by Bailey James
Alder rushes over. “Lily! You okay?” He helps me to my feet.
I don’t respond; I’m too busy clenching my teeth against the pain the fall had caused by jarring my arm. The room spins, leaving my stomach on the floor.
“Let’s get you back into bed. You need to sleep.” The sheets rustle as I settle in the middle of my bed, and he pulls them over me. “What were you doing out of bed? Mom said you were supposed to be sleeping.”
“What did you do to my mirror?” I demand, trying to keep my eyes open when all they want to do is close.
His face is a mask of confusion. “Nothing. Why?”
I huff out a breath. “I know you did…something…I…” I lose the war with my eyelids, and I fall asleep before I can finish the sentence.
“Quiet, Rose, you’ll wake her.” Mom’s voice slips through the fog.
“I just want to help. She looked so…awful when she came home.”
“Thanks a lot, Rose,” I mutter, to let them know I’m awake and to stop talking about me. “That’s just what I wanted to hear. Let’s see how you look after going through a guardrail, down an embankment, and almost drowning.”
Mom sighs as Rose gasps like I threatened to kill her puppy.
“Rose, go do your chores,” Mom tells her.
“But, Mom…”
“No buts, young lady. Move.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She grumbles the whole way out the door. I brace myself for the predictable slam, but she surprises me and closes the door quietly.
I peel my eyes open. “Wow, that’s a first. I expected her to slam it.”
“Me, too.” We smile at each other when the door down the hall slams shut. “I’m sorry, honey. We didn’t mean to wake you. How are you feeling?”
“Like crap.”
She chuckles and kisses my forehead. “Are you hungry? It’s dinner time.”
I shake my head. “I’d rather not. The pills are still making me sick.”
“How’s the pain?” She does her mom inspection.
“Fine, for now. I’m a little achy, but my arm and head aren’t too bad.”
She narrows her eyes as she studies me. “Are you lying so you don’t have to take more pain meds?”
I crack a smile. Mom knows me way too well.
I hold up my hand. “No, Mom, honest. Scouts honor. I’ll take a pill if it gets worse, but for now, I’m fine.”
She doesn’t seem convinced but nods. “All right, but I don’t want you doing too much, young lady. Stay in bed. I’ll have your dad bring your TV back in.”
“Really?” I’d gotten grounded from cable, Netflix, Hulu, everything because I’d gotten hooked on the latest Netflix series and hadn’t finished a big history report at the end of the last school year. Since it had made up fifty percent of my grade, I’d ended up with a C. In a last-ditch effort to teach me a lesson before I went off to college, my parents had yanked my television privileges for the summer.
She pats my hand with a smile. “Really. I think, given the circumstances, we’ll just say you learned your lesson, but you must promise to stay in bed.” Then she pulls out a phone from her pocket. “Since your old one is drowning in the murky depths, here.” She hands me the latest version of the iPhone I’ve been coveting since it came out a few months ago. “It’s already had a new SIM put in, so you should be able to send and receive calls. You’ll just have to connect it your account.”
I grin at her. “Thank you so much!” I kiss her cheek. “I love you.”
She leaves the room with a chuckle and an eye roll.
A few minutes later, Dad saunters in wearing coveralls and a backward baseball cap, carrying my television. He’s whistling, and he smiles and winks at me before tipping his hat. “Howdy, missy, I’m here to fix your cable problem.”
I giggle. And now we all know from where Alder gets his humor.
“Daddy, you’re so weird.”
He grins. “Daddy? I don’t know a Daddy. I’m Big John. I’ll have your telly-o-vision working in no time.” He grabs the cable wire and connects it to the box before patting it and then reaching over and doing the same to my knee and handing me a piece of paper. “It’s all set, princess. Here’s the new Wi-Fi password. Just holler if you need anything.”
“I’ve got this, no worries.”
He chuckles as he leaves the room.
Happy, I flip through the channels, then Netflix, then Hulu, trying to find something to watch. Nothing sounds appealing.
“This sucks,” I say to myself, after checking all my options. I turn off the TV, tossing the remote at the foot of my bed before swiveling off the bed and toward my bookcase.
Maybe there’s a book on there I haven’t read.
My eyes glance over the titles, and I pick out one of my favorites. My fingers have just reached for the smooth black cover when a tingle stings the back of my neck. Hesitant, I turn around to face the mirror.
Jackson grins at me from the other side.
My heart drops to the floor. I thought a good nap would have stopped this hallucinating, or whatever it is. But there he is, on the other side of the mirror, smiling at me as if he doesn’t realize my whole world is crumbling around my feet.
He signals for me to step closer. Instead, I take a step back, every single one of my nerves prickling with panic.
“You aren’t real,” I say. I mean, isn’t that what Alice says to get rid of the Jabberwocky in Through the Looking Glass?
He nods, his mouth moving, but, like before, I can’t hear anything. He places his hand on the glass, his eyes pleading with me. I step closer, and he grins, but I don’t touch the glass. I inspect the mirror again, careful to avoid the glossy surface.
There’s nothing behind it.
