by Bailey James
“Research? You guys actually know about other dimensions?”
He sends me a look that’s one part frustrated and one part amused. “You know this would be easier if you stopped interrupting.”
“Oh. Sorry.” I look down at the floor again and bite my lip. I’m always interrupting people; too curious for my own good, Mom would say. Most everyone gets used to it, but I don’t want him annoyed. Not at me anyway. It actually hurts me to think of him annoyed at me.
What’s with that?
I glance up when there’s a soft thud and the sound of his groan.
“What?” I ask.
“It’s nothing.” When I give him a look, his shoulders sag. “I tried to touch you, and I forgot I couldn’t.”
“Touch me?” The thought sends a thrill through my body.
He blushes. And it’s totally adorable to see the little flags of red on his cheeks. I’ve never seen a boy blush before. It makes me want to say something to see it again.
“Uh…yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck. “…what I said came out sorta harsh. I wanted you to look up at me, so I reached out my hand and hit the glass.” He clears his throat and finally meets my eyes. “Anyway, I’m sorry for being harsh. Besides, if a guy can’t be annoyed with a gorgeous girl every now and then, what’s the point of being alive?”
Oh. I snicker, even as a blush heats my own cheeks, and those frogs—Butterflies? Frogerflies?—start a marching band in my stomach.
“Thanks. Anyway, go on. I’ll keep my lips zipped.” I remove my hand from the mirror to mime the action of zipping my lips before making contact again.
His smile makes me want to sigh like the girls in romance movies.
“So, to answer your question, there’s not much on other dimensions here, either, but a few of the people that everyone thinks are crackpots seem to know the most.” He stops and waits, gazing at me with a smirk.
“What?” I ask, confused. I glance behind me, sure someone is watching.
“Aren’t you going to ask a question?” he asks with a smile when I turn back.
I mock glare at him. “Ha, ha. Very funny,” I say, but he keeps waiting. I roll my eyes and huff out a breath. How does he know me so well already? “Okay, so the crackpots know the most. How did you know it’s for real? I mean, not all the weird stories are true, are they?”
He grins. “That is an excellent question. I gave up on conventional theories and started reading the stupid ones. You know, the ones where aliens come and stick things in odd places,” he says, and his dimples pop out when I giggle. “But the more I started reading, the more I found, in certain stories, some things were very similar. The mirror, for instance. How it only works through mirrors. At first it seemed only heterosexual couples were impacted, but then I found accounts from a lesbian couple, another from a gay couple, and even one where one of the partners were nonbinary.”
I open my mouth, but slam it shut when I realize I have no idea what to make of that. There doesn’t seem to be a rhyme or reason to any of this.
“There wasn’t much to go on; it’s mostly innuendo since strange things happen to the ones involved.” He shrugs.
I wonder what could be stranger than seeing another dimension through your mirror.
“Strange things?”
“Yeah, like the people who disappeared, although I suppose we have an answer for some of that, or the woman who turned up dead on my side.”
I nod. “Right. Okay. Why is this happening?”
Jackson shakes his head. “No one knows. There’s a group on the internet who claim it as a doomsday prophecy, but I’m pretty sure that really is just BS.”
“Why?”
He gives me another look. “Come on, Lily, a doomsday prophecy? That’s even more ridiculous than…” he trails off and stares at his feet.
“Than parallel dimensions?” I finish for him.
He nods but doesn’t look up.
“Why are you so advanced?” I ask, unable to hide my curiosity about his world anymore. Plus, learning about his world has to be less frustrating than trying to figure out they mystery of the portal. “What was different in your history than mine?”
“Oh, that’s easy; I think. In first-century Greece, Heron of Alexandria developed the steam engine. From my research, I think in your timeline, emperor Vespasian destroyed it. He worried it would cause civil unrest with his slaves.”
I shift, causing my fingers to squeak across the glass. “How would that cause a revolt?”
“Well, from what I can find out, they weren’t slaves in the traditional sense of the word. More like servants. They were actually paid for their services. Very little, even for back then, but they were paid. Since the steam engine would have made construction easier, the emperor thought it would put his slaves out of work and feared that would cause the slaves to revolt against him.”
“Okay, so I’m assuming, in your timeline, that didn’t happen.”
He beams at me. “No. In fact, he welcomed it with open arms. Encouraged more people to invent more and more things. It was the start of scientific advances you could only dream of.”
I bet. “How do you know all this if you haven’t ever been here before?”
Those dimples pop out again. “I’ve been researching it. I learned a bit from Rowan’s information on the internet, and there are some others. Most people think they’re crackpots—and, to be fair, some are—but there are plenty out there who aren’t, and their information is fairly accurate.”
“Oh.” I’m beginning to sound like a broken record.
“Is it true?” he asks.
“Is what true?”
“About Emperor Vespasian. Did he really destroy Heron’s steam engine?”
“I…don’t know. I’m not much of a historian. I’m more of a book nerd.” I send him a look of apology and kick myself for not paying more attention in history class. Is that even something they teach in class?
“So, are all book nerds the same there?” His dimple winks as he grins.
