by Alex Flinn
“Oh, I don’t…” But curiosity got the better of me. “Sure. Why not?”
I asked, and the picture switched to the president. He was somewhere, behind a stage, like he was waiting to give a speech. Surrounded by advisors, he riffled through papers. He actually looked nervous.
“So…” I said, putting it all together. “I could watch Lisette and Warner together when they don’t know I’m watching, see if they’re really happy, really in love.”
“You could. But, remember, it might hurt you, seeing them together.”
I looked in the mirror at the now-smiling president. “It couldn’t hurt more than now.”
“Don’t be too sure. Magic isn’t always a good idea. Plenty have seen what they wish they hadn’t in this mirror, found out that their friends didn’t really care about them, for example.”
“Has it worked out for anyone?”
She smiled, and I knew the answer.
I said, “I need to know. They have a date tomorrow night.” Kendra nodded. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. I’m not really expecting anything. I just want to know the truth.”
She put the mirror in her bag. “You will.”
5
Friday night, Kendra came over at six. I’d heard Lisette tell Warner on the phone (loudly, for my benefit) to pick her up at six-thirty for a seven-thirty movie.
In my room, Kendra showed me how the mirror worked. “It’s like watching TV. You see everything that happens. If you want to see closeups of Warner, ask to watch him. If you want to see Lisette, watch her.”
“Got it.” It was six-twenty, and I said, “Show me Warner.”
The mirror zeroed in on him like it was Google Earth. He was in his car, driving. It was the closest I’d seen him since we broke up, and I was surprised how tired he looked. He flipped through the selections on his iPod. He stopped on “Don’t Blame the Moonlight” by Kim Mortal. It had been one of our favorite songs, and we’d planned on going to the concert. He switched with a grimace.
“Terrific,” I said to Kendra. “He hates me so much, he’s taking it out on Kim Mortal?”
“If you’re going to be that sensitive, you shouldn’t watch.”
“It’s okay.”
He pulled in front of our house, checking his watch. It was right before six-thirty. Warner was always on time. We agreed that punctuality was important. It showed respect for the other person. Downstairs, I heard the shower running. It must have been Lisette. Warner stepped out of the car, checking his watch again, then walked to the door. Before he got there, he stopped. Something had caught his eye. My tree house. He glanced up at it. I wondered if he was sorry he’d rebuilt it for me. I hadn’t been up in it since our breakup. It was too painful, remembering how that was where he’d first said he loved me. He stood, staring at it, then ran his hand against the ladder, admiring his handiwork. He checked his watch again. Six-thirty.
The shower was still running. Warner walked to the door and rang the doorbell. I jumped a little at hearing it ring in person and in the mirror too, sort of like that horror story about the old lady who realizes the puzzle she’s putting together is of her own room. I jumped.
A minute passed. Then two. No one answered the door. The water finally stopped, but the hair dryer was running. Was Lisette just going to make Warner stand there? Did she expect me to get it?
Warner glanced at his watch again, then rang the bell a second time.
“Should I get it?” I asked Kendra.
“Do you want to?”
Yes! Yes! I wanted to see him again, be alone with him for just one minute. But maybe I didn’t. What if he recoiled at seeing me? What if he told me again how much he hated me? What if he was mean?
“Let him think you’re out too,” Kendra said. “At least, that’s what I’d do. Of course, what do I know?”
“No, you’re right.” I watched as Warner picked up his phone and dialed a number.
Our phone rang.
I thrilled—briefly—at the idea that he was calling me. He wanted to talk to me. No. He was calling Lisette to find out where she was. Had he been calling me, he’d have called my cell. I let it ring, even though I really wanted to answer it. I wouldn’t have kept him waiting like this.
Downstairs, the hair dryer finally stopped. Warner glanced at his watch. Six-forty. He looked at the tree house again. He turned, as if to leave, then rang the doorbell once more.
This time, Lisette heard. She yelled, “Just a sec!”
