by Shawn Sarles
“I’m not going anywhere,” Steph said, stretching her spine up to her full height. “We’ll just have to see who Coach Lee picks.”
“As if you have a chance.” But Elena didn’t seem so sure now. And before Steph could get another word out, the girl spun and stalked back into the gym.
Steph’s shoulders fell, unspooling from their tight knots. She’d talked a big game in front of Elena, but now the doubts started to creep in. If Coach Lee picked her for captain, could she really lead the team? The girls liked Elena more. They would listen to her, even if Steph was a better player, a more devoted one willing to put in the extra hours on the court, to dive after every ball that came her way. But would the other girls see that? Would they even care?
A rattling of wheels suddenly came up behind Steph, and she turned to see the night custodian pushing along her mop and bucket.
“Was that Elena?” the woman asked, pressing down on the brake on her janitor’s cart and coming closer.
“Yes, Mom,” Steph sighed, turning to face the woman. Seeing them together, they were unmistakable as mother and daughter. They had the same tall builds. The same untamable curls corkscrewing from their heads.
“It’s nice to see you all are friends again.”
“We were never friends,” Steph shot back, her jaw clenching.
“You all used to spend every morning chattering away in the back seat.”
“No, we didn’t.”
Steph would have remembered that, but her mom only shrugged. Then she wrapped her hands around the mop and pulled it out, dripping soapy water across the tiled lobby.
“You should get a start on your homework,” Steph’s mom said. “I’ve still got a couple of hours to go. But I made you a snack.”
Steph nodded, and moseyed to the janitor’s cart, pulling out the brown paper sack her mom had brought. She opened it and spied two slices of homemade banana bread inside, her favorite.
“Thanks.”
But Steph’s mom had already walked out of earshot, humming to herself as she swirled the mop across the floor. Steph took a quick bite of the bread and then stuffed it back in the bag. She swallowed and turned to head off to the library, but something caught her eye.
Her reflection in the soapy mop water.
She stopped and bent over the bucket to look closer, studying her features—her sweaty forehead and the stray spirals of hair that had come out of her ponytail during practice. Did that girl really have what it took to go toe-to-toe with Elena? To beat her out for captain?
Steph sighed and shook her head.
Maybe if she weren’t such a giant. If the other girls liked her like they did Elena.
Then, as Steph stared down at her own face, it began to change, shifting into something softer. Something more delicate. A face she’d tried her best to forget. But no matter how many times she blinked or rubbed her eyes, the vision remained. It came into focus until Steph’s knees trembled underneath her, her heart leaping into her throat.
But she’d buried that—those feelings. She was already different enough. A giant. Sasquatch Steph. She didn’t need to add to the name-calling. She didn’t need to make things harder on her mother or herself.
Steph swayed on her feet. But then she snapped herself out of it. And before she could fall under its spell again, she lunged forward and kicked the cart.
Water sloshed all over the floor, and the reflection disappeared. Then Steph turned and rushed toward the library, her gym bag clutched tight to her pounding chest.
The water ran warm from the faucet, pooling in Elena’s cupped hands. She splashed it against her face, lightly massaging her skin with her fingertips. The water droplets tickled as they slid off her nose. She dipped her hands back into the sink and repeated the ritual, carefully patting her face dry with a fluffy towel. She studied her reflection in the mirror, her cheeks clean and pink from the face wash, her skin unblemished. She reached into the vanity cabinet and pulled out a jar of moisturizer.
A dab on her forehead. A streak down her nose. She smeared it across each cheekbone and then left a dot on her chin. She began rubbing it all in, the cream cooling her skin. Keeping it smooth. Keeping her beautiful.
Her phone suddenly dinged on the counter and Elena’s eyes flickered to it. She saw the text message but ignored it, turning back to gaze at her reflection instead.
She tilted her head this way and that, puckering her lips and sucking in her cheeks, trying to catch the light until—there. Her hands floated up, fingertips trailing lightly over her skin. She locked eyes with her reflection, getting lost in the image, the way her whole face seemed to glow. She looked radiant. Irresistible. Like she was an angel. Or Aphrodite herself.
A smile blossomed on Elena’s lips right as her phone chimed again. But this time, even though something whispered in her ear to keep staring, she was able to pull away from the mirror. She looked down at her phone and tapped on the screen. She figured it was a message from one of her girlfriends. Or maybe Henry. But as Elena slid the message open, she was surprised to see that it was from a number she didn’t know.
Elena stared at the message, wondering who had sent it. Was it serious or just some stupid dare? She had a boyfriend. Whoever this was had to know that. She wasn’t in the market for a new one. She and Henry were coming up on their anniversary. Three years together. She’d had a crush on him ever since she was nine years old. And in the sixth grade, when they’d finally started going out, she’d known that they’d be together forever. She’d known that they were soulmates.
Elena’s finger hovered over the message to delete it, but the screen flickered suddenly and an onslaught of messages came pouring in.
Rose after rose after rose. A string of them filling her screen.
