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It’s the late 1980s. Jennifer Ashe lives unhappily with foster parents. She has never known her father, and her mother is in prison for selling crack.

One day she glimpses, though the split trunk of a tree, an alternate world. Here she discovers another version of herself, but rich and seemingly happy, living the life she always wanted.

She switches places with her double, but the rich Jennifer’s life is not as idyllic as it looked. In a world that is not hers, things spin disastrously out of control.

Review

“A Prince and the Pauper for the quantum age.”

—Vitaly K.

Sample chapter: © David Andrew Westwood 2026, all rights reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced without written permission from the author.

PART ONE

Prison, Puppies, and Paternity

A voice singing Never Gonna Give You Up as badly as she did awoke her. Standing so fast she became momentarily dizzy, Jennifer looked through to see Jennifer Two seated on the other side of the split oak, listening to a Walkman, alone. 

Impulsively, she said “Hey!”

The other Jennifer scrambled to her feet and looked around, wrenching the earphones from her head. “Who’s there? W-what d’you want?”

“It’s me. Come on through the tree. It’s amazing.”

“What? What the hell are you talking about?”

“It’s Sally from school,” she improvised. “Come on through — I want to show you something.”

The other Jennifer leaned warily forward through the gap, one manicured hand resting against the side of the split. Jennifer grabbed it and yanked. Jennifer Two stumbled through, and as she did so, Jennifer One slid past her to the other side, so close she could smell her perfume.

“Hey!” came a muffled shout.

Jennifer waited to see what would happen. Apart from her heart threatening to climb out of her ribcage she felt no different. Would J2 make her way back through? No, she didn’t. She couldn’t.

Then a wave of nausea washed through her, making her stagger and fall to her knees. A cold sweat squeezed through her pores, as if she had eaten something her body was desperately trying to reject. Her eyes saw both worlds overlapping, a double exposure, and her ears experienced sounds somehow syncopated, misaligned. Is this madness? Have I driven myself crazy? Am I dying?

She sat on the tree’s roots and tried to stop her head from spinning. Would this go on forever? Was this the price she had to pay for making the swap? How would she be able to bear it?

But in a few moments the malaise passed and her vision cleared. All that remained was a faint tinnitus and a clammy film of perspiration on her face.

Now what? Was there a white rabbit checking his watch that she should follow? She looked around her, but not back. Jennifer Two’s purse lay on the ground. Picking it up, she stood and walked away shakily, looking through its contents for ideas as to what to do next. Lipstick — Revlon’s Pink in the Afternoon — chapstick, a small spray bottle of Opium, house keys, a wallet with a learner permit, something called a “National I.D.,” an American Express card, and seventy-five dollars. Some of the bills had strange faces on them, and each denomination was a different color instead of the usual black on one side and dark green on the other. She peered at the I.D. It was stamped “A1. Not of Mixed Race.” 

The learners’ permit bore an address. So that was where she lived.

What had she done? She had voluntarily entered one of those old Twilight Zone episodes she and her mother used to watch. Would her mom here also be an addict? Might she have overdosed? Did she have a father now? Brothers and sisters? 

Well, let’s find out.