Warner checked his watch again. I could see the annoyance on his face. At least, I hoped I could. I wanted him to hate her, regret that he was with her, despite her beauty.
But in another ten minutes when she finally opened the door, I could see him appreciating her. He’d never looked at me like that. People would forgive a lot if you looked like Lisette.
Only when he got in the car did he say, “I hope we can still get tickets.”
Lisette shrugged. “You should have bought them online.”
“I didn’t know we’d be this late.”
“Hey, you don’t get to look this good by rushing. Maybe Emma would have been ready on time, but I’m not a slob.”
“Let’s leave Emma out of this.”
“Gladly.” She reached over and started massaging his neck. “I’m sure we’ll get in. I usually get what I want.”
“I don’t think that works on ticket machines.”
Sure enough, when they got to the Falls, the movie Lisette wanted, a romantic comedy I’d seen the week before with Mother, was sold out. “Guess we’ll have to see something else,” Warner said.
“Okay.” Lisette studied the timetable. “I’ll Kill You Later starts at seven-thirty.”
Warner bought the tickets, and they walked through the crowds to the ticket taker. “Theater four,” the guy said, “first door on the left.”
Lisette thanked him, then strolled right past theater four to theater seven.
“Hey, Lisette!” Warner yelled. “Lisette, it’s here!”
“No, it’s not.” Lisette breezed through the crowd. I saw what she was doing, going into the theater with the movie she wanted to see, even though they didn’t have tickets.
Warner caught up with her. “If we go here, there won’t be seats for someone who actually bought tickets for that movie.”
“So?”
“So, it’s not fair.”
She gestured at him to be quiet. “Life’s not fair. It’s not fair that my parents are both dead, and I have to live with your ex-girlfriend and her mother either. Now, are you with me or not?”
Warner sighed. “I guess.”
“Actually, I’ll go find seats. You buy popcorn, okay?”
“Fine.”
So I got to watch Warner stand in the popcorn line for twenty minutes.
The movie, which I’d seen before, was super-dumb. It was about a pretty blond actress who, for reasons that weren’t explained, was kidnapped by a fan. Because this was fantasyland, they fell in love, even though the guy had already tied her up and put her in the trunk of his car.
Because women are just that stupid.
“I can probably fix it so you can see the screen,” Kendra said.
“It’s okay. The movie was completely degrading.”
Had I seen the movie with Warner, we’d have made fun of it the whole time. Lisette and Warner held hands and kissed. I tried not to cry.
After the obligatory chase scene (where the heroine realizes she loves the kidnapping dirtbag and has to stop the police from taking him away), the movie ended.
“Thanks for taking me,” Lisette said. “You’ll be rewarded.”
I turned the mirror away so as not to see Warner’s reaction.
Next, they waited an hour to get into P.F. Chang’s.
“Maybe we should go someplace else,” Warner suggested.
“I like to be where the action is,” Lisette said. “Don’t you want to be seen with me?”
“Of
course.”
They ran into Tayloe, who was eating a huge plate of noodles. Lisette hung on their table, saying, “Don’t know where you put it, girl.” Then she backed up and practically crashed into the waitress. “Oops.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t stand here, honey,” Warner said.
“If they’d seat us, we wouldn’t be here,” Lisette replied.
Over dinner, they chatted awkwardly. “So, you liked that movie?” Warner said.
“Sure. Loved it. It was very romantic.”
“You didn’t think it was a little, um, formulaic? I mean, was there any doubt they were going to end up together?”
Lisette shrugged. “Jennifer Conroy’s so pretty. I loved her outfit.”
“But it kept getting ripped. The movie was sort of degrading to women, don’t you think?”
Yes! Exactly!
“Why do you care? You’re not a woman.” Lisette fed Warner a bite of her brown rice. “You overanalyze things. You’re just trying to show everyone how smart you are all the time. If it were up to you, we’d only see movies with subtitles.”
