Mirrored

by Flinn,Alex

  The next few weeks were the happiest of my life. Greg and I ate lunch together, studied together, I drove him to school. Even Jennifer’s friends were nice to me. They’d seen me pull the dog off her. At first, Greg and I mostly talked about Jennifer, how amazing she was, but soon, we branched off into less-annoying topics, subjects like life, college (we both wanted to be environmental lawyers), current events, subjects an idiot like Jennifer couldn’t possibly talk to him about.

  We planned to see the movie Dead Poets Society, which was playing at the mall. “It wouldn’t be a date,” I told Greg. “We could just go as friends.”

  “I guess it’s okay. Jennifer didn’t want to go to that movie anyway. She said it looked stupid.”

  Jennifer’s stupid. But I didn’t say it. I didn’t want Greg mad at me. I wished there was some magic I could work to make Greg see how awful Jennifer was, how we were meant to be together. I couldn’t use magic to make bad things happen to people, at least not directly. But what about making someone fall in love with me?

  I stopped by Kendra’s house the day of our movie non-date. School was out now, and Greg was visiting Jennifer. I put the question to Kendra.

  “Tell me again why I can’t cast a spell to make Greg love me?”

  Kendra winced. She hated the word spell. Said it smacked of mystical books and the silly TV series, Bewitched, about a housewife who made magic by wiggling her nose. Magic, she said, came from deep within. It was a matter of harnessing it, rather than learning it.

  “You can’t make someone fall in love with you. Love comes from within too.” She reached out her hand, an awkward gesture for her, and touched my shoulder. “Unfortunately, you had several opportunities to work your magic, so to speak, with Greg. It hasn’t worked.”

  “It’s so unfair.” I bit my cuticle. “I have magic powers. I should be able to have anything I want. But this is the only thing I ever wanted.”

  “Is it really? The only thing?”

  I thought about it, shredding my cuticle as I did. Of course it wasn’t the only thing. But Greg was the main thing. Had I gotten him easily, maybe I’d be satisfied, but, as it was, I wanted more. I wanted to be beautiful, more beautiful than Jennifer, than everybody. I was. And powerful. I was that too. But that wasn’t enough, or hadn’t been. I was so sick of people making fun of me that now I wanted to be better than everyone, at everything. And obliterate my enemies. “Okay, maybe he’s not all I want, but he’s the main thing. That and world domination.” I waited for Kendra to laugh, but she didn’t. “But without Greg, I’ll never be happy.”

  “Oh, dear.” Kendra pressed her finger to her brow.

  “What?”

  “I’m just worried you’ll never be happy.”

  I took another bite of my cuticle. This time, it bled, but I immediately stopped it.

  Great. I could save money on Band-Aids. What an astounding ability I had.

  Greg and I did go to the movie, though, which was about this boarding school teacher who encourages his repressed students to pursue their dreams, write poetry, seize the day. Then, one boy kills himself because he wants to be an actor, but his parents don’t see it that way. Of course, the teacher gets fired.

  “So that was a downer,” I said to Greg as we walked through the mall afterward. “The message is that if you write poetry and think for yourself, you end up either dead or so beaten down you won’t dare have an original thought again.”

  Greg laughed. “You’re right. But most of us don’t have parents as bad as that guy’s.”

  “Speak for yourself,” I muttered.

  “I think the real theme was carpe diem,” Greg said.

  It was late, and the mall was nearly empty. I could hear, even feel our footsteps on the white marble floor. We were completely in step, just like when we were kids. I wanted to grab Greg’s hand.

  Carpe diem. Seize the day.

  I didn’t grab it. I was too scared he wouldn’t take it. Still, our arms brushed as we walked.

  “Do you believe that?” I asked. “Seize the day? Do what you want because each day might be your last.”

  “I do. Don’t you?” He stopped walking to look at me. I could see us, reflected in the mall doors, him, tall and dark, me smaller, my hair flowing down my back. We belonged together.

