by R. L. Stine
“Maybe it was a carnival mirror,” Lefty said, pushing me out of the way and making faces into the mirror, bringing his face just inches from the glass. “You know. One of those fun house mirrors that makes your body look like it’s shaped like an egg.”
“You’re already shaped like an egg,” I joked, pushing him aside. “At least, your head is.”
“You’re a rotten egg,” he snapped back. “You stink.”
I peered into the mirror. I looked perfectly normal, not distorted at all. “Hey, April, come in,” I urged. “You’re blocking most of the light.”
“Can’t we just leave?” she asked, whining. Reluctantly, she moved from the doorway, taking a few small steps into the room. “Who cares about an old mirror, anyway?”
“Hey, look,” I said, pointing. I had spotted a light attached to the top of the mirror. It was oval-shaped, made of brass or some other kind of metal. The bulb was long and narrow, almost like a fluorescent bulb, only shorter.
I gazed up at it, trying to figure it out in the dim light. “How do you turn it on, I wonder.”
“There’s a chain,” Erin said, coming up beside me.
Sure enough, a slender chain descended from the right side of the lamp, hanging down about a foot from the top of the mirror.
“Wonder if it works,” I said.
“The bulb’s probably dead,” Lefty remarked. Good old Lefty. Always an optimist.
“Only one way to find out,” I said. Standing on tiptoes, I stretched my hand up to the chain.
“Be careful,” April warned.
“Huh? It’s just a light,” I told her.
Famous last words.
I reached up. Missed. Tried again. I grabbed the chain on the second try and pulled.
The light came on with a startlingly bright flash. Then it dimmed down to normal light. Very white light that reflected brightly in the mirror.
“Hey—that’s better!” I exclaimed. “It lights up the whole room. Pretty bright, huh?”
No one said anything.
“I said, pretty bright, huh?”
Still silence from my companions.
I turned around and was surprised to find looks of horror on all three faces.
“Max?” Lefty cried, staring hard at me, his eyes practically popping out of his head.
“Max—where are you?” Erin cried. She turned to April. “Where’d he go?”
“I’m right here,” I told them. “I haven’t moved.”
“But we can’t see you!” April cried.
4
All three of them were staring in my direction with their eyes bulging and looks of horror still on their faces. But I could tell they were goofing.
“Give me a break, guys,” I said. “I’m not as stupid as I look. No way I’m falling for your dumb joke.”
“But, Max—” Lefty insisted. “We’re serious!”
“We can’t see you!” Erin repeated.
Dumb, dumb, dumb.
Suddenly, the light started to hurt my eyes. It seemed to grow brighter. It was shining right in my face.
Shielding my eyes with one hand, I reached up with the other hand and pulled the chain.
The light went out, but the white glare stayed with me. I tried to blink it away, but I still saw large bright spots before my eyes.
“Hey—you’re back!” Lefty cried. He stepped up and grabbed my arm and squeezed it, as if he were testing it, making sure I was real or something.
“What’s your problem?” I snapped. I was starting to get angry. “I didn’t fall for your dumb joke, Lefty. So why keep it up?”
To my surprise, Lefty didn’t back away. He held onto my arm as if he were afraid to let go.
“We weren’t joking, Max,” Erin insisted in a low voice. “We really couldn’t see you.”
“It must have been the light in the mirror,” April said. She was pressed against the wall next to the doorway. “It was so bright. I think it was just an optical illusion or something.”
“It wasn’t an optical illusion,” Erin told her. “I was standing right next to Max. And I couldn’t see him.”
“He was invisible,” Lefty added solemnly.
I laughed. “You guys are trying to scare me,” I said. “And you’re doing a pretty good job of it!”
“You scared us!” Lefty exclaimed. He let go of my arm and stepped up to the mirror.
I followed his gaze. “There I am,” I said, pointing to my reflection. A strand of hair was poking up in back of my head. I carefully slicked it down.
“Let’s get out of here,” April pleaded.
Lefty started to toss his softball up, studying himself in the mirror.
Erin made her way around to the back of the mirror. “It’s too dark back here. I can’t see anything,” she said.
She stepped around to the front and stared up at the oval-shaped lamp on top. “You disappeared as soon as you pulled the chain on that lamp.”
“You’re really serious!” I said. For the first time I began to believe they weren’t joking.
“You were invisible, Max,” Erin said. “Poof. You were gone.”
“She’s right,” Lefty agreed, tossing the softball up and catching it, admiring his form in the mirror.
“It was just an optical illusion,” April insisted. “Why are you guys making such a big deal about it?”
“It wasn’t!” Erin insisted.
“He clicked on the light. Then he disappeared in a flash,” Lefty said. He dropped the softball. It bounced loudly on the hardwood floor, then rolled behind the mirror.
He hesitated for a few seconds. Then he went after it, diving for the ball in the darkness. A few seconds later, he came running back.
“You really were invisible, Max,” he said.
“Really,” Erin added, staring hard at me.
“Prove it,” I told them.
“Let’s go!” April pleaded. She had moved to the doorway and was standing half in, half out of the room.
