Through the Glass (A Storybook Novel 1)

by Kira Moericke

  “Is she okay?” Maxwell asks.

  “She’s lost weight,” I say solemnly, staring at my four raspberries.

  “How much?”

  “Enough for a girl her age and size.” I glance nervously over my shoulder to look at the cot where Lynne lays in a small ball. “She needs to eat, Maxwell.”

  “Maybe she’ll be hungry later?”

  “I hope so.” I pop a berry into my mouth.

  “So, did you have any more nightmares?” Maxwell asks, grabbing one of the plastic spoons that are provided, and dips them into his beans.

  “Actually, no.” I smile lightly at him. “And thank you for last night.”

  “No problem.” He looks away and stretches his long legs out so that the bottom of his shoes touch the door leading out towards the hallway.

  I sigh and eat my last raspberry. My mind keeps spinning around the idea of Lynne not wanting to eat, as I try to figure out what’s wrong with her. Could she be sick? I hope not. If she is, there will be nothing Maxwell nor I can do.

  Then it occurs to me.

  I slowly tilt my face upwards and look at my reflection and my limp hair that falls in greasy snarls down my back. Hate for whoever is up there looking down on us stirs within me.

  You, I think. You could help.

  “Sarwa?” Lynne calls weakly from the cots.

  “Yes, Lynne?” I get up and walk over to her. Kneeling down, I brush some fuzz off her warm forehead.

  “I have to go to the bafwoom,” she says softly.

  “Okay.” I grab her and help her off the bed. We cross the Salmon Room and into the bathroom.

  Lynne seats herself on the toilet as I sit on the edge of the bathtub, struggling to ignore the rotting mouse. She turns her head towards me and looks at me with her sad brown eyes. “Sarwa, my tummy hurts.”

  “You’re probably hungry,” I say. “You haven’t eaten anything in over a day.”

  After a moment, Lynne hops down from the toilet and cleans herself the best she can. When she’s done, she flushes the toilet then heads for the sink to wash her hands. “Can you help me?” She stands on tiptoes in attempt to reach the handles on the faucet.

  I stand up and wrap my arms around her, lifting her up. I keep one arm around her as I use my other hand to turn on the faucet for her. I let her soak her hands, pump soap into them, and rinse them off, before turning off the water and placing her down on the floor.

  “Can you try eating something?” I ask Lynne as sweetly as I can without putting too much concern in my words. I grab the roll of paper towel and rip her a sheet.

  “But my tummy hurts,” Lynne repeats.

  “Just try to eat a little something,” I say, opening the door for her. I wait for her to walk into the Salmon Room before following. We both make our way back to the tray of food and sit down, joining Maxwell, who is just finishing up. “Now eat some beans. They’re the yummy ones.” I hand her a plastic spoon.

  Lynne takes it, carefully dips it into the cold pile of beans, and takes a bite.

  “See? They’re yummy.” I grab the last spoon and eat some beans from my pile. “Eat a little more, okay?”

  Lynne dips her spoon back into her pile and takes another careful bite. Her face twists, and she makes a little noise I recognize from when she used to fight with Mom about eating foods she didn’t like. “I don’t like it.”

  “How don’t you like them?” I ask her.

  “It’s icky,” she replies, dropping her spoon back onto the tray.

  “I thought you like brown beans,” I say, my eyebrows furrowing. “You used to eat them at home.”

  “Nunh-unh.” She shakes her head.

  “Please just eat a little more.” I pick up her spoon with some beans balancing on the tip, and hold it out to her.

  “I don’t want to.” Lynne puts her hands in front of her mouth again.

  “Then eat your berries,” I say.

  Slowly, Lynne uncovers her mouth and picks up a raspberry. She looks at it for a moment then bites the tip off. She chews with a shadow of dislike on her face.

  “Good girl.” I turn back to my food, scoop my spoon into my beans, and take a bite.

  “So you got her to eat something?” Maxwell watches Lynne from the other side of the tray.

  “A little bit at least.” I look back at Lynne, who glances up at me, feeling my gaze on her. “She said her stomach hurt her. I’m hoping she’s just hungry, though.”

  “You think she could be sick?”