  I shook my head. “Guess I’m more cautious.” Still I wondered how it would be to seize the day, do what I wanted. If I grabbed Greg now and kissed him, would he kiss me back? I looked up at him. His eyes met mine. It would be so easy to do that.

  “You’re so different than you used to be,” he said. “It kind of shows how things can change. One day, you were this ugly duckling. Sorry. But look at you now—a swan.”

  “Thanks.” He would kiss me back. He would.

  “Or what happened to Jennifer.”

  “What do you mean?” I wanted to go back to talking about me, about how I was a swan.

  “That dog could have killed her. And then, she’d have been gone, and she’d never have known how I felt about her. That accident inspired me. You saved her for me.”

  Saved her? For you? You’ve got to be kidding!

  “Can I show you something? I’ve been carrying it around because I’m afraid I’ll lose it.”

  And then before I could say no, no, I don’t want to see anything that has to do with Jennifer, he pulled something from his pocket, a red velvet box, and held it near my face.

  I backed away. “What is it?”

  “It’s a promise ring.” He opened it. There was a silver ring with a heart and the tiniest diamond chip known to mankind in it.

  “Promise? Promise what?” I felt like my legs might buckle under me, like I’d be on the floor.

  “That we’ll get married someday.”

  “Married? You and Jennifer?” I felt the bile coming up in my throat. I couldn’t speak anymore.

  Greg was nodding, grinning like an evil doll in a horror movie. “I’m giving it to her when she comes back to school. Unless you think I should seize the day and give it to her sooner.”

  “I . . . I . . .” I tried to speak but could only choke. I caught sight of myself again in the mall doors. I was so beautiful, so beautiful, so . . . so what? What good was it? It was everything I’d dreamed of, and it wasn’t enough.

  Suddenly the glass door shattered, blowing out like a bomb had hit it.

  “Whoa!” Greg jumped back. “What happened? It didn’t hit you, did it?”

  But it wasn’t like he threw his body over it to save me.

  “N-no.” I saw myself in another door. Then that shattered too. My magic was ungoverned, out of control, getting away from me, and I knew I had to stop before Greg realized it was me, then realized I’d hurt Jennifer. I veered toward the one open door, looking down, half closing my eyes so as not to see myself, and I ran. Beside me, Greg was shouting, “Whoa! Whoa, watch out! What is that?” He put his arm around me, shielding me, and I wished I could pretend he was doing it out of love. But I knew much better. We ran through the parking lot. I dared look up, only to see myself in a car’s windshield. It, too, shattered, but I hoped Greg didn’t notice. I had to get out, get home, get away.

  Finally, closing my eyes entirely, I got to my car. I told Greg I thought there was glass in my eye, so he drove us home, me seeing nothing. Thankfully, talk about flying glass at the mall drowned out any thought about talking about Jennifer. Jennifer. Jennifer. I excused my looking down by crying. From the shock of it, I told Greg. I didn’t have to pretend. My tears were real.

  I should have let her die. I had every chance, but I’d stopped it. Why? Why? What had Jennifer ever done but torment me? Why was I such an idiot?

  I wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  I got home, finally, and groped my way to my bedroom, trying to avoid my mirrored closet door, the giant frame mirror over my dresser
. I didn’t wash my face or brush my teeth, fearing to enter the bathroom.

  But when I stumbled to bed, something cold and hard touched my flesh.

  A mirror. The mirror. Kendra’s same mirror she had given me the first day. How was it here?

  I stared into it. It didn’t shatter. “Kendra?”

  Thus summoned, Kendra appeared. She could see me too, for she stared at me. “My darling, what’s wrong?”

  “It’s useless! He’ll never love me! He loves Jennifer! He wants to marry her. Marry! They’re seventeen! He’s supposed to go to college and be a football star. And my magic is all out of whack. I broke stuff.”

  In the mirror, Kendra nodded, but her eyes narrowed. “Were you at Cutler Ridge Mall?”

