Page 2 of Big Switc

“The box is sealed.” She plops down on my bed, tossing it between us.

“Gimme.” I open it up and dive in. Tess plucks a chocolate out of the box and pops it in her mouth. For a second we just close our eyes and make yummy noises.

“What did your parents say?” Tess says around a gooey mouthful.

I cringe a face. “I kind of…haven’t told them.”

“Really?” she gapes.

I shrug. “They already think I’ve lost my mind.”

“You don’t think it could be true?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“You don’t look so sure.” Dang it, she knows me too well.

“I’m just a bit shaken up,” I say with another halfhearted shrug, trying to convince myself as well as my bestie. “Tess,” I lower my voice, “you should’ve heard this girl. This Rosemary Hardin. She knew so much about my life. My exact date and time of birth, the hospital where I was born…”

“All stuff that can be found online?”

“Yeah. It was still super creepy.”

“Why would she lie?”

“Same reason everyone lies. To make my dad look bad. To milk him for something. Blackmail, revenge, both. Who knows,” I say.

“Your parents would be so devastated,” Tess says reflectively, popping another candy into her mouth. “Imagine, you, being someone else’s kid. You’re like, their princess.”

“Thanks, I hate it,” I say with a laugh. She giggles a little, too.

We lapse into the kind of quiet that’s only really comfortable when you are best friends. Feeding our chocolate cravings. In the living room, I can loudly hear my brother, Roman, and his friend Alex doing lord-knows-what. Being obnoxious noisy boys.

“Hazel…” Tess says softly, like she isn’t even fazed by their ruckus.

“Hmm?”

“What did you say the girl’s name was?”

“Rosemary Hardin, why?”

“I think I know that name.” Tess reaches into her purse, fishing out her cell phone. I pull a face. The heck is she doing? “Look at this,” Tess says. She tap-tap-taps on her phone screen and then turns it toward me.

“That isn’t her.” I shake my head. “This girl sounded younger, like our age.”

“No, I know,” Tess explains, “this is Marjorie Hardin, a farm wife with three daughters. Sort of a famous figure on Instagram.”

“You think Rosemary’s mom is an influencer?”

“Her hubby is kind of hot,” says Tess, not answering as she scrolls looking for a pic. “See for yourself. That’s Marjorie with Hank.”

I rear my head back. “That’s supposed to be my father?” I ask, giggling again.

“Oh yeah, oops!” Tess cracks up, scrolling further before I even have a chance to get a look at the guy. “Whoa.” She stops abruptly.

“What?” I’m sure she’s messing with me. But when her eyes come back up to lock with mine, they’ve all but doubled in size.

“Their daughters…Hazel, you look exactly like them. At least”—she points the screen at me again, practically thrusting the phone into my face, and my heart sinks deep in my belly like an anchor dropped—“you look like two of them.”

I stare at it, closely, speechless.

The other sister, the one in the middle, with her dark auburn hair and green leaf eyes—looks just like Mom.

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