by Bailey James
“No, you won’t. I’ll bet Ty comes over and takes you somewhere.” He scowls.
“Yes, I will.” I reach over and pull my purse to me, pulling out my compact. I open it to show him the tiny mirror. “See, I have this. Even if I go somewhere, I’ll be able to see you.”
He studies it carefully. “You think it’ll work?”
I shrug. “Sure. We’re starting to see each other easier, why wouldn’t we? Remember, I even saw you at Ty’s house. Twice.”
He nods slowly. “Alright, but I never told you my secret.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You’re just trying to stall again,” I say and chuckle.
“Be that as it may, I’d like to finish.” He smiles when I make a “go on” gesture. “When I was a little boy, my mom and dad used to tell me bedtime stories about a hero who rescues the pretty damsel in distress. I used to pretend I was that hero.”
I laugh and lean back. “See, I knew it was just a ploy to get me to talk to you longer. That’s not much of a secret, you know. I used to pretend I was Cinderella whenever my parents would make me clean my room.”
He frowns. “I didn’t say everything yet.” He looks into my eyes, stopping me before I can make another joke. “My parents took turns telling me that story—every night. And every night, I begged them to tell me that story instead of some other one. I didn’t want any other story.”
Still not seeing how this is different from any other kid out there, but knowing he’s leading up to something, I ask, “Why?”
He grins. “The boy—whose name was Jackson,” he winks at me, and I smile back, “was like any other boy in his world. Young, determined, strong, smart. But alone. He never really fit in with anyone, but he didn’t really want to, either. He liked being by himself. Then one day, as he went about his business, he heard a beautiful voice. The sound drew him like a siren’s call, and he followed it to the lake outside of his town. Upon looking into the lake, he saw an enchanting maiden in the water.” He stares into my eyes. “But she wasn’t in the water; it was as if his reflection was that of the girl.”
“Like us,” I say, barely breathing as shock runs through me. That has to be a coincidence, right? Something his parents made up?
“Yes, just like us.” He touches the glass at my face, caressing it once, then lets his hand fall back into his lap when I only continue to stare at him. His eyes take on a blurry look, his voice dropping into a deep timbre. “She smiled when she saw him, and it was in that moment his heart was lost. She explained that a wicked witch had trapped her on the other side, and only her true love’s first kiss could break the spell. He didn’t know how he could kiss her, as she was only a reflection, but that didn’t stop him from trying. He leaned down and, expecting to feel the cold water against his lips, was shocked to find her warm ones pressing back.”
He winks at me again, and I laugh. “Of course. What’s a fairy tale without a happy ending?”
“Oh, but that’s not the end,” he says. “The witch was enraged that he’d broken the spell, as the girl was none other than the rightful queen of his world and the only person who could destroy the witch, so she set her henchmen on the couple. They fled, but the evil witch had wrought so much havoc that the girl knew she had to return. But the hero wouldn’t have it. He wanted to protect her. So, while his lover slept, he snuck out to challenge the witch.”
“And then what happened?” I ask, mesmerized by the story.
He shrugs. “He killed the witch, saved the world, and married the girl. What do you think happened?”
Disappointment pours over me like a cold shower. “Well, that wasn’t a very good story. You left out all the good parts.”
“No. Not really. The thing is, that story made me who I was. I wanted to be that hero. Save the girl, get the kiss. So, I went from being the scrawny kid that got picked on to the muscular swimmer that everyone wanted to be. But I was lonely.” He reaches out and presses his palm against the glass, waiting for me to place my hand over his. “Until I heard your voice. Your siren’s call. You remind me so much of the princess in the story, Lily. You make me want to be the hero in the story again and save you from the witch’s spell.”
His expression changes as the mirror glows brighter and the feeling of his hand grows more intense. Our eyes meet, and then, as one, we push on the mirror, but it’s just as sturdy as always.
“Damn,” we both mutter.
“I thought…maybe…” I say.
“Yeah, me too,” he agrees.
He yawns, and I laugh. “Jackson, go to bed.”
“Okay,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Good luck! You better bring home the gold.”
“The gold? Why would I bring home gold?”
I burst out laughing. “Sorry, that’s what we say for the Olympics. People who win first place get a gold medal.”
“Oh. Okay. We just have places. We get a trophy. Not in this one, though. It’s more of a qualifier.”
“Qualifier? For what?”
“Well, it’s kind of complicated, but basically, it’s the first of six races. If I win this, then I’m considered a favorite, which is just a fancy way of saying I get a free ride into the next race. The others who place move on too, but they have to ‘qualify’ first to see where they should be placed in the next race. Each race gets harder and harder because only the best make it.”
“So, what’s it for? That Coubertin thing you told me about?”
He puffs out his chest. “Yes.”
“Okay, well, now you know that when I say, ‘go for the gold,’ I want you to win. Which you will.”
He grins. “I hope so.” He turns to walk to his bed.
“Oh, wait,” I say and wait for him to face me. “Does your mom take pictures?”
He gives me a “duh” look. “Doesn’t every mom?”
I only grin. “Good. I want to see them.”
“What? Why?”