  “I hope not.” I look away. “But it could be.”

  “Is she warm?”

  “I didn’t check.” I lean towards Lynne and place the back of my hand against her forehead. “Yeah, a little.”

  “Maybe she should lie down,” Maxwell suggests.

  “But I want her to eat something.” I look at him, panic quickly filling my chest, making it feel tight.

  “Put her on the bed, keep her propped up, and bring the food over to her,” he says.

  “Come on, Lynne.” I place down my spoon and scoop my sister up. I carry her to the cot where I gently set her down with her back against the wall and stuff the blanket around her body. “Are you warm?” I ask.

  She nods. “Can I have something to dwink?”

  “Sure.” I get up and head over to where Maxwell and the tray are, and pour some water into one of the flower-patterned Dixie cups. I take it over to Lynne. “Here you go.”

  Lynne takes the cup in both hands and carefully tips it. She sips it, craning her neck back to get every last drop, then hands the cup back, and wipes her mouth with her arm.

  “Do you want more?” I ask, taking the cup.

  Lynne shakes her head and inches down. “Can you read to me?” she asks weakly.

  “Cinderella?” I ask, even though I don’t want to read. Instead, I want to grab a raspberry and force her to eat it.

  Lynne nods, closing her eyes.

  “Okay.” I reach under both cots and grab the book I had stuffed under our cot before Maxwell pushed them together. I open it to the page I had dog-eared, smooth out the crease, and begin to read.

  The words slip from the tip of my tongue and out past my lips, even though my mind isn’t focused on the them. They’re just letters printed on creamy, white pages instead of letters that build a story. My mind doesn’t focus on what is in front of me, but instead focuses on what is to come. If Lynne gets sick and doesn’t eat, she could get worse and . . . I don’t even want to think about it. It’s like one of my nightmares just without me being “the one” at the end. What would I do without Lynne?

  I know what I would do, I think, picturing me screaming and thrashing, tearing the room apart. I know words I don’t usually use–or at least, try not to use–would come pouring out of my mouth without control and my face would be swollen from crying so much. I can picture Maxwell trying to calm me down, but I’d be too crazed. I would be a monster that no one would be able to tame.

  “You repeated that line.” Maxwell’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

  “What?”

  “What you’re reading? You read that already.” He gets up from the floor, carrying the two pieces of bread that I haven’t eaten to the adjoining cots, and sits down.

  “I did?” I look back at the book and skim over the words that my finger is under, and a faint recollection of reading them slips out from the far corners of my mind. “Oh. Sorry.” I shake my head and begin to read again.

  “She’s asleep, Sara,” Maxwell says softly.

  “Huh?” I turn to look at Lynne and find her sleeping peacefully beside me. “No. She can’t be asleep again.” Placing the book down, I shake her lightly until she stirs, making a little groaning noise. “Lynne, wake up.”

  “Why do you want to wake her?” Maxwell asks, frowning.

  “Because she needs to do something. If she keeps sleeping, she’s just going to keep getting weaker.”

  “She might be sick, though.”

  “But
she might not be.” I shake Lynne a little harder until her eyelids flutter open. “Lynne, do you want to play a game?”

  “Like what?” she asks, squinting.

  “Do you want to play hide-and-seek?” I ask softly.

  Lynne sits up and nods her head.

  “Yeah,” she mumbles as she brushes some hair off her face.

  “Okay, come on.” I scoot to the foot of the cot to get around Maxwell and wait so I can help my sister down. When she gets her feet on the ground, she walks to the center of the room, and turns to me expectantly. “Do you want to hide or count first?” I ask.

  “Hide,” she replies in a small voice.

  “Okay. I’m going to close my eyes and count to ten while you hide, okay? If you need help, ask Maxwell.”

  She nods, and a small smile slips across her face for the first time since she woke up earlier today.

  “I’m going to start counting now.” I turn around, facing the door, and cover my eyes with my hands. “One . . . Two . . . Three . . .” I can hear Lynne running around, looking for a place to hide. “Four . . . Five . . . Six . . .”

  “You’re going to hide there?” Maxwell asks Lynne in a loud whisper.

  “Yep,” Lynne chirps back.

