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Once I'd turned out their light, I changed into the oversize gray T-shirt (Consuela had washed it) and a pair of sweatpants. It felt like I should be packing, like I should bring a suitcase along for the upcoming voyage back to my body. At least my own stomach wouldn't hurt (though I was worried about my lungs after all the smoking Evelyn had done). There was soda in the refrigerator upstairs; maybe a ginger ale would help settle the clams.

I crept up the stairs to the main level. The great room was just the way we'd left it, only without the sounds of screaming, whining, and moaning. The room was cool and breezy and smelled of the sea. The crashing waves were louder than usual, as if a storm might be moving in. Wonderful. That's all I needed: to switch out of Larissa's body only to get knocked into someone else's. Then again, maybe I'd wind up here again. Hmm ...

I got a ginger ale out of the buzzing stainless steel refrigerator and popped it open. It helped a little. Mr. Sealy's laptop was still sitting on the table. I tiptoed over and touched the computer carefully, as if it might shock me. It didn't. I went to the front door and peered through the peephole: no sign of Mr. Sealy.

My heart pounding, I hurried over to the laptop, opened it up, and hit the power button. It didn't ask for a password; it logged me right on. I shook my head in disgust; people are so naive when it comes to electronic security.

Within minutes I had a new e-mail address and Internet identity: Rapunzel. I hit COMPOSE and entered the e-mail address Larissa's father had given her.

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Dad,

I think there is something u should know. I am not

@ home now. I am in a little town called Sandyland staying w/ the Sealys. I am here 2 babysit their 2 boys but mostly I think I am here so Mom can go on a cruise. Can she do that? Just leave me with other people w/o telling u?

I miss u & I love u.

Larissa.

I hit SEND and ran back to the peephole: still no sign of Mr. Sealy. I couldn't imagine where he had gone. There was nothing open at this time of night except the mini-mart. The thought of him hanging out by the Dumpsters made me smile. Next I crept to the stairs that led up to the master bedroom: no sounds from Mrs. Sealy. Ditto for the boys and Consuela, who, as far as I could tell, shut her door at eight o'clock every night and didn't open it again until morning. She must have a really big bladder.

At the computer, I logged on to my own e-mail account. Whether I liked it or not, tomorrow I'd be Claire again. Might as well start cleaning up the mess Evelyn had made.

Beanie.

u must think I'm a crazy person, u may be right, LOL. I didn't want 2 tell u, but this is all part of an experiment I am doing
A
school. I think I want 2 b a psychologist when I grow up so I thought it would

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be fun 2 c how people would react. w8 till u c my hair!

Sorry if I hurt ur feelings. I should have told u sooner, u r still my best friend & always will b.

xo, Claire

I sent the message, knowing that it sounded weak but hoping Beanie wouldn't question it, and did the peephole/upstairs/downstairs routine again before logging back on as Rapunzel.

Nate,

Please don't come by the house. It will only cause trouble. Remember me every time you go to Kimberley Cove. I am closer than you think.

I was about to sign the message from Larissa, but I was already starting to feel jealous of her. Instead, I simply signed it, "Rapunzel."

That's it, I thought:
no more fabulous clothes, no more admiring stares, no more Nate.
If only we'd made plans to meet up later--I could have snuck out. If only I could feel beautiful for a little while longer.

There was no point in stalling. I had to go home.

Five minutes later, the ginger ale finished, the computer shut off, I was back in Larissa's room. I took one last, loving look in the closet mirror before settling into bed and falling into a deep, deep sleep.

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***

22

I knew it before I even opened my eyes. The smell was wrong: new paint instead of faint mildew. The sounds were wrong: muffled waves instead of noisy finches. My stomach was wrong: it still felt slightly queasy, though not as bad as last night. I was still Larissa.

"Nate," I whispered to the empty room.