“What do you mean prove it!” Erin asked, talking to my dark reflection in the mirror.
“Show me,” I said.
“You mean do what you did?” Erin asked, turning to talk to the real me.
“Yeah,” I said. “You go invisible, too. Just like I did.”
Erin and Lefty stared at me. Lefty’s mouth dropped open.
“This is dumb,” April called from behind us.
“I’ll do it,” Lefty said. He stepped up to the mirror.
I pulled him back by the shoulders. “Not you,” I said. “You’re too young.”
He tried to pull out of my grasp, but I held onto him. “How about you, Erin?” I urged, wrapping my arms around Lefty’s waist to keep him back from the mirror.
She shrugged. “Okay. I’ll try, I guess.”
Lefty stopped struggling to get away. I loosened my grip a little.
We watched Erin step up in front of the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, dark and shadowy.
She stood on tiptoes, reached up, and grabbed the lamp chain. She glanced over at me and smiled. “Here goes,” she said.
5
The chain slipped from Erin’s hand.
She reached up and grabbed it again.
She was just about to tug at it when a woman’s voice interrupted from downstairs. “Erin! Are you up there? April?”
I recognized the voice. Erin’s mom.
“Yeah. We’re up here,” Erin shouted. She let go of the chain.
“Hurry down. We’re late!” her mom called. “What are you doing up in the attic, anyway?”
“Nothing,” Erin called down. She turned to me and shrugged.
“Good. I’m outta here!” April exclaimed, and hurried to the stairway.
We all followed her down, clumping noisily down the creaking wooden stairs.
“What were you doing up there?” my mom asked when we were all in the living room. “It’s so dusty in that attic. It’s a wonder you’re not filthy.”
“We were just h
anging out,” I told her.
“We were playing with an old mirror,” Lefty said. “It was kind of neat.”
“Playing with a mirror?” Erin’s mom flashed my mom a bewildered glance.
“See you guys,” Erin said, pulling her mom to the door. “Great party, Max.”
“Yeah. Thanks,” April added.
They headed out the front door. The rain had finally stopped. I stood at the screen door and watched them step around the puddles on the walk as they made their way to the car.
When I turned back into the living room, Lefty was tossing the softball up to the ceiling, trying to catch it behind his back. He missed. The ball bounced up from the floor onto an end table, where it knocked over a large vase of tulips.
What a crash!
The vase shattered. Tulips went flying. All the water poured down onto the carpet.
Mom tossed up her hands and said something silently up to the sky, the way she always does when she’s very pushed out of shape about something.
Then she really got on Lefty’s case. She started screaming: “How many times do I have to tell you not to throw that ball in the house?” Stuff like that. She kept it up for quite a while.
Lefty shrank into a corner and tried to make himself tinier and tinier. He kept saying he was sorry, but Mom was yelling so loud, I don’t think she heard him.
I bet Lefty wanted to be invisible right at that moment.
But he had to stand and take his punishment.
Then he and I helped clean up the mess.
A few minutes later, I saw him tossing the softball up in the living room again.
That’s the thing about Lefty. He never learns.
I didn’t think about the mirror again for a couple of days. I got busy with school and other stuff. Rehearsing for the spring concert. I’m only in the chorus, but I still have to go to every rehearsal.
I saw Erin and April in school a lot. But neither of them mentioned the mirror. I guess maybe it slipped their minds, too. Or maybe we all just shut it out of our minds.
It was kind of scary, if you stopped to think about it.
I mean, if you believed what they said happened.
Then that Wednesday night I couldn’t get to sleep. I was lying there, staring up at the ceiling, watching the shadows sway back and forth.
I tried counting sheep. I tried shutting my eyes real tight and counting backwards from one thousand.
But I was really keyed up, for some reason. Not at all sleepy.
Suddenly I found myself thinking about the mirror up in the attic.
What was it doing up there? I asked myself. Why was it closed up in that hidden room with the door carefully latched?
Who did it belong to? My grandparents? If so, why would they hide it in that tiny room?
I wondered if Mom and Dad even knew it was up there.
I started thinking about what had happened on Saturday after my birthday party. I pictured myself standing in front of the mirror. Combing my hair. Then reaching for the chain. Pulling it. The flash of bright light as the lamp went on. And then…
Did I see my reflection in the mirror after the light went on?
I couldn’t remember.
Did I see myself at all? My hands? My feet?
I couldn’t remember.
“It was a joke,” I said aloud, lying in my bed, kicking the covers off me.
It had to be a joke.
Lefty was always playing dumb jokes on me, trying to make me look bad. My brother was a joker. He’d always been a joker. He was never serious. Never.
So what made me think he was serious now?
Because Erin and April had agreed with him?
Before I realized it, I had climbed out of bed.
Only one way to find out if they were serious or not, I told myself. I searched in the darkness for my bedroom slippers. I buttoned my pajama shirt which had come undone from all my tossing and turning.
Then, as silent as I could be, I crept out into the hallway.
