*All right, this one is from Mazie Skiprose's POV*

My room was comfortable, and I took a long shower, enjoying having fun with the different bubbles and scents. I got into linen pajamas, and ate a piece of lasagna. Then I lounged on my bed with a strawberry-banana smoothie, waiting.

Nich came at exactly 11:25. She wore a bright red party dress, and a dark hood that hid her face and hair. She had a large bag draped over her arm, and it seemed to be full. While she smelled of champagne, her eyes were clear, and her voice and movements steady when she said,

"I'm here."

These two words didn't mean anything to me, and I sat there for a long moment before Nich said,

"Oh, Mazie, what are we going to do?"

Then the emotions hit me, and before I knew it I was crying in Nich's arms, letting it all out. Nich's sobs accompanied my own, and I knew that she was crying too. I clutched her close, because she was part of my childhood – something I could hold close even though I was about to die, for I surely was going to die.

When our sobs subsided, I brought out the smoothie, and we drained it, chocking and gasping every few moments. When even those stopped, and the smoothie was empty, I spoke to Nich,

"You will take care of Mother and Walie?"

Nich hesitated. "No. You will."

I stopped and stared at Nich. "What do you mean? I can't win this thing – my father died when he tried . . . what makes you think that I could . . . ?"

Nich patted my hand, knowing that my father was a delicate topic. "No, Mazie," she said slowly "I have no doubt that you could beat it – if not for your father's involvement." Her voice lowered slightly. "It would just be too much of a distraction for you."

I nodded and sniffled. "But there's no way out of it."

Nich's face moved behind her hood, and I thought that she was smiling. "Ah, Mazie, this is where you're wrong. There is a way out, and I have already arranged for it."

I blinked. My mind was fuzzy from all the crying – was I imagining things now, too? "A way out?"

"Yes," Nich said "Mazie . . . before I tell you . . . promise me something."

"What?"

"Promise that you'll do it. No matter what it is – not just for your own good, but for the good of your family, and for me. I have to do this, Mazie, because I cannot live my life as my father's daughter anymore. I do not wish to be his daughter, and, with this act, I pronounce myself not to be. But you must promise me that you will go with it."

I hesitated, looking at Nich. The plan sounded dangerous, and I was ready to say no when I saw the wild look in Nich's eye, and I realized how desperately she wanted me to say yes. I remembered how she had relocated my family, and how worried they would be right now . . . Nich had helped me once – couldn't I help her now, in return?

"All right, Nich," I sighed, putting my face in my hands. "I'll do it."

"Then look at me," she directed in a superior tone "for your troubles end here."

I looked up toward her, and my mouth dropped in surprise and horror as Nich lowered her dark hood.

Nich was a perfect mirror image of my own self.

"Hello," Nich extended a hand to me (my hand, I now saw), using a voice that was not hers (my voice) "I'm Mazie Skiprose."