Warner and I had loved movies with subtitles.
“What are we doing tomorrow?” Lisette asked.
“I don’t know. This is sort of an expensive night. Maybe we could just hang out at my house tomorrow.” Warner shook soy sauce onto his food.
“Oh, sorry, I hadn’t realized you minded taking me out.”
“I love taking you out. But between the tickets and the popcorn, and this…” He gestured around the table. “I’m going to drop a hundred dollars tonight.”
“Your dad will give it to you.”
Warner pursed his lips. “But I don’t want to take it from him. He’ll feel like he’s making up for things.”
“That’s stupid. I know what it’s like to have mean relatives. If I could get anything out of Andrea and Emma, I’d take it.”
She had.
“I guess.”
“I’m so glad we’re together. I saved you from her.”
“Can we please not talk about Emma?”
“Okay, you saved me too.” Lisette stroked his hair. “Saved me from my life of misery.”
Warner tried to make eye contact with the waitress, to get the check.
How could he stand her? On a date with him, she was just as conniving and mean as she was with me. Yet, he took it, even enjoyed it. I watched Lisette move to the seat by his and kiss him. “So, what are we doing tomorrow?” she cooed.
“What do you want to do?” he asked.
Was being pretty that important? After a while, wouldn’t you stop noticing the person’s looks?
But maybe he liked being seen with her, instead of being seen with me.
That and the fact that Lisette had convinced him I was Satan.
On the way home, she said, “Actually, I’ll probably be doing chores most of the day. That’s what I do Saturdays. Oh, and Emma makes me do her homework.”
“What?” I said it out loud. I turned to Kendra. “Oh no she didn’t! As if I’d want her doing my homework.”
Warner wasn’t buying it either. “You’re saying Emma doesn’t do her own homework?” Even he had to know I was way smarter than Lisette and wouldn’t let her near my homework.
Lisette realized her mistake and backed off. “Oh, just the busy-work stuff, like when she has to copy definitions from the book.”
“Oh.”
They reached the door of our house, and Lisette said, “Want to come in?”
“Can I … isn’t your stepmom?”
“She’s out … meeting with her coven.” Lisette laughed.
“What about Emma?”
A look of annoyance crossed Lisette’s face. “What about her? She’s out too, I think.”
Warner nodded. “So she’s dating someone else?”
Lisette laughed. “Doubtful. No one but you would be that charitable. I think she’s with her weirdo friend, Kendra.”
“I could make all her hair fall out right now,” Kendra said.
I cackled. “No, don’t.” But it was tempting, because the next thing Lisette did was, she reached for Warner’s face and kissed him. “I think we’ll be all alone.”
Finally, he agreed and followed her to her bedroom.
“Are you sure you want to keep watching?” Kendra asked.
I didn’t, not really, but I was glued to it now, like one of those bad reality shows, which is what my life had become. I nodded. “Yeah.”
The bedroom was mercifully dark, and they didn’t turn on the lights. Still, I could hear them making out, hear them kissing and then more, and I knew it was true what she’d said, that he’d never been attracted to me, as he was to her. We’d never gone this far. I thought it was because he respected me, but I guess I was deluding myself about that too.
Which was why I was pretty shocked when I heard his voice saying, “God, Emma, I love you so much.”
Silence. Had I heard him right? Was there a rewind button on this thing?
Then Lisette’s voice in the darkness. “What did you just call me?”
I’d heard him right.
“What did you just call me?” She was shouting now.
“Lisette. Sorry. Oh, God, Lisette, it was a slip, just a slip.”
“You still love that … that … her? Knowing how they treated me, and you still—”
“No, Lisette, no. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She snapped on the light. She had on panties and a lacy tank top, which she was pulling back on. She arched her back, showing off her body. “Do I look like Emma?”
Warner blinked against the bright light.
“Look at me, you bastard. Do I look like Emma?”
