Authors: Crystal Mack
“Sure, thanks,” I reply. I smile, and it surprises me to feel pleased at securing a little more time with him. We both get up to leave when I realize my hands are empty. Oh gosh, my mission—the journal. I can’t leave without it. “Can I have a minute?”
“Yeah, of course.” He stands and gently takes his sleeping sister’s hand. “Please come home soon, Mary,” he says to her. “It’s too much pressure being the most intelligent, attractive child in the house.” He picks up his guitar and slings it over his shoulder. With his dark hair pushed up off his forehead and tall, lean stature so close to me, his words flood my mind.
Just trying to cover all fantasy bases
. “I’ll see you outside,” he says to me.
I start the hunt for the blue leather journal. In such a small space, there are only a few places it could be. I check the closet across the room but it only contains bed linens. There is a cabinet next to the door but it is locked, probably full of medical supplies. Finally, I check the bedside table. On top is a vase of yellow daisies. The drawer is completely empty except for one item—the journal. Jackpot. A nurse must have put it here after Violet left it in Mary’s hand. I quickly scan through the pages filled with writing, formulas, and a few small drawings, and notice a few pages near the end have been torn out. Hmm. Odd. Paper is such a rare commodity, seems wasteful to just rip it up.
Before I go, I squeeze Mary’s hand as Ben did, thinking maybe the familiar feel of her friend’s hand will help. Mr. Kelly’s words return:
I know Mary can sense when loved ones are present
. And though it pains me to do so, I run my hand over to Blue. The ghostly absence of expression returns, but instead of breaking down, I offer her something to hold on to.
Don’t give up Blue
, I think.
Don’t give up the fight
.
Upon connecting consciousness, I hear a low murmur, like an undercurrent trying to break the surface. She struggles, wrestling to articulate a response, but eventually succeeds. One word, released from the depths of her desperation, reaches me, though I am unsure of its intent.
In a creaking, older than death voice, Blue croaks:
“Justice.”
* * 22 * *
T
he word rolls around in my head as I make my way to the parking lot. The first word Blue has probably used in months and she chooses ‘justice’? Why? And for whom? Justice for her Person, trapped in a coma, or herself, unfairly living out the penance of a lower class? I am not sure.
It is nearly noon. Once outside, Violet joins me, a small spot under my feet. I wonder what she thinks about Blue’s message, but I will have to ask later, as Ben is waving me over to his carpod.
A simple act, and yet suddenly I am whisked away, flooded with a vision. Everything is illuminated, much brighter than the afternoon sun could ever burn, the edges of the scene blurred with an amber haze. A boy, dressed in clothes from a different time, stands a distance away. Blue water sparkles on the horizon. He is waving, strong muscular arms poking out from a gray, suspender-strapped shirt. He looks absolutely delighted to see me, dazzling brown eyes filled with love, as if my presence is completing his existence. If it was not for the full, white-toothed grin spread across his face, I could swear it was…
Ben calls out to me, and I am back in the parking lot. A memory, it had to be, only it cannot be Violet’s. I would remember the scene.
“Violet!” I hear, cutting the vision away. “Hey, where’d you go just now?” Ben asks when I make it to the carpod.
“I think I had a flashback,” I say with uncertainty, “only, I can’t remember it ever happening.”
“I had one of those the other day. I was on a boat, or something, and a girl with insanely blonde hair was smiling at me. I’ve never seen her before, but, in that moment, I felt like I knew her my whole life.”
“What do you think it means?” I ask, confused. Why would a Person remember something that had never taken place?
“Who knows?” he shrugs. “Maybe it’s
déjà vu
, something we saw in a past life.”
This gets my attention. A past life? I certainly have one of those. “Do you believe in that? Past lives?”
“Sure, why not? Who’s to say this is my first time around the block?” I am hanging on his every word. “Besides, if I had a girl like that in my last life, maybe I’ll be so lucky again,” he says, his face looking absolutely charming. I can’t keep my cheeks from blushing.
It is a short ride back to Violet’s house. My thoughts are racing but I try to keep my mind in the carpod and not drift elsewhere, though I’m not very successful.
