by M. E. Eadie
***
During lunch, while they were chewing on their sandwiches brought by Ofelia, Colin decided to confess to Spike and Rhea. The pressure of keeping secret the encounter with himself in the broken tower was building inside him, and he needed to tell someone he trusted. He had managed to dance around the issue with Maestro, but since his encounter with the image in the mirror his suspicions about Grandfather Thunder and Maestro not being trustworthy had been growing stronger.
“You must be crazy!” said Spike rubbing his hand through his hair and shaking his head, “G.T. is on our side, and Maestro, even though his face is creepy, seems all right. I’ll tell you who I think is giving off some questionable vibes, Colin…,” said Spike, stopping abruptly, realizing what he was saying. He didn’t want to attack his best friend.
Colin immediately appealed to Rhea, looking straight into her eyes for support. She only shrugged haplessly. “He does have a point you know.”
“So, I’m the one not to be trusted?” said a wounded and a little bit bitter Colin, who rose to his feet, anger beginning to roil inside him. “I expected you guys to know me better than that, but I guess I was wrong!”
“Sit down!” barked Rhea taking command of the situation and sounding exactly like her Grandma. “We’re not saying you’re the one not to trust,” then she continued in a more patient tone, “but just think about it, where did you see yourself?”
“The tower.”
“Whose tower?”
Then he understood. “Zuhayer’s tower.”
“Exactly!” pointed out Rhea, “In fact, this morning Maestro mentioned to us that a person’s mind resembles a place with many locked compartments.
Colin looked at both his friends, a coldness creeping up over him. “You think the broken tower is the inside of Zuhayer’s mind?”
“Even I think that’s crazy,” said Spike finishing off his sandwich.
Rhea suppressed her irritation and went on. “No, not literally, but how did you know that the image in the mirror was you?”
“It knew things about me that only I could know.”
Rhea put her sandwich down, chewing on her lip. “You know what I’d like to do?”
“What? Score a few goals in the final against the Terminators tonight?” proposed Spike.
“No, I’d like to see that mirror; after all, my mom is a psychologist. I’ve read some of her books. There’s something odd in your story and I’d like to see that mirror myself.”