“I went to Berkeley?”
She nods, and the nausea sets in again. Nobody in the real world even knows I got into Berkeley. I told them I didn’t. I went to the University of Illinois with Ryan instead.
“Bridget,” I start slowly. “There’s another, different world out there. One where I’m an accountant, and I don’t have a Lakeville mansion. I’ve been living in the city with Connor.”
Her nose scrunches. “Connor who?”
It’s uncanny, staring my puzzled friend in the face and giving her the name of the man whose birth chart she’s memorized. “Connor Reynolds. He went to Lakeville East?” As she stares off, trying to remember him, I explain, “We’ve been together for a little over four years. Well, weweretogether. We broke up last night.”
Despite hearing of our relationship seconds ago, she’s appalled. “On your birthday?”
“He told me he’s moving to New York. For a job. Out of nowhere.”
Bridget clicks her tongue, shaking her head in disapproval. “Rough.”
“Not great,” I agree.
Giddiness creeps into her voice. “Who amIin this other world?”
“You teach kindergarten,” I tell her, and after learning about Ryan’s MASH life, I’m half expecting Bridget to tell me she’s joined the circus.
“Wait,” she gripes. “I’m the same? How does that work?”
“I don’t know, but I need your help to figure it out. I need to get back to my real life. Where I have real problems to solve.”
Bridget scans the paper. Her eyes flash to me.
I swallow hard. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
Her features soften. She looks out at the tree house her parents can’t bring themselves to take down, then turns back wearing the same small smile she wore when I told her I was going to summer school. For fun. “No, Ruby,” she says. “Not in the least. But on the off chance that you really are stuck inside a game—which sounds pretty sick, if you ask me—and you want to get out for some reason, then, yeah.” She shrugs. “I’ll help you.”
Tears sting at my eyes. Our friendship has always been the unconditional kind, and it turns out we’re all-in across universes, too.
“Except, what about this world?” Bridget asks. “If you leave, will I lose you?”
I hadn’t thought of that. “You’ll be with me there,” I promise, although I’m not certain of anything. For all I know, it’s aFreaky Fridaysituation, and MASH Me is out there wreaking havoc on my real life, having bedazzled all my blazers.
Bridget nods. “Okay. What’s your plan?”
Plan.My favorite four-letter word.
“Well, I thought I might toss the game into a fire. Try to break the spell, or whatever.”
“But it could be a puzzle,” Bridget says, eyes twinkling. “Or a map.”
I grin. I knew she’d get it. “Exactly.”
She studies the paper. “Maybe we need to play a new MASH game with each part of your other life inside it. And keep playing until you land on all of them.”
“Bridget!” I grab her arms. “That’s genius.”
We sit cross-legged on her bed and play a MASH game with Connor, accounting, and my trusty Nissan as key players. We play again. And again. We chug Kool-Aid. We try different colored gel pens. And when at last, nearly an hour later, I manage to land on every part of my reality, we leap off the bed in celebration.
Bridget sets a candle inside a sesame-seed bagel. I make a wish and blow it out.
Nothing.
“Maybe you need to be at Curly’s?” Bridget says.
