She heaves a weighty breath and runs her hands down her face. “I want to help you, but you’re giving me nothing here. I’ve been holding this up on my own longer than just this past week. You’ve been drifting for a while now, letting me plan every practice, letting me lecture the people who aren’t being team players, letting me call and scold the people who miss practice. I’m the one who hustles for potential auditions or gigs.”

I stare at her from the couch, soaking up every last drop of secondhand shame.

“I know you’re going through something,” she continues, “but I can’t keep this afloat by myself with no input or support! We need your energy. We need your loud unfiltered brain. We’re supposed to be in this together.” Her words are so passionate and full of hurt.

I frown, trying not to cry. Her eyebrows come down. “Where are you?” she asks, striding closer. “What are you doing with your face?”

I drop my head into my hands. Where do I even begin?

After a moment she reaches out and touches my arm. I look up to find her sitting on the couch with me. Her expression has softened. “Are you crying? Jesus, Jamie, I haven’t seen you cry since you were nine.”

And now I’m sobbing.

She puts her arm around me. “Jame. Talk to me,” she says softly.

I lift my head and look into her pretty pitch-dark eyes with their perfect liner. “Dawn,” I blubber, “I’m not Jamie. My name is Siri.”

And then I slobber-sneeze in her face.

And holy intercourse, I snotted glitter all over her!

I am mortification incarnate. Dawn blinks and screams bloody murder, scrambling away from me. I keel over and cycle into a bout of hysterical sobs. When I look up, Dawn’s glaring at me with a vase hoisted menacingly above her head.

“Who are you?” she yells. “And why did you look like Jamie? What have you done with her?! Are you a body snatcher? Am I being punked? Is Jamie in the next room? Is this like Men in Black? IS SOMEONE ELSE HERE WITH YOU?”

“What?” I mumble, looking around. “No!”

“Don’t test me. I’m a green belt in karate and I know that’s not that impressive, but I just decided to start a few years ago—don’t think I can’t do damage!”

“Please don’t hurt me!” I yelp, throwing my hands up. “I don’t have any belts! Some weird body-switch thing happened between me and Jamie!”

“Well, it’s not happening anymore! Whatever weird spy technology you’re using must have died! I knew that retreat was sketchy!”

We hold at a weird standoff for ten seconds, me with my hands up and Dawn with her vase, until something clicks in my brain.

“Wait … I don’t look like her anymore?” I slowly stand.