So I guess the boy isn’t mirror-Jonah.

And the girl isn’t mirror-me.

Still, we could be twins.

I’ve always wanted a twin. How cool would that be? I could dress her in my outfits to see how I look. We could pretend to be each other! We would totally share a room and have a bunk bed.

She better let me sleep on top.

Behind me, Prince lets out a frightened bark. He cowers behind my legs, clearly as freaked out as Jonah and I are at seeing our doubles here in the forest. You think he’d just be relieved he doesn’t have a twin.

“Who are you guys?” I ask the boy and girl at last.

The girl looks at us suspiciously. “I’m Gretel,” she says.

Gretel?

Gretel?!

Her name is Gretel? Oh! Oh! Oh! There is only one Gretel!

“Jonah!” I say. “This is Gretel!”

“Uh, hi?” Jonah says. He raises one eyebrow at me questioningly. “Nice to meet you,” he tells the girl.

“Doesn’t that name ring a bell?” I ask, staring at him. Come on, Jonah. How could he not know instantly who Gretel is? “Hansel and …” I prompt.

The boy crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Hey, how do you know my name?”

Jonah’s face falls. “No! You’re not Hansel! Your name is Jack! Jack, I tell you! JACK!”

“Sorry, bud,” I say, and squeeze Jonah’s shoulder. “We’re in Hansel and Gretel.”

“Nooooo!” Jonah says, smacking his forehead. “We were so close!”

The girl and boy turn to look at each other — their expressions saying loud and clear that they think we’re totally cuckoo.

“Do you know our stepmother?” Hansel asks, hiding behind Gretel. “Is that how you know our names? Are you here to hurt us?”

“No,” I assure him. “We don’t know her. We swear. We must have heard your names somewhere else. Hansel and Gretel,” I repeat. “The names just go together. Like peanut butter and jelly.”

“Or French fries and ketchup,” Jonah says. “Or ketchup and basically everything.”

“Right.” I put out my hand. “I’m Abby, and this is my brother, Jonah.” Prince peeks out from behind my leg. “And this is our dog, Prince.”

“Hi,” Gretel says.

Hansel steps forward, no longer looking as fearful. “Hi.”

Jonah tilts his head, eyeing Hansel, who’s much shorter than Gretel.

“I thought Hansel was the older one,” Jonah says.

“I thought so, too,” I say. Guess not. And why did I think Hansel and Gretel were blond?

“I’m ten,” Gretel says.

“Me too,” I say.

“I’m seven,” Hansel says.

Jonah lifts his hand for a high five. “Me too!”

Hansel stares at Jonah’s hand, unsure what to do.

“Just slap it,” Jonah says.

Hansel hesitates but finally does it.

“There you go!” Jonah says.

We all stare at one another for a few more seconds. It’s extremely strange to run into kids who look exactly like you. Especially when those kids are Hansel and Gretel. The Hansel and Gretel.