“How do you do the clothes?” Jill asked with amazement, reaching out to touch the pants.

“I don’t know,” Claire admitted. “It must be me. I mean the pink T-shirt and capri pants were under my own clothes.”

“You mean…like this is you?” Jill asked, touching the satin. “Your cells?”

“It must be,” Claire repeated faintly. It was the only thing that made sense. They weren’t really clothes at all, just her body shifting and changing color to look like them. The chameleon effect was there after all. It just wasn’t alone—the ability to shift her shape was there as well.

Jill nodded slowly, then stiffened and said, “Hang on!”

She glanced around with confusion as Jill rushed out of the bathroom. Claire had no idea where the other woman was going, but couldn’t seem to care much at the moment. Her poor mind was struggling to accept her new abilities. She peered at herself in the mirror with fascination until she heard Jill cursing and the sound of thumping and drawers and door slamming in the room across the hall, Jill’s bedroom.

Claire started out of the bathroom, then paused to snatch up her clothes. The last thing she needed was for Kyle to come home and stumble over her bra and panties in the bathroom.

“What on earth are you doing?” Claire asked with amazement as she entered Jill’s room to find it in chaos. Jill was a whirlwind, rushing about her room, searching drawers and closets and tossing things willy-nilly. “What are you trying to find?”

“I had a magazine here,” Jill explained, kneeling to look under her bed. “I know I put it—aha!”

Claire raised her eyebrows at this triumphant cry as Jill dragged a magazine out from under the bed and got back to her feet. It was a celebrity magazine, she saw as Jill began to leaf through it. Suddenly, her friend paused, folded the magazine over, and thrust it forward.

“Try this.”

Claire tossed her clothes on the bed and took the magazine. She peered down at the picture it was open to and blinked, then glanced up, asking with disbelief, “Brad Cruise?”

Jill nodded. “Yes.”

“But he’s a guy,” Claire protested, which was something of an understatement. Brad Cruise wasn’t just a guy. He was the guy. He was the male equivalent of Brooke Jordan. He was also the biggest action movie star of their time, raking in double-digit millions for each role he took. The most familiar face in film, Brad Cruise was the man women lusted after and men would kill to be.

“No. Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Jill said sarcastically, then smacked her in the forehead and said, “Duh!”

Claire rolled her eyes and shoved the magazine back at her. “I can’t do it.”

“Oh, come on. How do you know until you try? You’ve changed into Brooke and the blond, you can do this,” Jill said encouragingly.

“I shifted into Brooke and the blond by wanting to be them,” Claire argued. “They’re women; beautiful, successful women. Brad is a guy. G…U…Y. Guy. Male. A man. The opposite sex. I have no desire to be a man.”

“Think Freud. Think penis envy,” Jill said quickly.

“I don’t have penis envy,” Claire assured her.

“Oh, come on,” Jill pleaded. “Just try. Just—imagine it. Being Brad Cruise; feted and adored by everyone. Rich beyond your wildest dreams. Just try. Please. For me.”

Claire blew her breath out with exasperation, then sighed. “Fine. I’ll try. For you.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Jill gave her a quick hug, then stepped back, nodded, and said with excitement, “Go on…Do it.”

Claire shook her head and peered down at the picture, sure she wouldn’t be able to do it. For one brief moment, she’d had a real longing to look like Brooke. As for the blond, Claire had even managed a little excitement and interest in looking like her, but Brad Cruise…? She just didn’t really have any desire to become him, though she supposed it might be interesting. Sighing inwardly, she concentrated on the picture, noting the features, the shape, the…

“Holy shit.”

Claire glanced up when Jill breathed those two words. One look at her wide, round eyes was enough to make Claire head back to the bathroom to peer at herself in the mirror.

“Wow,” Claire breathed as she stared at Brad Cruise’s reflection looking back at her. Rugged good looks, short, tousled light brown hair, and the same black suit the man had worn in the magazine photo. It was as if he’d stepped right out of the page and into the room. Only he hadn’t. It wasn’t Brad Cruise she was staring at, it was herself.

“Yeah.” Jill sighed, following her into the bathroom. “Wow.”

Claire’s gaze narrowed at the sudden spark in her friend’s eyes; a spark that was usually reserved for members of the opposite sex.

“Oh yeah.” Jill walked around Claire, her eyes sweeping over her body in the suit. “This is incredible. You look just like him.”

“Yeah,” Claire agreed dryly. “I look like him, but it’s still me in here.”

Jill stopped behind her and peered at their reflection in the mirror. “Oh, wow, look!! It’s me and Brad Cruise. I gotta get a picture of this. All those women at the reunion tonight would just eat their hearts out.”

“I thought you weren’t going,” Claire reminded, then shook her head as Jill started out of the room, but her friend had barely taken a step into the hall before stopping abruptly and whirling back.

“What?” Claire asked warily.

“I have an idea,” Jill said slowly.

Claire noted the mounting excitement on her face and began to shake her head. Excitement and ideas were a bad mix with Jill. “No.”

“You don’t even know what it is,” Jill protested.

“I don’t need to, Jill. I know that look. It’s the look that always got me in trouble when we were teenagers,” Claire said. Her mouth tightened when Jill’s shoulders drooped and her face took on a pathetic, dejected cast. It was the look that always got her. Knowing she would regret it, Claire sighed and asked, “What is it?”

Jill hesitated, then blurted, “Be my date for the reunion tonight?”

Claire blinked. “What?”

“Be my date. Like that,” Jill explained, gesturing to her Brad Cruise guise.

“Oh no, no, no, no, no,” Claire said, shaking her head.

“Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” Jill countered quickly, then clapped her hands together as if in prayer and begged, “Please? Please Claire? It could be fun.”

“Fun?” she echoed with disbelief.

“Yes, fun. Just think about it,” Jill said. “Magda the bitch would eat her heart out. For once in life, we would have it over her.”

Claire grimaced at the idea of Magda the bitch. A Barbie doll look-alike with blond hair and boobs, she’d had everything…Except personality, compassion, and heart. Magda had been a devoted subscriber to the belief that when you looked as good as she did, you just didn’t have to be nice. More than that, she’d gone out of her way to be cutting and cruel to anyone she’d felt beneath her on the food chain…which had been everyone in the school who wasn’t male and on the football team. Claire seriously doubted the woman had improved with age. The idea of Magda’s distress if Jill walked into the reunion on the arm of Brad Cruise really had some charm to it.

“And then there’s Ted,” Jill said, adding to her argument. “He’d eat his heart out, too.”

“Ted?” Claire asked with confusion. “He didn’t even go to our high school. Why would he be there?”

“He’ll be there with Magda. It’s why he had to end it today rather than wait until the very last minute, like the day of the wedding…or maybe months after,” she added.

“Magda won the ‘Ted’s wife lotto’?” Claire asked with horror. “She was the other finalist?”

Jill nodded, stone-faced. “After he told me he was dumping me, I was foolish enough to ask if he couldn’t at least attend the reunion with me tonight and he told me about Magda.”