The house was dark except for the tiny night-light down by the floor just outside Lefty’s bedroom. Lefty was the only one in the family who ever got up in the middle of the night. He insisted on having a night-light in his room and one in the hall, even though I made fun of him about it as often as I could.
Now I was grateful for the light as I made my way on tiptoe to the attic stairs. Even though I was being so careful, the floorboards squeaked under my feet. It’s just impossible not to make noise in an old house like this.
I stopped and held my breath, listening hard, listening for any sign that I had been heard.
Silence.
Taking a deep breath, I opened the attic door, fumbled around till I found the light switch, and clicked on the attic light. Then I made my way slowly up the steep stairs, leaning all my weight on the banister, trying my hardest not to make the stairs creak.
It seemed to take forever to get all the way up. Finally, I stopped at the top step and gazed around, letting my eyes adjust to the yellow glare of the ceiling light.
The attic was hot and stuffy. The air was so dry, it made my nose burn. I had a sudden urge to turn around and go back.
But then my eyes stopped at the doorway to the small, hidden room. In our hurry to leave, we had left the door wide open.
Staring at the darkness beyond the open doorway, I stepped onto the landing and made my way quickly across the cluttered floor. The floorboards creaked and groaned beneath me, but I barely heard them.
I was drawn to the open doorway, drawn to the mysterious room as if being pulled by a powerful magnet.
I had to see the tall mirror again. I had to examine it, study it closely.
I had to know the truth about it.
I stepped into the small room without hesitating and walked up to the mirror.
I paused for a moment and studied my shadowy reflection in the glass. My hair was totally messed up, but I didn’t care.
I stared at myself, stared into my eyes. Then I took a step back to get a different view.
The mirror reflected my entire body from head to foot. There wasn’t anything special about the reflection. It wasn’t distorted or weird in any way.
The fact that it was such a normal reflection helped to calm me. I hadn’t realized it, but my heart was fluttering like a nervous butterfly. My hands and feet were cold as ice.
“Chill out, Max,” I whispered to myself, watching myself whisper in the dark mirror.
I did a funny little dance for my own benefit, waving my hands above my head and shaking my whole body.
“Nothing special about this mirror,” I said aloud.
I reached out and touched it. The glass felt cool despite the warmth of the room. I ran my hand along the glass until I reached the frame. Then I let my hand wander up and down the wood frame. It also felt smooth and cool.
It’s just a mirror, I thought, finally feeling more relaxed. Just an old mirror that someone stored up here long ago and forgot about.
Still holding onto the frame, I walked around to the back. It was too dark to see clearly, but it didn’t seem too interesting back here.
Well, I might as well turn on the light at the top, I thought.
I returned to the front of the mirror. Standing just inches back from it, I began to reach up for the lamp chain when something caught my eye.
“Oh!”
I cried out as I saw two eyes, down low in the mirror. Two eyes staring out at me.
6
My breath caught in my throat. I peered down into the dark reflection.
The two eyes peered up at me. Dark and evil eyes.
Uttering a cry of panic, I turned away from the mirror.
“Lefty!” I cried. My voice came out shrill and tight, as if someone were squeezing my throat.
He grinned at me from just inside the doorway.
I realized that it had been Lefty’s eyes reflected in the mirror.
I ran over to him and grabbed him by the should
ers. “You scared me to death!” I half-screamed, half-whispered.
His grin grew wider. “You’re stupid,” he said.
I wanted to strangle him. He thought it was a riot.
“Why’d you sneak up behind me?” I demanded, giving him a shove back against the wall.
He shrugged.
“Well, what are you doing up here, anyway?” I sputtered.
I could still see those dark eyes staring out at me in the mirror. So creepy!
“I heard you,” he explained, leaning back against the wall, still grinning. “I was awake. I heard you walk past my room. So I followed you.”
“Well, you shouldn’t be up here,” I snapped.
“Neither should you,” he snapped back.
“Go back downstairs and go to bed,” I said. My voice was finally returning to normal. I tried to sound as if I meant business.
But Lefty didn’t move. “Make me,” he said. Another classic argument-winner.
“I mean it,” I insisted. “Go back to bed.”
“Make me,” he repeated nastily. “I’ll tell Mom and Dad you’re up here,” he added.
I hate being threatened. And he knows it. That’s why he threatens me every hour of the day.
Sometimes I just wish I could pound him.
But we live in a nonviolent family.
That’s what Mom and Dad say every time Lefty and I get in a fight. “Break it up, you two. We live in a nonviolent family.”
Sometimes nonviolence can be real frustrating. Know what I mean?
This was one of those times. But I could see that I wasn’t going to get rid of Lefty so easily. He was determined to stay up in the attic with me and see what I was doing with the mirror.
My heart had finally slowed down to normal. I was starting to feel calmer. So I decided to stop fighting with him and let him stay. I turned back to the mirror.
Luckily, there wasn’t another pair of eyes in there staring out at me!
“What are you doing?” Lefty demanded, stepping up behind me, his arms still crossed over his chest.
“Just checking out the mirror,” I told him.
“You going to go invisible again?” he asked. He was standing right behind me, and his breath smelled sour, like lemons.