Déjà vu
… I wonder if that’s a real thing, or if Ben is just messing with me as he tends to do. Why would Persons be given the gift to see into past lives, when the Shadows at their feet are desperate to remember even a sliver of theirs? It seems unfair, a waste of abilities. So many have been given so many blessings, when so many have to go without.
“Hey,” Ben says, tethering me down. “Sorry about what I said, in Mary’s room. About her not waking up. I didn’t mean to upset you. You know I don’t really think like that.” He keeps his eyes steady on the passing canyon scenery.
“You don’t have to apologize,” I respond. Clearly, he still needs comfort from his friend. His hand is on the seat, and I reach to touch it, like I intended to in the hospital. The spark reignites, tingling my palm as it rests on the back of his hand. “I am here for you.”
“Thanks,” he replies, turning his glance toward me. The moment our eyes meet, my heart beats faster, and I squeeze his hand tighter out of surprise. What is happening here? Simple expressions of friendship are creating strange reactions when I am around Ben. I don’t understand the change.
But I don’t have time to, as we are pulling in the driveway and someone is waiting on Violet’s front porch. Thomas.
Behind his glasses is a slight look of concern at seeing his best friend drive up with his girlfriend. I know I need to calm any suspicions, for Violet’s sake. Regardless of how I truly feel for him, I still must play my part. I take my hand off Ben’s and feel him watching as I approach Thomas. I wrap my arms around his waist, sensing his body relax at my touch. He runs his fingers through my hair and kisses the top of my head.
“We were visiting Mary,” I say into his t-shirt.
“Oh,” Thomas breathes with relief. “Everything okay?”
“I’m glad you’re here.” I am giving a great performance. I have nothing against Thomas, but wish I could be alone right now. I want to read through Mary’s journal and my heart is still pounding from this morning’s events. I have been given a problem to solve, an opportunity to shed my passive past. I want to dive in, but remember that first and foremost, my Pentral responsibilities must be satisfied. I cannot neglect my duty to Violet.
“Okay, well, bye,” Ben calls from the carpod. I can’t help but think he looks a bit disappointed in my leaving to be with Thomas. That can’t be right though. If anyone should understand the magnitude of Thomas and Violet’s relationship, it’s Ben. He’s watched it play out for years, and has probably had to listen to an entire soundtrack of Thomas’ pining. So maybe Ben and I shared a moment in the carpod that was cut too short, but what can I do? I meant what I said: I, Antares, am here for him. But Violet’s heart belongs to Thomas, so I must concentrate on him first.
We give Ben a wave as he pulls away, and I do my best to apologize with my eyes, sending the lost boy off on his own once again.
“I thought we could spend the day together,” Thomas says. “You up for some lunch?”
“Sounds good,” I reply, still clinging to him. Violet would be proud.
We take a scenic drive through Talline. Without a cloud in the sky, the town is radiating with light. Though red canyon rock peaks out from most structures, the overwhelming element is glass, and every bend in the road gives way to sparkling mirrored structures. As a Shadow, I spent so much time looking at my Person, I never fully took in the world around me. Today, it would difficult to imagine a place more beautiful than Talline.
We sit down at an outdoor restaurant, Rockport’s, near the marina. It has an unobstructed view of the lake. It is a spectacular effect—the mirrored façade of the restaurant echoes the lake, giving the feeling of being surrounded by water. Truly beautiful, and yet as I look around at the other patrons, no one else seems to be enjoying the scenery as much as me. Breathtaking views, bright sunny skies, warm air, but the faces are pulled down, unhappily pushing seafood on their plates. The older diners are doing their best to avoid eye contact with glass, a nearly impossible feat, while the young are completely oblivious. The only smiles come from children.
It is a waste, but for the first time I understand how Persons can be so downtrodden amongst such beauty. I turn directly toward the mirrored wall. My Reflection faithfully glares back, a dark spot in the remarkable scene. It’s like a punch in the gut, a visual rendering of my deepest insecurities and fears. Suddenly, I lose my appetite.
Reflections, horrible mirripulating Reflections, follow everyone, not just myself. They lurk on every corner, crawl out from every surface, following every single Person as they go to work, to school, to dinner, to bed. No wonder the adults of this town always look so depressed; they have been trailed by a hideous creature for a better part of their lives.