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  “The news reported a bombing, broken glass everywhere. But they couldn’t find the bomb.”

  “That was me.” I was shaking, thinking about it. “I couldn’t stop it. I don’t know if I can stop it now. I’m afraid to look at anything.”

  “My darling.” Kendra’s face held all the sympathy I never got from anyone else. “When witches are unhappy, they generally make their displeasure known. It’s unfortunate you were in such a public place, but you must calm yourself now.”

  “So what do I do?”

  “Try to think about someone else. Try to be happy. Concentrate on other things. Your studies. You’re such a smart, wonderful girl. Find someone else. Forget him. Let him go.”

  She was saying all the things my mother should have said, if she hadn’t sucked. Yet it seemed like she was speaking a foreign language. “Forget Greg? I can’t. I love him, only him.”

  “He doesn’t love you. People get over failed romance all the time.”

  “No, never. Don’t you understand? Everyone hates me. Everyone. They won’t even do a dance routine if I choreograph it. They hate me, all of them. I even hate myself. I’m worthless. Worthless. Greg is the only one who ever cared for me, ever saw anything in me but ugliness.”

  “Shh.” Kendra put a finger to her lips. “That’s not true. I love you, Violet. You are my true daughter. And you’ll find someone else, someone better. Someone who will love you.”

  I nodded, but I knew I wouldn’t, couldn’t. I would try to be happy, but the only way I could be was by getting Greg, by plotting Jennifer’s utter destruction. I’d missed one opportunity. I wouldn’t miss it again. Not just a dog bite, something worse.

  I’d have Greg—someday—if it took everything I had.

  “Kendra?” I asked. “Am I the fairest one of all?”

  “Aw, honey, of course you are. Please get some sleep. It will be better. You’ll meet someone else, someone who appreciates you as he never did.”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  And then, she disappeared, and I was looking at my own face.

  I was so beautiful.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  PART 2:

  Celine

  (The Present)

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  1

  When I was eight, my Girl Scout troop went to a sleepover at the zoo. My mom, our leader, had agreed to do it even though animals terrified her—as long as the troop sold enough cookies to cover the cost. I think Mom thought it was a safe bet. We were rich, suburban kids who didn’t have to work for much. But the thing is, everyone wants cookies. We figured if we each sold 150 boxes, we’d have enough for the sleepover and matching leopard print bandanas. Then we nagged our moms to take us door to door or hold booths in front of Publix supermarket so we could make our goal.

  Mom seemed way less excited than scout leaders are supposed to be when she announced we’d made it. I didn’t blame her. She was really scared of animals, and with good reason. When she was in high school, she was attacked by a dog that had bitten her face and arms so badly she needed plastic surgery. After that, she freaked at every barking dog. More than one had come after her. So, of course, we’d had no pets. It wasn’t just dogs that stalked her. A few times, birds had attacked her, and once, when we were bike riding, a squirrel jumped right into her basket, ran up her arm, and grabbed her face. She’d crashed, and I crashed into her. She shook for an hour. So my mother’s fears weren’t unreasonable. But I really wanted to do the sleepover, so she agreed. Besides, the zoo animals were in cages.

  That night, we got to the zoo at six. After a dinner of hot dogs, Cool Ranch Doritos, and pink lemonade (I remember all the details because of what happened after), we went on a special after-hours tour. One of the docents, a strikingly beautiful woman with bright auburn hair, took us first to the reptile house. Mom clutched my hand as we watched the savanna monitor show its pointed teeth. We walked on. Quickly. Next were the wild animals who’d been brought in for the night. The lion roared. Beside me, I felt Mom stiffen. I hugged her in solidarity.

  “It’s okay, hon,” said our tour guide, assuming I was the baby who was scared. “The cage is made of steel and has two separate doors. He’s not getting out.”

  My mother laughed. “I know. I’m being silly.”