“Well, I can’t be there to see it, but I want to. So, I’ll have to settle for pictures.”
He looks dumbfounded. “You actually want to see me race?”
I nod eagerly. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
He leans close to the mirror again. “I’ve never wanted anyone at my races before, besides my mom, but I really wish you could be.” He extends his hand and strokes the glass by my cheek. “I’ll bring the pictures.”
I place my hand on my cheek, imagining I can almost feel his hand under mine. “I’ll be waiting.”
We gaze at each other for a few more minutes until I sigh. “Go to sleep, Jacks. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He grins. “Do you hear what you just called me?”
I bite my lip. “Is that…okay?”
“It’s perfect, Tiger Lily.”
“Go,” I whisper, secretly wishing he’d stay.
“I will.” He doesn’t budge. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll come home straight after the meet.”
I close my eyes and back away. “I’ll be waiting.”
He doesn’t say anything else, and I open my eyes to see the mirror bouncing my image back to me.
The next morning, my first thought is Jackson. Not knowing what time his race is. I run to the mirror, hoping to catch him before he leaves. The portal is open, but he isn’t there. Not as far as I can tell, but a weird machine is. It sits on the floor and is only a couple inches tall. Taped to the left of his side of the mirror and above my head is a note that says, “Say, ‘On.’”
“On,” I say.
Immediately a blue light emits from the box, and a miniature pool is in front of me. A sound erupts from it, startling me a little, and I jump. But just as quickly, I realize this is Jackson’s version of a television. A holographic version, but a television, nonetheless. It’s
so crisp and clear that I wonder if I could just get through the mirror if I’d be able to touch the water and smell the chlorine. If they use chlorine.
I smile when I hear the announcers and their images pop in front of me as if they’re really standing there.
“Today is the first of six races to qualify for the Coubertin. The winner of this race will automatically be entered for the next without having to qualify.”
“That’s right, John, and the favorite to win this race is two-time Coubertin winner, Nineteen-year-old Jackson Wickers. A morpo from Winter Park. In fact, he’s the only morpo competing today. If he wins, then he’ll move onto state and compete with swimmers from all over Florida.”
So, I guess even a steam engine doesn’t change the course of all history. There was a Winter Park and a Florida in Jackson’s world, too. That’s so freakin’ sweet!
I sit on the ground, still smiling. I guess I’ll be able to watch the race after all. The announcers drone on and on about how amazing it is that such a young morpo has actually won against the GECs, some of which have been racing much longer. It makes me giddy to know I’m so familiar with their terms that I don’t get confused.
I watch as the athletes are named as each step up to the little starting platforms. The pool looks just like ours does. Apparently, he’s racing in something called a 400-meter individual medley, consisting of a single swimmer, swimming equal distances of four different strokes within one race. The strokes are the butterfly, backstroke, breaststroke, and freestyle. Or at least that’s what I gather from what the announcers are saying.
The camera pans over to Jackson, who stands on the platform in nothing but a Speedo. “Oh, my sweet baby Jesus.”
My legs go weak, and I sit, drinking him in and feeling my skin burst into flame. I knew he was fit, but…damn. The hologram really shows him off to his best advantage. He stretches his arms over his head, and saliva pools in my mouth. As Leah would have said, he’s smexy.
Trying to control the sudden surge of hormones circling my bloodstream, I look away but immediately turn back, unable to stop myself. Unfortunately, the camera has moved to the other contestants, and I gasp. They’re so much bigger than he is. As they’re introduced, I realize he’s seriously outgunned. Not only do they have bigger muscles, but every single one is either a cyborg or GEC.
He doesn’t stand a chance, I think, biting my lips and twisting my hands together.
The camera pans away and focuses on the end of the pool, where the swimmers jump into the pool and grab the ledge, preparing to push off.
My heart leaps into my throat the instant the horn sounds, signaling them to start. I focus on Jackson and groan when he’s easily left behind.
“Go, go,” I chant under my breath. “Come on, Jacks. I know you can do this.”
He stays at least a length behind all the others the whole time. At the last leg of the race, just when I think he’s going to come in last place, he puts on a burst of speed. I find myself screaming in joy as he hits the side of the pool first, barely a second before the rest. I jump up and down, hugging myself.
Mom bursts through the door. “What’s going on?”
I spin around. “He won!” I yell, clasping my hands together and placing them over my mouth. I bounce up and down on my toes.
She frowns and glances at my TV. “Who won?”
Uh, oh. Sudden clarity hits me upside the head, and I dive for the book on my bed. “The hero. In my book. He won.”
Dad pokes his head around Mom’s shoulder and raises an eyebrow, a bemused expression on his face.
Mom laughs. “Okay, well, calm down, honey. I thought you were hurt.”
“Okay, sorry.” I glance at my mirror as the camera focuses in on Jackson again. From the sounds of it, they’re interviewing him. “I’ll just get back to reading, then.” I jerk my thumb at the book again.
My parents exchange a smile and leave laughing. I don’t care what they think and turn back to the mirror. Jackson stands near a wall with a towel slung around his shoulders and a grin wider than the moon. Water drips off his hair and nose. His chest is heaving as he tries to catch his breath. I have to stop myself from reaching out to try and touch him.