I think of the teachers at Talline High, unable to muster any enthusiasm for their profession. No wonder Mr. West stood out in the crowd. He was the only one who knew his Reflection was false. But everyone else… they take what they see at face value. Accept that they are monsters. How could they not? With no other way to see themselves except for the mirror, how could they believe anything else?
I remember standing at the mirror with Mrs. Rayne, her transfixed stare tinged with disgust. When Violet was young, her mom was so full of love and happiness. But every year her light began to fade as she began losing interest in her life and responsibilities. The monster was there, controlling her feelings, messing with her self-perception. Now, Mrs. Rayne can hardly face the day.
And because the Reflections are pulling double duty—torturing their Person while illustrating normalcy to others—everyone is aching in isolation. A whole city suffers in silence, feeling like they are the only ones who look so awful. Mangled crimes against the human form. How demoralizing. How wretched. How evil.
I am seething, red hot like the fury that pushed me here in the first place. I want to scream at my Reflection, all the Reflections in the restaurant. Why? Why are you doing this? Mirripulating your Persons, interfering with their happiness. It is wrong!
I realize I am gripping my butter knife when Thomas says, “Hey there, killer.” His eyebrows are raised in mock concern.
I put down the knife. I should let this go, leave my frustration for another time. I am in Violet’s skin, and she is on a date with her boyfriend. But no, I am too upset to play pretend. “Thomas, do you ever think it’s weird how all of Talline is covered in mirrors?”
“Not really. What else would you use?” he replies.
“I don’t know. Our school isn’t all mirrored.”
“Probably because girls would clog the halls checking their makeup.” I make a disapproving face. He laughs. “C’mon, you know it’s true. I think it’s nice though, the mirrors. Makes everything look bright, beautiful. Of course they can’t compare to you.”
Geez. Violet must be swooning below, but I am not in a romantic frame of mind.
“Sometimes I get sick of it though, seeing myself everywhere,” I say.
“I don’t mind it,” he shrugs.
“Really?” I balk. “Someone is very self-assured.”
Thomas scrunches his face, taken aback. “I mean, I’m not perfect or anything, but I’m not haunted by my reflection.”
Which would make him a first. I take a moment to look him over, this boy impervious to mirrors. Thomas is attractive, no doubt, sporting an unquestionably desirable look. Wavy, sandy blonde hair, golden-tanned athletic frame, even his glasses help add to his allure. He is handsome, but not completely remarkable. Still, has his presence overpowered his own Reflection? Does the Pentral in the mirror see something so appealing it dares not deviate?
I scan the crowd again. At the table next to us sits a couple. Older than us, maybe mid-thirties, but from the way sadness hangs on their faces, they appear much older. They could be friends, siblings, lovers, but it is impossible to guess. They rarely look at each other, let alone exchange words. The mirror to their right has rendered them silent, unable to get past the images beside them.
Yet here sits Thomas, seemingly unscathed by the demons that taunt so many others. Has his Reflection stayed the course and avoided the pressure to mirripulate? Or does this Person just have thicker skin? I have walked the halls hand-in-hand with this boy—he is beloved. The school’s star soccer player, students and teachers alike are always smiling his way, giving him messages of encouragement. Everyone adores him. Maybe that love is enough to fill him up, to keep him from being dragged down like the rest of us. Maybe he just doesn’t care about what is in the glass.
Our waiter saunters up to our table holding a shiny glass tray.
“You two are of age, correct?” he asks. We nod. “Care for an after-meal
Lift!
?”
“No thanks, we’re cool,” Thomas answers for both of us. The waiter moves on to the next table, and I watch the weary couple each take a white pill from the tray. As the capsules are swallowed, a striking, instantaneous transformation takes place. Their demeanors, moments ago clouded in darkness, instantly brighten, and suddenly the two are laughing, holding hands. It is like the sun bursting out from after a storm, even though it has been high in the sky all along. Happiness in a capsule.
I look down at the couples’ Shadows. My heart aches for them, thinking of how their Persons’ escape sends them completely off course. Which is how I feel for the rest of the day with Thomas.
He is a picture perfect boyfriend, stroking my hair affectionately and listening to me when I talk, but his efforts do nothing for me. Sitting through a movie and ice cream afterwards, I will myself to love him for all that he is. Since being in this body, I have experienced a range of human emotions, but love evades me. I try, but it is not there. I cannot force my heart to beat.