Susan had never felt so close to her daughter before. It was like all of a sudden they were operating on the exact same frequency. She couldn't stop talking as the two got in her car and drove home, and Sarah was hanging on her every word. Sarah, for her part, felt like constantly being talked at like Susan was doing should be exhausting, she wasn't some kind of social butterfly like... the thought eluded her. There was someone else she was comparing herself to. But it didn't matter, nobody outside of the car mattered. It was like every word that left Susan's lips was another amp charging Sarah's internal batteries, and she just got more and more excited the closer they got to the McMillan house. They closer they got to home.
But as they pulled up to the driveway, Sarah's heart sank. There was someone waiting on the front porch. Someone who looked sweaty, and out of breath, and whose clothes were expensive, but disheveled. Someone who looked exactly like Sarah did. And then she remembered.
The original Sarah. No, Sarah didn't like how that thought made her feel. The other Sarah. The one that had disappeared after making a wish just before Sarah's mom had come home.
Sarah didn't like it.
Susan got out of the car first with a suspicious squint in her eye as she looked at the girl standing by the front door. Still in the car, Sarah had to think quickly. Wishes were working, but in a strange way. What would happen if... "I wish Mom would defend me as her real daughter unconditionally," she said under her breath as she opened the passenger-side door.
"Who are you?" Susan demanded of the Sarah that was on the porch.
Sarah balked, an exasperated fist tapping against her own chest. "I'm Sarah. Your daughter???"
"No you're not," Susan responded derisively, blowing the wind from Sarah's sails. "This is Sarah," Susan pointed to the girl by the car. "This is my daughter."
Despite knowing that this must be from her wish, the Sarah at the car felt a sense of honor at being identified as Susan McMillan's daughter. If there had been any question before, now she knew. Susan had said it, so it must be true.
The other Sarah, however, the one at the door, felt the opposite happening. As confident as she was that she was, and always had been, Sarah McMillan, Susan's words had caused a tiny sliver of doubt to form at the back of her mind. The idea that Susan may have been tricked didn't enter into the equation. Susan, Sarah knew, was in control. So if she said something, she must have a reason to say it.
"I..." Sarah wasn't sure how to respond. Then she shook her head. She was in her room with Jon Gibson, when suddenly Jon had turned into a girl, and then out of nowhere Sarah found herself halfway across town with no purse, no keys, and no phone. She had run all the way home just to find it empty and locked. She had waited, not quite patiently, for someone to come home and let her in. And now she had to deal with this? No, this was her house. That was her mom. Whoever that imposter was, it was probably because of-- "It's Jon Gibson. He's done something. He's trying to replace me!"
For a split second, a wave of memories passed over the Sarah that was by the car. The other Sarah was right. She was replacing her. But had she meant to do that?
"I don't know what you think you're doing," Susan's commanding voice brought both Sarahs back in line, "but if you are looking for Jon Gibson you will not find him here. I strongly suggest you try finding him at his house. It's late now, he is probably in his bedroom. That is the first place I'd look if I were you."
Sarah took a deep breath. She wasn't leaving. This was her house. She was exhausted, and her legs were sore already. She wasn't going to just walk away because her mom had some delusional--
"Go. Now."
Sarah's legs were moving before she could even process the command. She didn't want to leave. She didn't know why she was leaving. But she found herself giving her mom and her doppelganger a wide berth as she descended the two steps off of the porch and stepped across the grass. As she reached the street, she turned around and started walking at a brisk pace that made her legs cry out with each step. But she couldn't stop. Where was she going? Jon Gibson's house? Did she even know where it was? It didn't seem to matter. Susan was in control.
