.” Though, in truth, Beth had no memory of having had an accident or seeing a doctor.

  Beth’s mom smiled at
her and got up.

  “Well, I’ll leave you two girls to get to know each other better,” she said. “I’ve got about a million boxes still to unpack. Nice to meet you, Chrissy.”

  “Nice to meet you, too, Ms. Picard,” said Chrissy.

  “So maybe we’ll be in the same class at school,” said Chrissy when Beth’s mom had left the kitchen. “That would be fun.”

  “Actually, my mom is going to homeschool me,” Beth explained. “She works the night shift doing medical research at the lab a few blocks from here four nights a week, but she teaches me before she leaves every evening.”

  “Oh,” said Chrissy, unable to disguise the disappointment in her voice.

  “But we could hang out together every day when you get home from school and on weekends,” Beth added quickly.

  Chrissy smiled. “That’s great! So what kinda stuff do you like to do? I love reading, playing soccer, and watching movies.”

  “I like, um, all that stuff too!” Beth replied, not quite sure what she liked to do.

  “But you must spend a lot of time alone,” Chrissy added. “Especially at night, with your mom working and all. Is she okay leaving you alone?”

  “Actually, there’s going to be a babysitter who stays here every night,” Beth explained.

  “Is she cool?” Chrissy asked.

  “I don’t know yet,” said Beth. “My mom has to find someone now that we’ve moved. It’s a little immature, I know, to have a babysitter at our age, but since my mom works overnight, she doesn’t want me home alone all the time.”

  “That makes total sense,” said Chrissy. “I just hope your babysitter is cool, for your sake.”

  “I’m sure she will be,” said Beth. “My mom said I can help her choose the right babysitter. Anyway, I’m really glad you want to be my friend, Chrissy.”

  “Me too,” said Chrissy. “I gotta get home now. But maybe we can hang out tomorrow.”

  “Great,” said Beth.

  Both girls headed outside.

  “Bye!” said Beth, waving as Chrissy headed to her house.

  Beth’s mom stuck her head out the front door.

  “She seems like a very nice girl,” she said. “And it makes me happy that you’ll have a friend close to home. Now, young lady, back to the boxes!”

  Beth climbed into the moving truck and picked up another box. She was starting not to mind so much that she had trouble remembering the past. Here she was in a nice new house, with her mom, and she’d already made a new friend.

  Beth Picard was determined not to dwell on the past. From now on she would set her sights squarely on the future.

  CHAPTER 2

  ALMOST ONE YEAR LATER . . .

  Beth raced down the hall, pausing every few seconds to look back over her shoulder.

  She’s still after me, Beth thought, picking up her pace.

  It didn’t make logical sense, but the faster Beth ran, the closer the girl in the mirror at the end of the hallway came toward her. And everywhere Beth turned, the mirror and the girl in it followed. Beth stopped short, but the girl in the mirror kept running, getting closer and closer. Spinning back around, Beth found herself staring into a blank wall, as if the hallway she had just come down had vanished.

  Who is she . . . and why is she following me?

  A door suddenly appeared on Beth’s right. She yanked it open and sped through the doorway, slamming it behind her. Beth breathed a sigh of relief. But when she eyed the room she had just stepped into, she was faced with mirrors on every wall. Even the ceiling was totally covered in mirrors jutting out at every angle.

  And in each mirror she saw the girl. She knew the girl. That much was certain. But how? From where? Who was she?

  Suddenly, impossibly, one of the images of the girl popped out of a mirror in the ceiling and dropped to the floor in front of Beth. From this close, she recognized the girl. She looked exactly like Beth.

  What is going on?

  The girl said nothing but stared at Beth with a puzzled look on her face. Then she reached out suddenly, grabbed Beth’s arm, and said, “You’re coming with me!”

  “Nooo!” Beth screamed.

  When she stopped screaming, Beth realized that she was awake in her bed with her eyes wide open.

  It was just another dream, she thought, as her heart pounded away in her chest. Why do I keep having them?

  Rubbing her eyes and trying to shake the bad dream from her mind, Beth climbed from her bed and walked to the bathroom. She had woken up only a few minutes before her alarm was about to go off. Soon it would be time to begin her daily homeschool lessons with her mom.

  Bad dreams aside, Beth was happy in her new life. In the year that had passed since she and her mom had moved into their house, Beth had become comfortable with her routine: school lessons in the morning, hanging out with Chrissy in the afternoon, homework in the evenings, and then bed when her mom went to work and Joan, the overnight babysitter, arrived. Life was pretty good.

