Zion’s mom dropped him off at Stagecoach Pass early Saturday morning, and then Mom took us to pick Connor up at his apartment. He was already outside his door when I walked up the concrete path.

“Hi,” I said, meeting him in front of the apartment as he turned to lock the door.

He struggled with the old lock. “Hey.” He followed me out to the car and peeked his head in the front window. “Hi, Mrs. Green,” he said before getting into the backseat with Zion.

“Hi, Connor,” Mom said and pulled away from the curb. “Are you excited for our little adventure? I know I am—anything to get away from Stagecoach Pass right now and all the craziness of this festival planning. I seriously need a break from that place.”

Connor gave me a hesitant glance. “Aven and Zion won’t tell me where we’re going.”

“Well, then,” Mom said, “I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

Connor seemed relaxed as we drove through Scotts-dale. We spent most of the drive talking about Arizona and how we liked it here.

“I’d never seen a saguaro cactus until I moved here,” I told them, thinking of the great saguaro at the top of my hill. “Well, one that wasn’t me anyway.”

That got us talking about Down and Dirty in Kansas City and the total lameness of Desert Moon Over the Desert again.

It took us a long time to get to the movie theater. As we pulled up in front of it, Connor no longer looked relaxed. I knew he was angry. “Aven, I told you I don’t ever want to go to the movies,” he said, his eyes blinking rapidly, shoulders shrugging.

“Connor, just wait—” I said.

“I’m not going in!” he nearly shouted at me.

Zion slumped down in his seat and stared at his lap.

“Calm down, Connor,” Mom said gently. “We have a special surprise for you. You don’t have to worry about upsetting any other movie watchers.”

Connor huffed. “Of course I do. I can’t go to the movies.”

“Yes, you can,” Mom said. “Don’t you trust us?”

Connor glowered at me, his ticcing increasing by the moment. “Yes, but—”

“But nothing,” Mom said. “Let’s go in. We’re seeing that new sci-fi movie you guys want to see so badly.”

Connor threw his head back against the seat rest and ticced and huffed some more while Mom parked the car. We got out and walked up to the ticket booth, where Mom quietly spoke with the cashier for a minute before buying four tickets to the movie. Connor barked a lot as we walked through the lobby. It was early, though, so only a few bystanders were around to gawk at him. People didn’t seem to notice me at all when Connor was around. I felt bad for Connor, but I also enjoyed the feeling of being invisible.

As we entered the theater, Mom said, “It appears you have your pick of seats.” The theater was completely empty.

Connor looked at me and Zion. I smiled at him. “Mom had to call a lot of theaters until she found one that was willing to let us have the whole theater to ourselves.”

“Are you serious?” said Connor.

“Well,” said Mom, “we couldn’t afford to rent out the whole theater, so it was a lot to ask. But the manager here has a son with Tourette’s and was really understanding. Plus, he said the morning show was usually fairly empty, so we were able to work it out.”

I could see the darkness lift off Connor like a blanket as his eyes lit up. And that alone made everything so worth it. “For real?” he said. “We have the whole theater to ourselves?”

“For real, Connor,” said Mom.

Connor put an arm around Mom’s shoulders. “Mrs. Green, you’re the coolest!”

“I know,” she said casually. “Now you three go and find a seat. I’m going to sit way in the back where I like it.”

“Can we go get some popcorn?” Connor asked, and I knew he must have been incredibly happy to ask for food.

“Heck, yeah,” I said. “I want some popcorn. And some gummy bears.”

“Gross,” said Zion. “You like those?”

“Heck, yeah,” I said again as we walked out of the theater. “I love squishy gummy candies. I love Hot Tamales, too. My dad says I like them because they’re red like my hair and hot like my temper.” I laughed.

Connor grinned. “That’s great to know. We’ll try to stay on your good side.”

“Who says you’re on it?” I narrowed my eyes at the two of them.

“I was just hoping we were.” Connor shrugged his shoulders and blinked, but it made me happy to see that, despite being out in public, his tics weren’t completely out of control. I hoped that meant he was starting to feel a little more comfortable.

“I bet your parents want to see this movie, Zion,” I said.

“Are you kidding? They went to the midnight showing on opening night. They waited in line for like four hours, too.” He rolled his eyes. “And they wore costumes.”

Because it was so early, we didn’t have to wait in line to get our snacks. Mom had given me some money that morning, and I told Zion to reach his hand inside my purse and get it out. I also let the boys handle the transaction. It was kind of nice not having Mom there, making me do everything.

Zion paid for our popcorn, sodas, and gummy bears. Twenty dollars poorer, we headed back to the theater, Connor’s and Zion’s arms stuffed full of treats. Mine . . . not so much. I stopped at the bathroom on the way back so I could wash my feet since I knew I’d be dipping them in the popcorn.

As we sat waiting for the movie to start, the three of us surreptitiously glanced back at Mom sitting in the very back row. “Do you think she might be hiding something from you?” Connor said in a hushed voice. “And why did she cover herself in napkins?”

I giggled. “It’s warm enough outside to wear short sleeves, so she forgets to bring a sweater when we go places, and it’s so cold inside from the AC. She calls the napkins her blankets.” I rolled my eyes. It was even more embarrassing than when my great-grandma in Kansas used a flashlight to get around in the movie theater. “She does it at restaurants, too. At least here no one can see her.”

“Do you think she has any idea at all who that girl might be and she’s just not telling you?” Connor asked.

I looked back at her, all covered in her “blankets,” a goofy smile on her face. “No. I don’t. She seemed totally surprised. My parents would tell me if they had any idea what was going on. She said it’s probably just a coincidence.” I told them about doppelgangers.

“I still don’t buy it,” Connor said. “What are the odds that you would end up here at this park and find your doppelganger?”

“Well,” I said, “I found this article online about these two guys who ended up sitting next to each other on a plane. They looked identical. And then there’s that one movie star who everyone thinks is a vampire because there’s a picture of a man who looks just like him from World War I.”

We lost interest in Mom and plopped back down in our seats. “I know what happened!” Connor suddenly declared, making Zion jump in his seat. “There’s a portal up on the hill. You go through the portal while you’re wearing that necklace you found and go back in time to 1973. While you’re there, you have your picture taken.” Connor looked extremely proud of himself as he barked and said, “That’s it. I’ve totally solved it. You could run into your grown-up self at any time, so you better be careful.”

“Why do I need to be careful?” I asked him. “Is my grown-up self dangerous?”

“Clearly,” Connor said. He looked at Zion for confirmation.

Zion nodded. “Yeah. I’m pretty scared of grown-up Aven. Why wouldn’t she just come and tell us all of this if she’s wandering around somewhere? I mean, you’d remember us, wouldn’t you?” Zion asked me, like what we were talking about was actually true.

“Maybe she’s dead,” Connor said.

I smiled at him. “Rodeo clown mafia?”

“Totally.” We giggled.

I stuck a piece of popcorn in my mouth with my foot and chewed. “I really love this whole theory. Especially since this magical portal makes me grow arms.”

Connor’s face fell. “Oh, yeah. I didn’t think of that.”

“You never know what a magical portal might do,” Zion said, and Connor’s smile returned.

I decided to take advantage of Connor’s good mood. “So are you coming to the festival or what?” I asked him.

“I already told you.”

“I know, I know,” I said. “Just thought I’d double-check.”

“Well, you can stop double-checking,” Connor said, “because the only way I’d go into a crowd like that would be if someone, like, tied me up and dragged me there.”

Zion grinned at Connor. “Don’t give her any ideas.”

Zion seemed to know me pretty well already.