  “Eight . . . Nine . . . Ten. Ready or not, here I come.” I drop my hands from my eyes and turn around. I can hear Lynne from behind the boxes, but I know the untold rule for playing hide-and-seek with younger kids. Glancing towards the cot in the opposite direction of the boxes, I call out, “Where are you?”

  From the crumpled boxes, I hear Lynne stifle a laugh.

  “Lynne, come out, come out, wherever you are.”

  “What are you doing?” Maxwell whispers to me.

  “Playing along,” I whisper back, tossing the blankets around. Then I say louder, “Oh my goodness, Lynne. Where on earth could you be?”

  “Over here!” Lynne calls from the other side of the room.

  I spin around, a smile slipping across my face. Slowly, I creep across the room, making sure to make some noise to make it sound like I’m picking things up and actually looking. “Lynne, where are you? Did you disappear?”

  “Nope!” she calls out.

  “Are you over here?” I swing open the bathroom door and look around. The dead mouse is still in the tub, making my smile falter just a bit. I spin around, making sure my smile doesn’t fall off my face, and close the door. “Nope, not in there.”

  Lynne giggles from where she hides.

  “Maybe she’s over here?” I wander over to the corner where the dresser sits. “Nope, not over here either.” I walk around the room, glancing under the cots, and look around, hoping to indulge her. “Lynne, you’re hiding too good. Where are you?”

  “Here I am!” She jumps out from behind the boxes with her arms up in the air. I fake a surprised face with wide eyes and my mouth in the shape of an O.

  “Oh my gosh. Where were you hiding?” I ask, pretending to be confused.

  “Over there.” Lynne points to the boxes. “You couldn’t find me,” she sings.

  “Well, you were a really good hider.”

  “Your turn to hide,” Lynne says, rushing over to me. She places both hands on my legs and gives me a little two-year-old push.

  “My turn?” I take a step back. “Okay, but you have to close your eyes and count.”

  “I will.” She hurries to the spot where I had been when I had counted, covers her eyes, and starts to count. “One . . . Three . . . Five . . .”

  I don’t know when she will get to ten in her way of counting, so I hurry across the room, into the bathroom, and hide between the open door and the wall. I can see into the Salmon Room in the crack by the hinges.

  “Nine . . . Seven . . . Forw . . . Ten. Wedy or not, here I come.” I can see her wobble across the room towards Maxwell and ask him, “Can you help me?”

  “Help you?” Maxwell stands up and hunches over as so he can hold onto Lynne’s small hand that she has stretched out for him to take. “Do you need my help?”

  “Yes, pwease.” She pulls him across the room. “Do you know where she is?”

  “I think she might have went into the bathroom,” Maxwell replies in a tone I’ve never heard him use before. The voice he had used the night of my nightmare was soft and caring while the tone he uses now is more high-pitched and childish. It’s kind of cute.

  “The bafwoom?” I can hear her feet pad softly against stained, matted carpet in the Salmon Room. “Sarwa?” She peeks her head into the room and looks around. I watch her through the crack of the hinges with my breath held. I exhaled when she finally pulls her head out of the room, and looks at Maxwell. “She’s not in there.”

  “Did you look behind the door?” Maxwell calls not far away.

  Lynne steps back into the room, grabs the edge of the door, and pulls it towards her, expanding the gap I’m hiding in.

  “Sarwa! I found you!” A giant smile rushes across her face as she opens my gap wider and lays both of her hands on my legs. “My turwn to hide.”

  “Okay.” I smile and walk out from behind the door and into the Salmon Room where I find Maxwell leaning against the dresser with a smile on his face. For a moment, unwanted butterflies make my stomach all loopy, and my mind goes thinking; Wow. His smile suits him. It’s broad and confident, and it has that special thing that’s like a beacon to others to smile. That beacon works on me because I smile back at him.

  Caitlin, a little voice in the back of my mind says. His girlfriend, Caitlin, is waiting for him.

  “Now you close your eyes,” Lynne demands.

  I turn to Lynne and almost gasp. She’s bent over, picking up food that rests on the tray, and pops them in her mouth.

  “You’re eating,” I say softly.

