Nine
I stumble backward and flatten myself against the wall, but the me on the bed doesn’t seem to notice. How is this happening? How am I looking at myself? For a moment I wonder if I’m projecting this entire scene, but that can’t be right. I’m not imagining this. I’m not controlling it. This is real.
Footsteps sound in the corridor, and Vi pokes her head into the room. “I know you’re studying,” she says, “but feel free to join us whenever you want.”
The other me groans and covers her face with a textbook. “The food smells so good,” she says from behind the pages. “I wish I could come down now.”
“Not much longer to go, and you’ll be done with all this extra work,” she says with a smile. “I’ll shout when dinner’s ready. You can join us then.”
She disappears, leaving me with a sense of
