I couldn’t imagine living at Lakeside for two years. Surely that was enough to drive anyone crazy—even the ones who were supposedly there already.

The first unoccupied room was the third on the right. The door was open, and a quick glance inside revealed that the room was indeed empty.

Four doors down on the left was the other unoccupied room, and I could tell from halfway down the hall that someone was inside—a human-shaped shadow stretched into the corridor, cast by sunlight streaming through a window inside. But that shadow didn’t look like Em’s new body. It was too tall—though that was hard to judge, since shadows stretch.

Em wasn’t alone.

My heart beat in sympathy for her, and my mind raced. Getting her out would be simple. Keeping her out would be more complicated. They knew what name she was living under, and what high school she’d been picked up from.

They’d called Lydia’s parents.

Balancing our human-world and Netherworld problems had just gotten much more complicated.

When I got closer to the open door, I could hear voices. I recognized Emma/Lydia’s, but the other was unfamiliar.

“Do you remember me, Lydia?” The shadow propped hands on broad hips, and triangles of light showed through the loop formed by her arms.

“No.” Another shadow crossed in front of the counselor’s shadow, moving quickly until it was past the doorway. “I don’t remember you because we’ve never met. I’m not Lydia.” The shadow crossed again, in the opposite direction this time.

Emma was pacing.

“You don’t remember being here before?” The counselor’s shadow turned to track Em as her silhouette paced across the small room again. “You’ve only been gone a few weeks....”

“No. I don’t remember that because it never happened. I’ve never been here.” She paused. “Well, I mean, I’ve been here.” When she’d visited me. “But I never lived here.” Emma’s shadow had both hands pressed to her head the next time she crossed the doorway, and I groaned silently. She was making herself sound...unstable. But what else was she supposed to say? A few inaccurately answered questions would make it obvious that she had no memory of Lakeside, even if she gave them the answers they obviously wanted to hear. “And I know I’ve never met you. I’d remember such an unfortunate mole. Have you considered getting that thing checked out?”

I almost laughed out loud.

“Do you want to take a break and calm down?” the nurse asked.

I stepped past the last room before Emma’s and caught a glimpse of a large girl in her late teens sitting cross-legged on her bed. As I watched, she pulled her legs up to her chest and covered both ears with her hands, shaking her head slowly. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

“I amcalm!” Em insisted from the next room. “I just don’t need to be here!”

“You’ve been here before, Lydia. Do you remember leaving? Can you tell me how you...left us? The doors were locked, and no one saw you leave your room, much less the ward.”

Em’s shadow stopped moving and merged with the counselor’s to form one dark blur on the floor of the hall. “For the last time, I’m not Lydia! And if you’d just take a closer look at me, I think you could see that for yourself.”

The counselor’s shadow shifted and stood straighter. “I’m looking. And you look just like Lydia. Exactly like her. How is that possible if you’re not her?”

“I don’t know!” Shadow Em threw her arms into the air. “Maybe I’m her doppelgänger. No, wait, she’s my doppelgänger. She has to be, because I’m older, and it’s not like I just woke up in this body....” Her voice faded into dismay when she realized what she’d said. But then she pushed on with renewed determination and volume. “Because that would be strange and completely impossible to prove. So I’ve totally looked like this my whole life, and I don’t...actually...know how old your Lydia is, but I bet anything she’s at least two years younger than I am. Because Lydia sounds like the name a fifteen-year-old would have.” Her shadow nodded emphatically. “That’s definitely the name of someone who can’t yet drive. And I bet she didn’t have brown eyes. I bet hers were, like, blue, or something. And if her eyes were blue and mine are brown, then I can’t be this Lydia, right? Which means I’m right, and you’re wrong, and also I think you might actually be the crazy one.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or applaud. So I tiptoed closer, sneaking out of habit, though no one could see or hear me. The corner of her room came into sight, but at first all I could see was an open doorway leading to a small bathroom, which I knew from experience would hold nothing at all. Residents had to check out a shower kit every time they wanted to bathe, then return it after each use.

“Oh!” Em shrieked, and I actually jumped, startled. “Also, I probably don’t sound like this Lydia either, do I? I mean, my voice might, but not my speech pattern and vocabulary. She probably didn’t talk much at all, did she? And obviously I talk all the time. I love to talk. Unlike this hypothetical mental patient who stole my face.”

One step closer, and I could see the counselor from behind. She was a slim woman with dark hair, wearing a cream-colored blouse and a navy pencil skirt, ending just above her knees. She held something close to her chest, and with one more step I could identify the edge of a file folder, no doubt containing Emma’s—Lydia’s—file.