The boys were letting me sleep in, for once. It was six thirty and they hadn't come in to catch a glimpse of me in my underwear. Of course, I was wearing the gray T-shirt, so maybe they'd already peeked and left disappointed.

I dashed to the closet and checked the mirror. My blond hair was wild from sleep, my cheeks were flushed. I laughed. It was just wrong that anyone could look this good first thing in the morning.
Another day,
I thought. I
get another day.

Imagine you've had this fab vacation--in Hawaii, say, at a hotel with koi ponds and waterfalls--and your suitcase is packed

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and you're all sad about going back to your boring house and your boring school. But then, on the day you're supposed to leave, your mother says, "Surprise! School can wait--we're staying an extra day!" And then you put on your shades and bikini, and you're just exploding with joy because you know that this is going to be the Best! Day! Ever!

That's just how I felt, except for one itty-bitty problem. I wasn't in Hawaii, and I wouldn't be missing school, at least not technically. How much trouble would Evelyn get into today?

I pulled on a hoodie sweatshirt, the plaid sneakers, and a pair of gym shorts that said "Juicy" on the butt. Larissa's cell phone was in the drawer; I stuck it in the hoodie pocket, just in case.

After leaving a note that would probably get me in trouble ("Taking a run"), I jogged through the foggy streets until, sweaty and winded, I reached my house. The sun was just starting to break through. The newspaper was gone from the front walk, which meant my mother was up. But the blinds on my bedroom window were shut even though Evelyn should have been getting ready for school. Swim team trials were today, I remembered with a pang.

I crept around to the back and peeked in a window. My mother, wearing her faded blue flannel bathrobe, was making coffee. Most days she'd be dressed by now.

I tiptoed to the side of the house and pulled out the cell phone.

"Hello?" my mother answered, sounding concerned.

"Hi, uh--Mrs. Martin?" Pretty smooth, pretending not to know she was a doctor.

"Yes?"

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"My name is ..." I looked at the plant next to me. "Rose." Above me, a bird began his morning song. "Rose Finch. I live on the street behind you? Hate to bother you, but I'm expecting a package, and the shipping company thinks they delivered it to your house by mistake. It would be in your garage. Could you check?"

"Of course," my mother said, as I'd known she would. The word no is not in my mother's vocabulary. "If you'll just hang on a minute, I'll--"

"I have to run, but if you'll just leave the package out front, I'll pick it up later. Thanks!" I hung up.

On cue, the back door opened, and my mother, wearing green rain boots with her bathrobe, clomped across the yard to the garage. I ran for the front door, which my mother always left unlocked after bringing in the morning paper.

Evelyn was still asleep, the air around the bed eerily cold. Was Larissa hovering? I wondered. I wished I had worn something nicer than the hoodie. I wouldn't want her to think I was slacking off in the fashion department.

"Wake up!" I whispered, shaking Evelyn.

"Whaa ... ?" She blinked and pushed her newly red hair from her face. My face. "Claire?"

I nodded.

She held up her hands, inspected the nails. (How long had they been red?) She let her arms fall back on the bed and moaned. "Shoot. I was afraid of this."

I opened the blinds, and fog-tinged sunlight flooded the room. "Why are you still here?"

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"You're not going to school today," she said, still lying down. "I was going to tell you--assuming you were yourself this morning. And your mother's not going to work. She scheduled an emergency appointment for this morning. With a shrink. I hate shrinks." She rolled over and closed her eyes. "It didn't go well between the two of us last night. She made a big deal about the cigarettes, and about me missing swim practice and staying out with my friends." Her voice cracked. "I don't think she likes me."

I sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over her. "What I meant is, why are you still
in my body!"

She rolled back and shifted until she was kind of sitting up. "I don't know. It doesn't make any sense. Unless ..."

"What?"

"Unless it's because you really want to stay in that body. Emotions, if they're strong enough, can create a kind of energy all their own. Envy, desire ..." She held my eyes. "Love."