  Lynne nods, bending down to pick another raspberry from her pile.

  I look back towards Maxwell to see that he’s looking at Lynne the same way I had looked at her; with confusion. I turn back to Lynne, who is now grabbing the rest of the rest of the berries. She eats all of them before turning her attention back towards me.

  “These arwe yummy,” she states.

  “Yes,” I say, still stunned. About ten minutes ago, she had refused to eat anything, now she’s eating handfuls. “Are you going to eat your breakfast now?”

  Lynne nods and plops her butt down on the carpet.

  I walk over to her and sit down, picking up the plastic spoon I had Lynne use to eat her beans. To my surprise, she takes it and dips it into the pile of cold mushy beans. With the beans piling high on her spoon, she brings it to her mouth and takes a giant bite.

  “Did playing make you hungry?” I ask, curious about her sudden appetite.

  She nods, her cheeks full of beans. She reminds me of the Disney chipmunks, Chip and Dale.

  “Are you still going to want to play afterwards?”

  She nods.

  Standing up, I look at Maxwell, confused. I walk over to him and ask, “Do you think she just needed to do something to get hungry?”

  He shrugs, still looking at Lynne. “If we were out of this hellhole, we could ask Cal. He’d probably know.”

  Cal, I think, remembering the conversation we had early last night. Maxwell’s older brother.

  “I hope it’s just that she needed some exercise,” I say, my eyes fixed on Lynne.

  “But is that a good thing?”

  “What do you mean?” I turn to look at him. “It is, isn’t it?”

  “Well, if she exercises, she burns calories, which makes her lose weight. And if we only get this little bit of food every other day, she’s going to lose more calories than she consumes.”

  “You’re right.” His words slam into me hard. Fearful, I turn to look at Lynne, who has finished her beans and is now nibbling on her dry bread. “What are we going to do?”

  Maxwell is quiet as he thinks. Then, slowly, he tilts his head up towards the mirrored-ceiling. “You!” he shouts. “If you want us to live down here,
you actually have to feed us! Or is this your plan? Is this some kind of sick experiment?! Are you trying to see how we act and live down here? Are you trying to get us to go against one another?” He bends his knees and jumps, hammering a fist against the mirror. A crack creeps where his fist had landed against the glass surface. When he lands back on his feet, I see that his knuckles are red. “Well,” he shouts again, “it’s not going to work!”

  “Maxwell,” I say reaching out. I lay my hand on his arm, hoping to cool him down. Instead, warmth seeps into my fingers and soars up my arms and throughout my body. Terrified of the feelings I’m feeling, I snatch my hand away from him.

  Maxwell looks at me, his eyes squinted slightly, but then Lynne’s voice pulls our attention towards her.

  “What?” I turn to look at her, crossing my arms tightly over my stomach. Embarrassment floods through me, and I can feel my cheeks turn a light shade of pink. I’m grateful my back is towards Maxwell so he can’t see how embarrassed I am.

  “Do we have any morwe water?” Lynne looks up at me expectantly.

  “Yeah, we should.” I rush forward, grateful for an opportunity to get away from Maxwell. Sitting on my knees, I grab the plastic pitcher and pour more water into Lynne’s Dixie cup. “Here you go.”

  Lynne picks up the glass from where she had it sitting on the tray and takes a sip. When she pulls the glass away, she asks, “Can we play hide-and-seek some more?”

  I know what Maxwell said about her losing more calories than she takes in, but I want her to be happy. And besides, that little game couldn’t do too much damage to her. “Sure. Is it your turn to hide?”

  “Yep.” She gets up and brushes her hair out of her face. “Now count to ten,” she orders, then takes off running towards Maxwell and whispers loudly, “Can you help me?”

  I turn to face the door again and start counting while listening carefully to Lynne as she hurries off in the direction of the bathroom with Maxwell following. I count loudly as I try to think where she could be hiding. When I get to ten, I’m pretty sure I know where she is.

  “Oh, Lynne,” I call, cautiously stepping across the carpet. From the bathroom, Lynne giggles. I step into the bathroom and see Maxwell sitting on the toilet cover looking at the little cupboard beneath the sink. “Oh were could she be?”