“I’m sorry?”
“Are all book nerds beautiful? Or just the ones that aren’t historians?”
The heat of my blush burns from my toes to my nose, and little, tiny butterflies batter themselves stupid against my stomach lining. I’m pretty sure all my blood has been exchanged for champagne, too, because little tingles spread throughout my body.
I can’t force myself to meet his gaze. Every time I try look up at him, the blush blazes hotter, and I find myself staring at the ground again.
I don’t even know what to say to that, so I clear my throat instead. “So…what else is there?”
Through my lashes, I see his face fall. “There isn’t much else. That seems to be all anybody got before they disappeared or were killed.”
I swallow the lump in my throat at the sobering thought. “Okay, well, first free lesson. We don’t post on the internet.”
His eyes search my face; relief flickers in his gaze. “You believe me? That all this is happening?”
“Well, I either have to believe it or accept the fact that I’ve lost my mind. I prefer the first option.” I touch the bandage on my forehead.
He reaches out and bumps the glass again. “Damn it,” he says, under his breath. “I’m sorry for scaring you. It must have been a shock to see me.”
I let out a quick laugh. “You can say that again. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I thought there was a serial killer in my back seat or something!”
He winces. “I am very sorry. I wasn’t expecting to see you in your car. Or that you’d see me back. That’s the first time that’s happened. I usually only see you here. I was going to step away from it, but…” he trails off, not meeting my eyes.
“But what?” I ask, trying to get him to lift his head.
“But…uh…you
looked up before I could.” I’m pretty sure that’s not what he was going to say, but he continues before I can call him out on it. “The next thing I know, I’m watching the whole accident. I knew there was nothing I could do to help, but I had to try. I was terrified I was going to lose you without ever getting to know you. So, I pressed my hand hard to the glass. To my surprise, it slid through—”
“Wait! What? You’re telling me you were able to fit through my rearview mirror?”
He frowns, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Uh…yeah, I guess I am.”
“How?” I demand.
He shrugs. “I don’t know. One minute I’m pressing myself against my mirror, panicking I’d be too late; the next, I’m in your car, screaming your name. I didn’t even think how it was possible; my only thought was getting you out. Then, when I was sure you were okay, I went and watched over you from a little way away until they came and took care of you.”
I squeeze the bridge of my nose with my fingers. This is getting ridiculous. “But why didn’t you stay?”
He rubs a hand over his face. “I wanted to,” he says, finally, “but, one: I didn’t think you’d believe me if I just told you I was from another dimension, and two: I didn’t want to risk getting caught lurking about and being arrested for something. I’d hate to see what would’ve happened to me if they found out I’m not in their registry.” He shudders.
Puzzled, I ask, “Registry?”
“You don’t have a registry?” At my blank expression, he says, “In my world, all citizens are required to register from birth. You don’t have that?”
“Register?” This is so sounding like 1984. I guess my teacher was right about needing to know about the ideas “presented in the book” after all.
“Uh, yeah.” Jackson runs his fingers through his hair again.
It’s then I notice his hair is actually a dark brown, not black like I’d thought when he’d rescued me. It’s a very pretty brown, with little flecks of gold and red mixed in. Right now, it’s all tousled from his hand, but…wow.
“Okay, let me see if I can explain this right.” His voice pulls me out of staring at his hair, and I blush and avert my gaze as he continues. “So, do you have a…uh… global government?”
I shake my head and press my lips together. “Each country has its own.” I bite my lip in thought. “Well, actually, we have the United Nations, but I don’t think they really run anything. It’s more of a policing organization. They promote international peace, security, cooperation, that kind of thing.”
“Okay, well, in our world, we have the WARMACs.”
“The Warmacs? What’s that?”
“It stands for the: Worldwide Administration of the Regulation and Management of Anthropomorphic Creatures. They—”
“Wait! What? What the heck are anthroporphic creatures?”
He laughs. “Anthropomorphic. You know, like, humanoids?” He must see that I don’t understand because he goes on. “In our world, we have managed to create things through genetic engineering. We have all sorts of cool creatures.” He gets up to bring the blue plant I’d noticed closer to the mirror.
I look closely and discover that the gold flowers aren’t flowers at all. They’re actually little faces. There are hundreds of little faces on it. I rip my hand away from the glass, stifling a scream as I stumble backward.
Jackson taps the glass with one finger until I carefully reapply my palm, trembling.
“Lily, it’s okay. Breathe, baby. Take a deep breath. She’s not going to hurt you. Remember, she can’t get through the glass.”
“It’s a she?” I gasp out, dragging air in as fast as I can.
He nods, keeping his eyes on me. “This is my pet. Her name is Alyssa. I named her after her golden faces.”
Alyssa. He named his plant Alyssa. Where’s the Cheshire cat? He should be popping up any minute now to tell me a riddle I’m too dumb to figure out.
Focus!
I take another few deep breathes before saying, “Okay, so if she could get through the glass, could she hurt me?”
“Well, she won’t hurt you, but she is carnivorous.” He watches my face as he says it.
