by Shawn Sarles
Calvin nodded and tried to take heart in Grace’s certainty. But he couldn’t help thinking about the fourth picture from that series—the one he’d kept tucked away inside his notebook. It would have frightened Grace more. And she didn’t need to see that. No one did.
The sliding glass door whooshed open in front of Elena, startling her out of her stupor. She took a few steps back and swore under her breath. She hadn’t pressed the call button. But was someone watching? Was there a time limit? She’d only been standing there for five minutes. It wasn’t loitering—
Then a nurse in blue scrubs appeared, friendly as could be, nothing at all like the hospital bouncer Elena had feared. She relaxed, watching him disappear down the hallway, and when she turned back to the ward, the door had whooshed shut again, leaving her alone with her reflection, unsure of what to do.
Did she really want to see him? Did she even know what she was going to say? Would he be angry? Would he blame her for what had happened?
In the glass door, Elena watched the get-well balloon bob lazily over her head, its toothy, bright-yellow smiley face the stuff of nightmares. Her gaze slipped to her face. She felt a tug in her gut, like she might tip forward and fall headfirst into herself, get sucked into her own eyes and lost forever.
You don’t owe him anything.
She blinked and came out of her daze, noticing how she teetered on her tiptoes. She shook her head and tried to clear her thoughts.
She did owe Henry.
Her phone chirped, and Elena fought the urge to pull it out. It’d only be from her anonymous admirer, checking in like he did every few hours, asking if she was okay, telling her that the accident wasn’t her fault, that she shouldn’t beat herself up about it or listen to the rumors swirling around at school.
She didn’t need his assurances, though. They didn’t really do her any good. She needed to see Henry. To check on him. To make sure he really was okay. She needed to clear her conscience. So, steeling herself, Elena reached forward and pressed the call button, the door sliding open again to let her into the hospital ward.
Elena approached the front desk and smiled a thanks as a nurse pointed her in the right direction. She took her time getting to Henry’s room, pausing outside the door. Nerves fluttered in her stomach—like this was a first date or something—and she didn’t know why. This was Henry. She didn’t need to impress him.
But still, she hoped she looked all right. She hadn’t known what to wear to an ex-boyfriend’s hospital bed. She hadn’t wanted to look like she was trying, but then she hadn’t wanted to look casual either.
So she’d gone with a post-practice ensemble. Matching sweatpants and jacket in their school colors. That way he’d know she was adding this to the end of her day instead of dropping everything to see him. She’d kept her hair in a ponytail, but she had thrown a dusting of makeup on her cheeks and applied a nude lip gloss. She smacked her lips, tightened her hair, and knocked.
“Oh, Elena.”
Elena was thrown by the sight of Henry’s mom at the door. Henry’s mom, who’d always had fresh cookies waiting when they had hung out at his house. Who’d always made a point of including Elena when Henry and his younger brother got caught up in video game and baseball talk. Who’d actually taken her side in a couple of the fights she and Henry had had over the years, winking slyly and saying that girls had to stick together when boys were being dumb. What must she think of Elena now?
“Did you want to come in?”
Elena remembered herself then and pasted on a smile. “I just wanted to see how he was doing. Is that okay?”
She hated that her voice quivered. That she felt the need to ask permission.
“Of course,” Henry’s mom said as she moved aside and let Elena slip in. “I was actually just running to get some tea, so you two can talk while I’m gone.”
And with that, Henry’s mom grabbed her purse and stole out of the room, leaving Elena and Henry all by themselves.
The hospital room had an unsettling quiet to it, the silence punctuated by the intermittent beeps of what Elena assumed was Henry’s heart monitor. She watched the graph peak and die down, its steady rhythm comforting, allowing her to relax and focus on the body lying in the bed.
Except for the stitches and cast, Henry could have been Sleeping Beauty. The way his dark hair fell over his forehead, Elena wanted to reach out and push it back, feel its soft brush again. It was something she hadn’t realized she’d missed in the week since their breakup.
“What are you looking at?” Henry croaked, startling Elena as his eyes fluttered open. “I’m kind of surprised you came.”
