The chest is empty with the exception of a small, bright blue wrapped box with a gold note taped atop it like a card. Jamie reaches for it, but I swat at her hand.

“Jamie, that’s not ours!”

She takes me about as seriously as a two-year-old child, laughing and waving me off.

“Relax, Sier.” She reaches for it again, leaning forward so her entire upper body is inside the chest. She makes contact with it and screams.

“Jamie!” I scream, reflexively grabbing at her waist like she’s falling headfirst into a pit.

Jamie falls backward cackling, the box clutched in her hands.

I drop my hands and scurry away. “Gluteus maximus trench,” I huff. “That could be a weapon of mass destruction. Or a deadly virus. Or—”

Jamie gives me a flat look. “It’s a present, Sier.” She places the box on the floor and pulls off the note. It comes up easy, like a Post-it. The message on it is handwritten and small. Jamie hunches over the gold parchment, her eyebrows furrowing as she reads.

“What the fuck?” she mumbles.

Curiosity gets the best of me. I scoot in to read it with her. Jamie brings it even closer to her face so I have to lean on top of her arm to see it.

Walk with ease in each other’s shoes

Let me help pull off the ruse

We’ll go four days and five long nights

You may tell just one, they’ll see the light

Once you’ve discerned how your counterpart feels

To come back to yourself

Just share something real

You must reunite upon fifth day

Or in this state you’re doomed to stay

Jamie lets the note fall. I watch it flutter to the floor.

“Why does that sound relevant?” Jamie says quietly. She brings herself up into a frog squat and glances around the cabin. “Is someone here?” she shouts.

No one answers. Jamie reaches for the blue box.

“Don’t touch it!” I yelp. “It does sound relevant! I think we should leave!” I stand.

Jamie glowers down at the gift, mumbling something to herself.

“Come on, Jamie, leave it,” I urge.

She doesn’t.

Jamie reaches down and yanks the top off the box. It emits a loud bang as it explodes.

30. A Girl Is on Her Ass

JAMIE

September 3, Thursday Morning

Colorado

I’m on my ass. My ears ring. I stick a finger in one of them and wiggle it back and forth like I’ve seen people getting up after an explosion do in movies.

What the hell just happened? All I can see are sparkles. We’re in a smoky haze of glitter. We were, what, glitter bombed? We’ve been swallowed by a cloud of gold-and-silver shimmering smoke. It’s all I can freaking see.

“Siri?” I yell. I inhale a cloud of gold flakes and proceed to cough my lungs out.