Amber's mother had previously been her father. The two had some similarities physically. Amber couldn't stop staring at the person who was essentially what her father would be like if he was born a girl.
"We'd better get you home," the woman said, helping her up. "Your father...well, you know how he is." Actually, she didn't, but. "I called him at work and he's going to try to get home early." She looked at Amber, concerned. "Now, tell me what's wrong, really?" She said, guiding the girl out of the school.
"You'll think I'm nuts," Amber muttered.
"I'm your mother," the older woman insisted.
"It's like a bad sci-fi movie or something. Everyone thinks I'm someone I'm not."
"Well, who exactly are you then?"
"I look the same, but I don't have the same last name or the same life I remember...but...I know it is crazy, but I think I dropped into some parallel universe. My name is Amber Levine. The school seems the same, except for...well, me."
"So, either you are telling the truth, or very very sick," her 'mother' said, grasping the situation. "Well, I'd rather think you are sane than not." She figured one of two things. Either she was telling the truth, or trying to prove she was would convince her she was sick and needed help. Either of which would be an improvement.
Rebecca Levine-Donovan was a scientist and lecturer at the college. She would approach this from a scientific point of view, the way she'd taught her daughter...or possibly an alternate version of her daughter.
"Just don't tell your father we're doing this. You know how he is...well,perhaps you don't. He would automatically assume you need mental help. And you may."
"So, you believe me?"
"I believe you until I have conclusive evidence. Because I'm your mother," she reminded Amber.
This new mother was strangely comforting in that statement. Her old father was not exactly the trusting type. He was cynical about everything. That was part of his nature.