He stares at me with a knowing look on his face and keeps his hand on the mirror, his eyes darting back and forth between it and mine. I continue ignoring him and go to the other side of the room, standing on a chair to inspect the wall for that projector again.
Nothing.
“Damn it,” I growl.
There has to be a reason for this mess, something more rational than the fact that I’m going crazy. Maybe it’s the pain meds. They do make me feel funny.
Jackson still watches me, a little smile on his face as if amused, but his eyes give away his worry. I give up and stomp over, placing my hand against his. The mirror has that warm, gooey, honey feel again.
“What is this? What is going on?” I demand.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he says, that voice sliding over my heart like sun-warmed chocolate.
“I don’t believe any of this anyway. You’d be hard-pressed to do worse.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, well, this is probably the craziest thing you’ve ever heard.”
“And any of this is sane?” I ask. “I see you in my rearview mirror, crash my car into a lake—where, by all rights, I should have drowned, and yet escape only with a broken arm, a concussion, and a few scrapes—and now I’m talking to a boy in a mirror that feels like honey. Please tell me where sane comes into play.”
He smiles, the one with the dimple. “I guess you’ve got a point.” He takes a breath, eyes still on mine. “I’m from another dimension, and the mirror is one of the portals between mine and yours.”
Seething, I yank my arm from the mirror. Without so much as a backward glance, I storm out the bedroom door, intent on finding my jerk of a brother.
Chapter Three
After a complete circuit of my house and a quick check in the garage, my temper has cooled slightly, but my brother is nowhere around.
Figures the louse is unavailable during his practical joke, I think with narrowed eyes. He knows I’ll kill him.
Well, at least it’s over. I’ll read Alder the riot act when he gets home, and all this nonsense will b
e over. Slamming the door shut after reentering my room, I make my way to my bed. Without thinking about it, I glance at the mirror, stop in my tracks, and narrow my eyes when I see Jackson still there. He raises an eyebrow when I glare at him.
I march over, placing one hand on the mirror and the other at my hip. “How much is my brother paying you?” I demand. “How are you making this work?” The hand at my hip moves to slide up the frame of the mirror.
Jackson scowls. “This isn’t a joke. I don’t know why it’s happened, but it’s for real. I promise.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, like a promise from a stranger means anything to me.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “A stranger who saved your life.”
“After he endangered it in the first place.” I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips. I cross my arms over my chest, immediately feeling a thick silence fall over my ears like I’ve placed sound-canceling headphones over my ears. I have a feeling I won’t be able to hear him without my hand on the glass, so I slide my fingers across the strange, gooey surface just as he speaks again.
“Yeah…about that…I’m sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck, his eyes downcast, almost sheepish.
“You should be. You damn near killed me.” I mock glare at him.
The shadows on his face deepen when he looks back up. “Yeah, and I’ve apologized. What else can I do? Geez, beautiful, it’s not like I’m used to this, you know? I don’t just go blipping in and out of dimensions as I please. I didn’t believe any of this either when it started months ago—”
“Months? You’ve known about this for months?” A tiny bit of hysteria slips into my voice, so I swallow at the lump and let go of the mirror to pace around my room, as little tingles tickle my body. I wrap my arms around myself. “How long have you been spying on me?” I spin around when he doesn’t answer. “How long, Jackson?”
Amusement flickers across his face, and he rolls his eyes to his hand, reminding me.
“Oh, right.” I walk back over, placing my hand on the mirror again. “I guess it only works when we touch, huh?”
“Yeah, I didn’t know that until today.”
“How long have you been spying on me,” I demand again.
His eyes snap to mine and plead with me. “I wasn’t spying on you.”
I lift an eyebrow. Yeah. I’m so not buying that.
His lips quirk. “Okay, maybe I was, but I didn’t mean to,” he finishes rather quickly. “You see, I was in my room playing video games when I heard singing. Beautiful singing. It was like nothing I’ve heard before. I looked everywhere for the sound until I finally realized it came from my mirror. When I looked through it, I saw you. It was you I heard singing.”
He smiles at me, and my heart skips a beat again. I frown, pressing the tips of my fingers to my heart. The one that shouldn’t be skipping beats for guys other than Ty.
Jackson moves his eyes to study the mirror. “I’m not sure why I could hear you then without touching the mirror, and now we can’t, but—”
“You heard me singing?” I whisper. My brain finally seizes hold of the words he spoke and not just focusing on the lips they came from. No one has ever heard me sing; I never let them. Not my parents. Not Ty. No one.
He directs his stunning eyes at me again, pulling my gaze like light attracts moths. “Yes. It was beautiful. Almost as beautiful as the person it came from.” His other hand reaches out and bumps the glass, startling us both.
He hisses while I laughed, a little wildly.
“Yeah, well, this is intriguing and all, but I think I’m going to try and wake up now.”
This is definitely a dream. Only there would a gorgeous guy tell me I was beautiful from the other side of my mirror like some…Magic Mirror from Snow White. Ty’s been the only boy ever to tell me I’m pretty, and I’m not quite sure what to do with someone I don’t know telling me.
“Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars, Place your head on my beating heart, I’m thinking out loud…” he sings in a surprisingly clear baritone.