  “Not at all. Lions are powerful animals. Better to fear too much than too little.”

  “Thank you.” Mom squinted at the woman. “You . . . you look so familiar. I wonder if we went to high school together.” She touched the scar on her arm. “But no, you’d be too young. You can’t be more than twenty-five.”

  The docent nodded. “I get that a lot. I seem to look like a lot of people.”

  We started to walk back to our sleeping quarters. The zoo at night was an eerie place, full of strange cries and creeping shadows. Above us, the canopied trees seemed to move, even though there was no breeze. Then, I saw a shape.

  “Look! A monkey!”

  It wasn’t in one of the trees contained in a cage. Instead, it was in a ficus tree growing near the path.

  All the girls looked up, picking it out from the shadows. “Aww, how cute,” my friend, Laurel, said.

  “Is it supposed to be out here?” Mom said. “It’s not in a cage. Did it get out?”

  “Oh, Mom, it’s just a little monkey.” I heard her heavy breathing.

  And just as I said, “little monkey,” the creature let out a high-pitched shriek, swung down from the lower branch, then launched itself right at my mother. I stepped in front of it too late. It was on her.

  From a distance, in the dark, it had seemed like a tiny monkey. Close up, it was way bigger, the size of a cocker spaniel, with long, powerful arms. My mother crumpled to the ground, and the monkey was grabbing her hair, pulling it over and over so her head was slamming, slamming, slamming on the pavement. The monkey sunk its teeth into her cheek, her chin. I screamed. I screamed and was kicking at it, over and over, get it off my mother, away from her! My mother must have screamed too, but all I could hear were my own shrieks, see the dark blur of my fellow troop members running for cover, the docent calling for help on her radio, my mother shielding her face, the monkey biting her arms, her legs. I fell backward from kicking, but the monkey was still on my mother, biting her.

  Finally, someone came. They shot the monkey with a dart gun and pulled it off her. It was too late.

  My mother was airlifted to the hospital, but the damage was too great. After a few days in ICU, they took her off life support.

  My mother was dead.

  “It was all my fault,” I kept saying at her wake. Everyone was there, saying things I couldn’t hear, didn’t want to hear. My mother was dead. My mother was gone.

  I couldn’t even see her. It was a wake, not a viewing. The funeral home hadn’t been able to fix h
er up enough to show. Despite her scars, my mother had been a beautiful woman. She’d taken great pride in her looks. She wouldn’t have wanted anyone to see her looking less than her best.

  “Of course it wasn’t your fault,” a woman’s voice said above me.

  I looked up to see an angel’s face with bright blue, almost violet, eyes fringed, long black lashes, all framed by wavy, auburn hair. I recognized her. The docent from the zoo.

  “If anything,” she said, “it’s mine.” She turned to my father. “I’ve been over and over it in my head, so many times, reliving it—how the monkey got out, how I should have seen it first, taken you girls to shelter. Warned her.” As she spoke, a tear coursed down her face. She wiped it away, all the while staring at Dad.

  “Do I know you?” he asked. “You look so familiar.”

  My mother had said the same thing.

  “I volunteer at the zoo,” the docent said. “I took the girls around . . . that night.”

  Dad shook his head. “It was the fault of the zoo management or whoever should have locked that beast in a cage. If volunteers were responsible for safety, that is a sad state of affairs. Poor Jennifer was terrified of animals, and now . . .”

  “I am so sorry,” said the docent.

  Dad’s eyes glistened. He looked at the woman again. “Really, though. You look so familiar.”

  The docent wiped another tear. “Don’t you remember me, Greg? We went to school together. Violet Appel.”

  “Violet?” My father stepped closer, staring at her. “Violet, it’s been so long.”

  I could barely keep my eyes off her myself. I hadn’t seen her that well that night at the zoo.

  My mother had been beautiful, and people said I was too. But this woman, Violet, was different. She was stunning. Like, I actually felt stunned to look at her, like electric shock.