A giggle bubbled out of Elena, and she clapped her hand over her mouth, surprised at the odd fluttering in her stomach. She scrolled down, counting the emojis until she got to a dozen. It was a sweet gesture, even if it was a bit creepy. But it was also flattering. And mysterious. Elena waited a few beats before giving in.
She held her breath, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
Elena snorted. She knew better than to fall for that.
She rolled her eyes and slid her phone into her pajama pocket. She knew these types of guys. And they were definitely weirdos—some nerd on the math team or in the marching band. She would kill whichever of her friends had given her number out to some loser.
As Elena made her way down the hallway to her room, she thought about Henry. Her boyfriend and soulmate. She’d had a crush on him for as long as she could remember. Ever since—
Her eyes flitted to the closed door at the end of the hall, and it was like a hook had snagged in her heart, reeling her in. A soft music filled her ears and beckoned her forward. She passed by her room and kept going, sleepwalking as she turned the knob and opened the door to her grandmother’s old room.
She moved to the middle of the room, leaving the door open so that light filtered in from the hallway. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in here, but so little had changed. Had it really been five years since her grandmother had passed away? She walked over to the dresser and rifled through the trinkets there. She picked through a couple of bracelets and a pair of earrings, but none of it was anything she’d want to wear now. It was all so old, the silver tarnished and the gems cloudy. And that wasn’t all. Her hand cut through the stack of books and pulled out a thicker tome. A volume of fairy tales.
Carefully, Elena brushed the dust off the cover and opened the book. The spine cracked as she flipped through it, and Elena remembered how her grandmother used to read to her. She didn’t remember the stories, though, and she only half recognized the illustrations. She squinted and tried to make out the words, but she quickly realized that they weren’t written in English. Her grandmother must have translated as she read. Or known the stories by heart. Elena kept turning the pages, and then an illustration made her stop.
&nb
sp; A beautiful woman stood in front of a mirror. But her reflection hid something monstrous: a demon with glowing eyes and bloody lips. Something about that image tugged at the back of Elena’s mind. She looked closely at the page and tried to make out the title of this particular story.
“Die Verflucht Frau.”
Of course, she didn’t know what the German meant, but she could look it up. As she reached into her pocket to take out her phone, a chill crept up her neck. Goose bumps scattered along the backs of her arms and a strange draft gusted through the room, grabbing the pages of the book and turning them so that the woman and the mirror disappeared from sight.
Don’t you have more important things to do?
Elena looked over her shoulder. There’d been someone standing there behind her, she could have sworn. But it was only her reflection. Her face bathed in the pale moonlight streaming in through the window.
Come and take a closer look.
Something beckoned to Elena, and she forgot about the fairy tale book. She took a few steps until she was standing right in front of the antique mirror, with its lacquered wood and inset pearls. And in this light she noticed a silvery swirl running all the way around the oval glass, a filigree of symbols that could have been the constellations in the night sky.
Look at how beautiful you are.
Elena’s eyes snapped up to her moonlit features, her skin soft and pale. Her eyes were clear and gray, bottomless.
A face like that deserves the world.
Elena nodded, wholly entranced by her reflection, the way the glass rippled, as if she could step right through it into another world.
Deserves everything she wants.
In the mirror, Elena saw herself reaching into her pajama pocket. Saw herself pulling out her phone, smiling as she read a new message.
She blinked and looked down, surprised to find her phone there in her hands. The screen pulsed in her palm and she saw that her admirer had sent her more messages.
As Elena stared at the screen, she couldn’t keep the grin off her face. This feeling of being wanted—it was powerful. It was intoxicating. Should she write back? Just to learn who he was? She liked the attention. She liked the compliments. And Henry would never find out.
Elena looked at the mirror, studying her reflection one last time, those words echoing in her head.
You deserve the world.
And she did.
She looked at her message for a second and then hit send, turning her back on the mirror as she made her way out of the room. She shut the door behind her, so wrapped up in thinking about her secret admirer’s identity that she failed to notice that someone was watching her. Something. Its face pressed right up to the mirror, staring out at her retreating back, a wicked smile curling its bloody lips.
With a sharp thwack, the ball sailed through the air and smacked into the gym floor. In the stands, Grace slid to the edge of her seat, ready to leap up in celebration. But she quickly shook her head and slumped back as the ref blew her whistle and waved her flag high, signaling that the hit had gone long.
The next point. They’d definitely get that one. And then they’d have clinched the first set, halfway to victory. Grace nibbled on the end of her nail as she watched the scoreboard change, the visitors creeping closer. It was now 24–23. Jennings High needed to win this set point or it’d be all tied up.
Grace held her breath as the opposing team served the ball. She watched it float over the net, ready to be passed and set and put away. But their player wobbled underneath the serve. Hesitating, she shanked the ball into the sidelines. The whistle blew again, the ref waved her flag, and just like that, the score was tied.
On the floor, Elena barked out threats, furious that her teammate would miss something so easy. The whistle blew and the visitors served in another ball. But this time the home team managed to get the pass-off. And it was right to Elena, who set it perfectly for their middle hitter.
It was a lightning-fast attack, but the opposing middle had read it. She was there, her arms soaring over the net, blocking off the shot and sending it rocketing right back to the home side of the court.