  Especially because Beth and Chrissy had become great friends.

  But the best part of the past year was the fact that Beth’s memory problems seemed to have disappeared. She still couldn’t conjure up memories from before the move, but she tried not to dwell on that, especially because everything that had happened to her during the past year, down to the tiniest detail, remained sharp in her mind.

  She could remember the shapes of the snowflakes during the first snowfall at her new house and building a snowman with Chrissy. She remembered the day they painted her bedroom a shiny purple and the day she decided she hated it and then repainted it lime green.

  After breakfast that morning Beth and her mom settled down at the dining room table, books spread across its gleaming oak surface.

  “Okay, let’s go back to the chapter on Native American history,” said Beth’s mom, flipping open her book. “I think we left off with the evolution of the Cherokee Nation.”

  “Yup,” said Beth. “Right here in chapter five, the ‘Principal Chiefs of the Cherokee Nation.’ ”

  “What can you tell me about the leaders of the Cherokee Nation East?” Beth’s mom asked.

  “Chief Black Fox was the first great leader of the Cherokee Nation East in the early 1800s,” Beth reported. “He was one of the signers of the Holston Treaty and led the tribe for a decade.”

  “Excellent,” her mom said.

  Beth grinned proudly. Native American history was a topic that she really enjoyed.

  “Let’s move on to the Lakota,” said her mother, but Beth made no move to turn the page. “Beth, are you okay?”

  “What?” Beth replied absentmindedly.

  “Am I boring you?” her mom asked, sarcastically. “You’re usually very interested in history.”

  “What? Oh, I’m sorry, Mom. I just had a thought that took me away for a minute. It’s funny, but I know more about the history of people who lived hundreds of years ago than I do about my own history.”

  Beth’s mom squirmed a bit in her seat. “But your memory has gotten much better,” she said, unable to disguise the disappointment in her voice.

  Beth felt bad, hearing her mother sound upset. She knew her mother wanted nothing more than for Beth to be happy, and she was. She just couldn’t help but wonder about her past. She also wondered if her missing memories would haunt her for the rest of her life.

  “You’re right,” she told her mom. “It has, as far as remembering the events since we’ve been here. But it still feels weird not to remember anything before that.”

  “I know, honey,” Mom said, her tone now much more sympathetic. “That accident robbed you of a lot. But think of all you have now. A nice home. A good friend.”

  “Absolutely,” Beth said, smiling. “Okay, no more feeling sorry for myself. Back to history.”

  When the morning’s lessons were over, Beth and her mom took a ride into town for a shopping trip.

  “I’m psyched about getting my new shoes,” said Beth as she and
her mom stepped into the local shoe store.

  “Me too,” said her mom. “I can’t remember the last time I bought myself a pair of shoes.”

  Beth and her mom wandered through the aisles pulling out boxes of shoes.

  “I love these!” Beth squealed, slipping on a pair of bright orange sneakers. “Chrissy has a pair just like them, and she said everyone at her school is wearing them.”

  Beth’s mom rolled her eyes but then shrugged. “Okay,” she said. “I’m glad you like them. Now it’s my turn.” She headed down the women’s aisle.

  “I need to run next door for some new sunglasses,” Beth called out to her mother. “I’ll be right back.”

  Beth’s mom stopped what she was doing.

  “Wait for me, please,” she insisted, sounding uncharacteristically stern.

  Beth sighed. “Whenever we go anywhere, you never let me out of your sight even for a minute. I’m not a baby, you know, Mom. Don’t you trust me?”

  “Of course I trust you, honey,” Beth’s mom replied. “It’s just, you know, things can happen. What can I say? I’m a worrier. Please wait. I’ll only be a couple of minutes.”

  “Oh, all right,” Beth said. Now it was her turn to roll her eyes.

  Chrissy’s mom isn’t overprotective like my mom is, she thought.

  Beth slumped into a chair and stared out the window. She watched people walk by, thinking about how they could go where they wanted, when they wanted. She wished, for a moment, that she was someone else. Anyone else.

  “Look at these, Beth,” her mom said a few minutes later.

  Beth turned back from the window. Her mom extended her feet, revealing a pair of white tennis shoes.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  “You look like you’re ready for a tennis match,” Beth joked, smiling. “Either that, or you’re going to work as a nurse.”

  “Well, I do work in a medical research lab, you know,” her mom replied. “I’m on my feet a lot.”

  “I know, Mom,” Beth said. “I’m just giving you a hard time. They’re nice.”