My vision tunnels and black spots form in front of my eyes as I shove backward. My entire body tenses for attack. My back hits my bed, but I keep trying to push myself farther from the mirror.
Jackson’s hand is still on the mirror. His eyes bore into mine, pleading with me. “Please, don’t be afraid,” he mouths, over-exaggerating the movements.
My breath clogs in my throat as I press further into the bed. Afraid? No afraid isn’t the right word. Terrified is better. My eyes wheel around my room, looking—for what? I have no idea.
Jackson smacks the glass, and I glance back over. “She’s gone,” he mouths.
I glance at his hands and see them empty, but that doesn’t stop the shaking. I doubt I’ll ever be able to look at another plant the same way again, but I force myself to crawl back to the mirror.
With a deep breath, I replace my hand on the glass, letting the warmth ease the tension. Jackson immediately starts talking. “She won’t hurt you. She does eat meat, but she won’t attack you even if she could get through.” I only continue to stare at him, my eyes wide. He splays his hands across the glass in a placating gesture. “Okay, think of it this way. You have a dog, right?”
“Yes. Daisy.” She’s a yellow lab and as close a friend as a dog can get. I miss her. She’s just downstairs, but Mom won’t let her up here with me, and I could really use some lab cuddles.
“Well, a dog is a carnivore, right? But you’re not afraid she’s going to eat you in your sleep.”
I actually have to snicker at the thought of my sweet Daisy doing anything besides licking someone to death. “Yeah, no, I’m not worried about that.”
“Okay, well, Alyssa is kind of like a dog except she’s a verdure.”
“A verdure?”
“Yes, it’s the species. Like a dog, cat, lion, whatever.”
Okay. Alyssa’s like a dog. I let out a breath. I can handle that. I think. My breath comes a bit easier; my heart rate slowly returns to normal. “Okay. Just keep her away from me for now, all right?” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. It’s not like she can get through the glass anyway.
He nods, looking a bit like a bobblehead. “Fine, great. Wonderful. Okay, so where was I?”
I scrunch my nose in thought. “Uh, anthropo-something creatures.”
He shakes his head as he laughs. “Anthropomorphic. Okay, well, the genetically engineered animals and plants aren’t considered human and, therefore, are considered lesser beings. They are ruled by different laws, but ultimately they’re overseen by the humanoids.”
Whoa! That’s a little crazy but cool, though. “So, what’s this WARMAC thing?”
“Our worldwide governing body. It makes the laws, and we have to follow them. It works similar to your governments, I assume.”
“And registering?”
“To keep law and order, it’s been established that every creature is required to be registered from birth or their manufacturing date—in the case of the GECs. Genetically Engineered Creatures,” he goes on when he sees my expression.
“So, how do you register?” This is getting stranger and stranger.
“Well, at birth, they take a retinal scan, a DNA sampling, and fingerprints. Every two years until we are thirteen, they do it all again—”
“Why?” I interrupt. “That stuff never changes.”
He smiles as if I’m a prized student, and I guessed the right answer. “Yes, that’s true, but…ah…some of the children develop abilities because sometimes when they have to use the nanobots. In children it can have unintended side effects. Because children are still growing and things aren’t…uh…connected or set in stone as if they’re adults, the nanobots ma
y see these things as broken and try to ‘fix’ them.”
“What abilities?”
He fidgets for a minute but says, “Well, telepathy, telekinesis…ah,” he glances up, his expression darkening with worry, “invisibility, levitation…stuff like that.”
I blink. Does he honestly expect me to believe that? Sure; why not? None of this makes sense anyway. Might as well add those things to the list.
“Okay.”
He seems as skeptical as I am at my easy acceptance. “You believe me?”
I lift a shoulder. “Sure, why not? I’ve seen The X-Men.” I guess I should thank Ty for making me watch all the Marvel movies.
“Uh, okay.”
However, all that doesn’t explain how he got back after helping me.
“So, wait. How did you get back there?” I ask.
He grins, his dimple winking. “Well, after I made sure you were going to be okay, I walked around until I stumbled across a dance studio—a big one. I walked in, had someone take me to the first studio with floor-to-ceiling mirrors. I walked straight up to the mirror and through it. It took me right back to my bedroom.”
“They just let you walk in?”
“Well, I did ask politely.” His mouth lifts up on one side, and my heart skips a beat.
Knock it off. He’s not your boyfriend.
“You asked, and they just…let you?” That makes no sense.
He taps his head. “Well, a little coaxing never hurt, either.
“Coaxing?”
He focuses on his knee and fiddles with a button on his shirt. “Well, I’m…ah…oneofthekidswhoarespecial,” he says in a rush.
I frown, trying to reason through the jumble of words. “What? I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?”
“I’m one of the kids who are special.”
Of course, he is. I close my eyes as the bat wings of panic beat at the corners of my mind again. Maybe if I relax and take a few deep breaths, everything will make sense.
Hesitant, I reopen them. Nope, still as confused as I was before, and Jackson is staring at me with worried eyes.
“So, what abilities do you have?” I finally ask.