Instinctively, Elena dove to the side, but she wasn’t the only player going for the ball. With a terrible crash, Elena collided with Steph. Their heads bashed against each other with an awful clunking sound. Their arms tangled together, wrenched into awkward angles.
This time, Grace did jump to her feet, leaning toward the court, almost losing her balance and tumbling down the bleachers. Her fingers dipped underneath her collar and she fished out her locket, holding it tightly against her lips, stretching the thin silver chain. The locket quivered in her mouth as she watched the aftermath, the coaches and players running onto the court while the two girls lay there. Unmoving. Not making a sound.
Out of the corner of her eye, Grace spotted Henry flying through the stands, his shoes screeching as he hit the gym floor, racing toward his downed girlfriend. Grace felt an instinctive urge to do the same. But she knew Elena wouldn’t want her there. She would only call her names for caring. Freak. Or stalker. They weren’t friends anymore. They hadn’t been for a very long time.
Grace planted herself in the stands, her eyes straining to see what was happening as her heart pounded, praying the girls were all right—that Elena wasn’t seriously injured.
A few seconds passed, and then Elena’s arms moved. Her head lifted slowly and she sat up straight. A dazed look clouded her eyes, but then as she turned and saw Steph’s curls on the floor next to her, her gaze narrowed into a murderous glare.
“I’m fine.”
Grace could read Elena’s lips from the stands as she got to her feet and pushed everyone away. She turned her back on her fallen teammate, rolling her shoulders and wrists. Checking that her knees still worked. She didn’t give Steph a second glance. Didn’t offer her a hand up. But Steph managed to collect herself on her own. She got to her feet, rubbing the spot on her head where the girls had collided. No one really seemed to notice, though, as Elena took center stage, shooting the crowd a thumbs-up and getting back into position, barking orders, trying to get the team pumped up. They were down now. They couldn’t afford to lose this next point.
The locket slipped from Grace’s lips. She relaxed but didn’t sit back down. No one in the bleachers did as they watched the next point—the ball served in and passed cleanly, Elena trying to dump it over on the second touch. But the sneaky play didn’t fool their opponents. The visitors dove for the ball and got it up. They were able to run an in-system play off the dig and put the ball away easily, taking the first set.
The crowd groaned and Elena slammed the ball into the gym floor, turning her back on her team and stalking off to the locker room. She wasn’t alone, however, as Steph signaled to their coach and went after her.
A queasiness rocked Grace’s stomach as everyone around her sat back down. In the absence of play, she suddenly felt very much alone. Her head tilted around and she saw Henry sidling through the crowd, stepping from bleacher to bleacher as he took his place back with his friends. The popular crowd.
Grace turned away from them. The high fives, shoulder bumps, and roaring laughter only made her feel more out of place. Like she didn’t belong. What was she doing here? What part of her had thought it was a good idea to come to the volleyball match all by herself? Being there didn’t make her cool. In fact, it made her look sad and desperate. It let everyone know that she was alone.
Ears burning, Grace sat back, hoping to hide in all the other hunched bodies. But right as she hit the hard plank of the bleacher, her eyes caught sight of someone. Someone staring right at her.
Calvin. Also sitting alone. Only he had taken up residence at the very top of the stands, his notebook open on his lap, his fingers curled around a pen, ink staining the side of his hand.
But he wasn’t drawing. Just staring, unblinking, right at Grace. He was staring so intently that she couldn’t sit still.
She shot to her
feet and moved across the bleachers. When she got to the end of her row, she took one last look at Calvin—who by this point had turned back to his notebook—and hurried in the opposite direction.
Luckily, the concessions stand was that way, so Grace didn’t feel like a complete weirdo. But as she moved out of sight, she started to wonder if Calvin really had been looking at her or if it was just her imagination running wild, making her believe what she dreamed of at night.
Her whole face flared with the thought, an entirely different kind of embarrassment scorching her cheeks. She got in line and shuffled forward, grabbing a box of popcorn and paying without looking up. But as she turned to head back to the bleachers, she ran smack into someone’s chest.
Popcorn flew as the box crunched like an accordion between them. An apology spilled out of her mouth as she tried to make sure she hadn’t smashed any butter or oil onto the boy’s shirt with its picture of an old-school werewolf.
Grace froze then and looked up.
“You’ve seen The Wolf Man?” The question was voiced before she could think better of it. “You like creature features?”
“Creature features?” Calvin asked, sounding completely confused. But Grace wouldn’t let that deter her. She had on her Bride of Frankenstein shirt today, the monster’s black hair set in a stiff cylinder, white lightning bolts running up each side, looking like some kind of demon sister to Nefertiti—a queen in her own right.
“Come on.” Grace hoped she didn’t sound too crazed. “That’s the Wolf Man there on your shirt.”
“This?” And Calvin pulled out his shirt to look at the design. “This is just something my mom got for me.”
Grace frowned, unable to hide her disappointment.
“Well, actually,” Calvin added, sheepish all of a sudden. “It’s something she made for me. She got it from one of my sketches. It was kind of a cool birthday surprise.”