I was beginning to wonder if Evelyn really knew what she was talking about or if she was just making it up as she went along. Besides, I'd had some good times as Larissa, but it wasn't as if I wanted to be her forever. Was it?

"Then there's the deal with your birthdays," Evelyn said, pushing herself up farther. "You two weren't just born under the same moon. You were born under the same sun."

"I was born at night."

"So was she. I asked her. About an hour after you. That's got to make the connection stronger. Still." She tucked a strand of orange hair behind her ear. "I thought you'd be back by now--I

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hoped you would. I got you invited to a party this weekend, and I don't want you to miss it. Besides, I'm not crazy about the whole psychiatrist thing. My last experiences with the mental-health profession ..." She left the sentence unfinished, but I could suddenly see the white coats, the restraints.

"It wasn't you," I said, "was it? The one who went crazy, I mean. The one who got committed and went to the hospital." I began to shake. "You got stuck in someone else's body, didn't you? Didn't
you!"

She stared at the ceiling for a long time before she finally spoke. "It was really me in the hospital. But you're right. I wasn't the one who went crazy."

"So I may be stuck this way?" My voice cracked and my eyes teared up, whether from panic or Larissa's cat allergy, I didn't know. A few more days as Larissa would be okay--actually, it would be fun--but forever?

"This is different." Evelyn shook her head. "Larissa doesn't want your body. And neither do I. No offense."

"What happened to you?" I asked, ignoring the insult.

"I don't like to revisit that time."

"You have to tell me!"

My mother's footsteps sounded on the stairs. Evelyn and I stared at each other, and then I made a dash for the closet.

"You awake?" I heard my mother say through the closed closet door.

"Mm," Evelyn grunted from the bed. "You should get up soon."

"Mm."

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"I'm going to take a shower. Will you be okay until I get out?"

"Mm-hm."

A moment later, I was back by the bed. "You owe me the truth."

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***

23

Here's what Evelyn told me:

Barb Root was born forty-two minutes before her, but they didn't know that until their twenty-sixth birthday, when my grandfather took Evelyn, hugely pregnant with my mother, out for a candlelit dinner. They had just finished their food: baked halibut and mashed potatoes for my grandfather, fried cod and steak fries for Evelyn, coleslaw with both. These were pre-Burrito Bandito days, when nothing said "special occasion" like a big mound of slaw.

After dinner, my grandfather nodded to the waitress. Within minutes she was at the table holding a mongo chocolate cake and singing "Happy Birthday." Evelyn considered her wish. Since she already had everything she ever wanted, she hoped for a healthy baby and an easy delivery.

She took a deep breath, craned her neck over her enormous belly, and--

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"Today's my birthday too!" came a voice from across the room.

Evelyn sputtered, blowing out fewer than half the candles. She was totally freaked out by the interruption. What if she'd blown her chances for a healthy baby and an easy delivery? (The baby was healthy, of course, and the delivery probably wasn't as bad as she said it was.)

Then she looked up at the intruder, a bony young woman with thin lips and a beaklike nose. "She looked like a mean bird," Evelyn told me. "The kind that swoops down and carries off bunnies."

But my grandfather was all, "What a pleasant surprise!" And, "Happy Birthday, Barb!" And, "You must join us!" My grandfather had known Barb Root since they were young, even though she'd been four years behind him in school. Back then, Sandyland was even dinkier than it is now.

Evelyn had grown up in a small city a couple of hours away, far from the ocean. She'd met my grandfather as he was finishing up his medical training at the local hospital. When they'd married, the year before, she'd been happy to move to a small town because there would be fewer women born under the same moon. She hadn't counted on there being so many more thunderstorms closer to the ocean.

And she hadn't counted on Barb Root.

Within minutes the three of them determined that Barb and Evelyn were born less than an hour apart. Barb thought this was nifty. Evelyn, not so much. On the plus side, Barb lived with her mother almost four miles away, up in the hills--too far to switch.