“Of course not. I told you, I wasn’t—”
“How do you think it makes me feel, knowing you told that fat cow you loved her when you’ve never said it to me?”
“Emma’s not…” Warner looked down. “Of course I love you, Lisette.”
“No, you don’t. You love her. You respect her because she’s so smart, and I’m just some dumb slut. That’s what she’s always telling me too.”
“No, Lisette.”
“She’s smart. I’m stupid. Even my own father said he wished I was more like her.”
I gasped. He had?
“I didn’t mean it, Lisette. Let me make it up to you.” He caressed her shoulder.
She moved away. “How?”
“I don’t know. However you want, whatever you want.”
Lisette considered. “I’ll think about it. But you’d better get that money from your dad.”
Warner nodded. “Whatever you want. I love you.”
He pulled her toward him and they kissed, but this time, I didn’t cringe.
I knew he’d told her the truth the first time. He loved me, not her. If he only knew the truth about me and Lisette, I could get him back. I just had to find a way for him to know it.
I handed the mirror back to Kendra. “Thank you. I found out what I needed to know.”
She smiled. “That seldom happens.”
6
Warner loved me. Me, not Lisette. And, what’s more, Lisette was jealous of me for being smart. She didn’t just loathe me randomly.
The whole thing felt so great I almost wanted to be nice to her. Almost.
But, not-so-almost, I wanted Warner back.
Whenever I can’t figure out a solution to a problem, I sleep on it. They say the subconscious can unravel the most complex of spider-webs. So when I was having trouble with a study group member who wasn’t pulling her weight or when Courtney had picked on me at school, I just went to sleep and hoped for an answer.
I did that that night, for Lisette.
I awoke to the sound of Ralph on his mouse wheel, spinning. I touched the cage’s side with my hand, to try to stop the noise. Ralph kept going.
The whirring sound became a song in my head.
Cinderelly, Cinderelly!
A song from a movi
e I’d seen as a kid.
And suddenly, I knew what to do.
I called Kendra and arranged to meet her at the park.
She was late, so I sat, waiting, watching the kids playing, the squirrels. The birds.
Suddenly she was there.
I was starting to realize how clueless I’d been not to realize she was a witch.
I said, “You’ve read Cinderella, right?” It was a stupid question, yeah, but with Kendra, you could mention something perfectly normal like Cinderella or reality shows, and then find out she thought it promoted arranged marriages or foot fetishism or something. She’d never been to McDonald’s, and she called hot dogs “frankfurters.” She’d never even watched Barney. Part of being a witch, I guessed.
But she said, “Read Cinderella? I knew Charles Perrault personally… I mean, of course I’m familiar with Cinderella. Who isn’t, right? They made it into a movie.”
“Yeah, and before that, it was a fairy tale, about a girl and her stepmother and stepsisters, and no one likes each other.”
“I’m cognizant. Except I thought they were ugly stepsisters and a wicked stepmother.”
I shrugged. “Maybe they were, maybe they weren’t. Sometimes, people see a story differently.” After years with Lisette, I didn’t know what to believe anymore, even about fairy tales. Maybe Cinderella was the bad guy in the story, and her stepsisters were just nerdy girls who wanted a boyfriend. How politically correct was it, really, to make the villains ugly? And how realistic? In my experience, it was usually the pretty people who were mean to the ugly ones, not the other way around. Probably, I realized, ugly people needed a group to protect their portrayals in books and movies. Except no one would really admit they were ugly, not even to themselves.
I said, “The point is, no one was happy. Cinderella wanted a chance, and so did the steps. So Cinderella went to the ball, met a prince, and moved out, and everyone lived happily ever after. Apart, where they belonged.”
Even though that wasn’t exactly what the story said. Some versions said that Cinderella forgave her stepsisters. Some said she had them boiled in a pot. Most of them said that the steps wanted to marry the prince themselves. But I figured, considering there were so many versions of the story, they were probably all a little inaccurate.