“…Maybe we found love right where we are,” I finish in a whisper.
No, this isn’t possible.
This has to be a dream. My subconscious is playing tricks on me. That’s how he knows my thoughts, how I hear his voice in my head. And how he knows my favorite song. “This is just a dream,” I tell him, my eyes darting all over the mirror. “When I wake up, you’ll be gone.”
He scowls. His eyes turn from emerald to a juniper green. “This isn’t a dream. You can’t click your heels three times and go home.”
“You’re lying! This is a dream!” I yell, my voice cracking in frantic desperation.
Footsteps thud down the hall as Jackson’s frustrated face dissolves into mine as Mom bursts into the room.
“What’s wrong?” Her fear-filled face turns to mild annoyance when she sees where I am. “Why aren’t you in bed?” She bundles me up in her arms as Dad pushes past my brother and sister, who stand in the doorway. All three of them watching me in confusion and fear.
“What’s wrong? Is she okay?” Dad’s hand falls onto my shoulder.
Alder peers over Mom’s shoulder, his face wrinkled with concern. “How could you?” I demand, tears making my voice thick. “Isn’t it enough I had the accident? Now you have to make me think I’m going crazy, too?”
Shock replaces the concern on his face as Mom spins around. “What did you do to her?”
“Nothing!” He throws his hands up in the air as if surrendering. “I haven’t done anything. I swear. I haven’t seen her since I helped her back to bed hours ago,” Alder says.
“Then what is she talking about?” Dad asks in his I’m-already-over-this-Alder-voice.
“I. Don’t. Know,” Alder says, confusion and hurt written all over his face.
“What are you talking about, Lily? What did Alder do?” Dad asks, his voice gentle.
I scrutinize my brother. He isn’t lying. I know when he is; he always has a little tic in his jaw, but it isn’t there. He just continues to look bewildered and worried. And he’s not the only one.
If he hasn’t done this, and it isn’t a dream, something is wrong. Something is very wrong.
I glance at the mirror, but it’s normal. “Nothing. I…uh…had a dream. I—I dreamed that Alder played a joke on me. I’m sorry.” I look to my feet. “It seemed so real.”
I need time to figure this out. I don’t want to worry my parents. I don’t even know what to tell them that won’t send me straight back to the hospital.
Then again, I ponder. Maybe I should go back. Something is clearly wrong with my head.
“Maybe you should sleep some more, honey. You’ve had a stressful few days.” I don’t have to look to know Mom is exchanging the “look” with Dad.
I nod because the fastest way to get them out is to agree with them. “All right,” I say, and let Mom help me back to bed. Just like she used to do, she covers me up and kisses my forehead before they all leave me alone again.
The minute they leave, I kick off the blankets and run to the mirror. I yank it off the wall and shove it under the bed, ignoring the sharp pain in my broken arm. I sit on my bed and bring my knees up to my chin, hugging my legs with my good arm.
This is ridiculous.
There’s no possible way my mirror is a window to another dimension. That’s stuff from some stupid SyFy movie. It’s not even possible, is it? Other dimensions don’t actually exist outside books and TV, do they?
With a glance at my door, I creep across the room to my computer to do a Google search. Even after more than an hour, I can only find crackpot theories and something called “string-theory” that looks promising but is so wholly over-complicated I’d need a doctorate in mathematics to understand it.
With a huff, I push away from the desk and pace around the room
as I think about the events of the last few days. Jackson may have been in my car all along. That even though I can usually tell when Alder is lying, maybe with all the excitement, not to mention the concussion, I’m not seeing it correctly and he somehow found a way to sneak Jackson into my car. That’s why I’d seen him in the rearview mirror and why he’d been able to rescue me.
Yeah, that’s not only super creepy, but it’s wrong. You didn’t see your reflection, remember? my rational brain points out.
“Good point,” I say. Why didn’t I see my reflection?
If he’d been in the car with me, I’d still have seen myself. But I didn’t. I saw him only, and bits of what I know now is his bedroom. I hadn’t seen my backseat. I hadn’t seen lights from the cars behind me. I didn’t even see the road.
I argue with myself about pulling the mirror back out from under my bed, but my cell phone rings before either side wins the debate.
I’m so distracted by my thoughts I pick up my phone without even glancing to see who it is.
“Hello?”
“Lily!” Tyler’s relieved voice roars through the speaker. I yank the phone from my ear.
“Tyler!” I say in the same shocked way, laughing, my heart beating an extra beat just at the sound of his voice.
“I just heard what happened. Are you okay?” he asks. His voice is breathless.
Guilt wars with jealousy again. I’ve been out of touch for almost forty-eight hours. Why didn’t he call before now? Even if he just found out about the accident, why didn’t he contact me when I didn’t check in when I got home? Or the next morning? Or this morning.
“Uh…yeah. How did you find out? I tried calling a few times, but you never answered.” I pace my room, trying not to let jealousy tint my voice.
“It’s all over the news. I recognized your car. The reporter said you were in the hospital. Are you still?” His voice is strained, and he speaks so fast his words run together.
“No. It’s just a concussion and a broken bone. I’m—”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Tyler replies and disconnects.