A woman stands next to him, and her blonde hair shimmers in the sunlight. When she touches his shoulder, I have to stop myself from trying to jump through the mirror as jealousy pours through me, making me a little sick to my stomach.
“Jackson, you’ve done it again. What do you have to say?” the female reporter asks.
“I haven’t done anything but qualify. There are five more races to go.”
The woman chuckles, but I don’t hear what else she says because my phone rings. I answer quickly, not taking my eyes off the screen, trying to read Jackson’s lips.
“Hello?”
“Hey, beautiful. Sleep well?”
Shit! “Tyler! Hi, I’m sorry—”
“It’s fine, Lily. You obviously needed it. How about going to the movies with me today instead?”
“Sure,” I say, trying to get him off the phone so I can hear what Jackson is saying.
“Great, I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he says, and hangs up before I can argue.
I hiss but go back to listening to the interview. I’ll deal with that later. Right now, Jackson is more important.
“Listen, I need to get to the locker room and change. I need to get home.” He starts to walk away.
“Wait, before you go. Is there anyone you want to say hi to?” the reporter asks him. “Mom? A friend?” She sends him a saucy smile that makes me want to slap her. “A girlfriend?”
He turns back around and grins straight into the camera. “Yeah. Lily.” I gasp, a huge smile spreading across my face. “I grabbed the gold.”
Chapter Twenty
The reporter grins into the camera and wiggles her eyebrows, clearly pleased about the dirt Jackson just shared before she turns back to Jackson.
“Who’s Lily?” she asks, following him as he lifts a brow and merely strolls away, causing me to laugh. “What does that mean?” The reporter keeps shooting questions at him, but he keeps walking without saying anything.
The camera operator races to get ahead of Jackson and manages to catch the familiar crooked grin on his face. I have to hold a hand to my stomach as the now-familiar froggerflies flap around frantically.
I chuckle as he continues to ignore her and the other reporters surrounding him and disappears into the locker room.
The reporter laughs it off. “Well, looks like our resident morpo has a girlfriend, much to the anguish of his female fans, including myself. I wonder if anyone knows who this Lily is…” She moves on to find the second-place contestant, a cyborg named Cyan.
Girlfriend? I let out a self-deprecating laugh. Boy, would she be surprised if she knew the truth. I don’t think those other girls would care so much if they knew the girl he’d given a shout-out to couldn’t even touch him, let alone be his girlfriend.
Even the thought of some other girl coming along creates a metaphorical green haze over my eyes. I shake it off immediately. Jackson isn’t my boyfriend. He can’t be.
Not until I find a way to get the portal to open.
I don’t even try to argue with myself. Because arguing that I have Ty feels more and more of an excuse every time I even think about it.
As if my thoughts have summoned him, the doorbell rings, and I remember Ty with a groan. Dressing as quickly as possible, I listen as he talks with my parents. I toy with the idea of making something up and sending him away, but I know I don’t have a choice. I have to go to the movies with him, or my parents will want to know why. Usually, I don’t ever pass up the opportunity to spend time with Ty, and anything less than going would be cause for concern. And I can’t tell them I don’t want to spend time with Ty because I’m falling for a boy they can’t e
ven see.
Damn it! I want to stay and congratulate Jackson.
That’s not the only reason.
“No, it isn’t,” I mumble, and wonder how long I can stall before Ty makes his way upstairs.
Mom calls up the stairs to tell me Ty is here and that I should hurry.
Guess that’s my answer.
I glance at the mirror and will Jackson to appear, but five minutes later, when Mom calls up the stairs again, I give up. I don’t know how long it’ll take for Jackson to get home, so I’ll just have to make sure I have my compact with me.
By the time I step into the living room, my parents are talking to Ty about some kind of Fourth of July thing they’re planning. He looks up and smiles when he sees me, stopping in midsentence. My parents exchange a look, and Dad wiggles his eyebrows at Mom.
“You look lovely,” Ty says, still smiling as he walks over and holds his hand out to me.
“Thank you,” I say, bewildered. I’m only in jeans and an old band tee. I let him take my hand and lead me out the door.
“Don’t be too late,” Mom calls after us.
“I won’t,” I yell over my shoulder.
In the car, Ty keeps shooting me glances while I stare down at my hands. Every so often, I glance at the side-view mirror in the hopes of seeing Jackson, but only see the passing landscape.
“Jackson, where are you?” I whisper.
“I’m sorry. What?” Ty asks, startling me.
Pretending I didn’t just jump out of my skin, I turn and plaster a smile onto my face. “Nothing. Just mumbling to myself as usual.” I go back to focusing on the mirror.
“Oh, okay.” Ty reaches his hand over the center console, palm up, an unspoken request for me to take his hand. I ignore it, hoping he’ll take it as I haven’t seen it. But he sighs and pulls it back. “Lily? Are you mad at me?”
I glance over and see his jaw clench as I shake my head. “No.”
“Then what’s going on?”
I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything.
His jaw clenches again, but he stays silent until we reach the theater. He turns to me. “Would you rather I took you home?”