“Henry,” Elena sputtered. “How are you feeling?”
“Don’t worry. It looks worse than it is.”
And now, with him awake, Elena realized how bad it actually did look. His arm was bound in a cast that went all the way to his shoulder. And she noticed the row of stitches on his forehead now that he’d pushed his hair back, his pale complexion and the purple rings around both his eyes.
“Four hours of surgery,” Henry explained, and Elena quickly blinked away from his cast. “A shattered humerus, the funniest bone in the body. They said it was like a jigsaw puzzle putting it back together.”
He forced a laugh then, but Elena couldn’t find the humor to match it.
“I know, it’s cheesy. But for some reason I thought it was hilarious when the doctor said it. Probably the painkillers.”
An awkward silence fell over the room, something that never would have happened a week ago.
“Henry …” Elena started and then stopped, still unsure of what to say. “Are you really going to be okay?”
“I’m going to need a lot of rehab and I’ll probably have to start wearing my hair down.” Henry paused, and this time Elena was able to muster a smile. “But I’m all right. I promise. Still in one piece and expected to make a full recovery.”
At that, Elena’s shoulders unclenched and her whole body relaxed. She hadn’t realized she’d been carrying around so much anxiety.
“Are you still mad at me?” she asked, relieved as she slipped back into that comfortable pattern that she and Henry had always had.
“Funny enough, I think I’m actually over it.” Henry seemed to surprise even himself. “You know, getting hit by a car kind of puts things in perspective. And I think I’ve learned that it’s dangerous to get on your bad side.”
“I hope you know that it wasn’t me,” Elena rushed to say, her face suddenly hot with guilt. “I didn’t—”
“Elena.” Henry stopped her, his hand finding hers on the bed and squeezing it gently. “I was joking. We were together for three years. I know what you are and aren’t capable of.”
She breathed easier. At least Henry knew that she wasn’t a monster. Unlike those nasty rumors at school trying to convince everyone that she’d seen the car coming. That she’d purposely pushed Henry out into traffic. Elena hadn’t realized she had so many enemies. So many people ready to tear her down. But as long as Henry knew the truth, she could deal with the rest.
“I must have slipped off the curb or something,” Henry assured her. “I know you would never hurt me like that.”
“I’m still sorry,” Elena said. “About everything.”
And in that everything, she hoped Henry understood.
“It’s been weird not having you around,” Henry said. “My whole family misses you.”
“They do?”
“Well, mostly my little brother,” Henry clarified.
“Martin?”
He nodded. “I think he has a crush on you. Couldn’t you tell?”
Elena shrugged and then laughed, Henry joining in with her. And it felt good. Normal. Like old times. Like they were always meant to be. Like it’d been fated.
“Have you ever wondered why we got together?”
The question had popped into Elena’s head and she couldn’t help asking it. She didn’t believe the ghost story Grace, Calvin,
and Steph were trying to sell her, but a part of her did wonder. She’d been nine when she looked into that mirror, so she couldn’t say for sure if she’d seen anything at all. She’d had a crush on Henry back then, and as the memory had faded, she’d started assuming that she had imagined him there. She’d seen who she wanted to see.
“You didn’t really give me an option.” Henry chuckled and then winced as he clutched at his injured arm.
“Should I call a nurse?” Elena leaned forward, worried.
“No. It’s fine. Just a little tender when I move it.”
His arm dropped and the grimace cleared from his face.
“Do you remember how you asked me out?” Henry eased right back into Elena’s question.
“I wrote you that ridiculous note,” she recalled after a moment, suddenly embarrassed by her younger self. “With the boxes for you to check. Will you go out with me? Yes. No. Maybe. It sounds so silly now.”
“It was cute,” Henry insisted, getting a kick out of the memory. “And you’re forgetting that you only left one option for me to check. Yes. Yes. And Yes. I literally couldn’t say no.”
“I knew what I wanted. And you clearly were into it since you checked all three Yeses.”
“I guess I really liked you.”
And there it was. She knew it by the way his words echoed in her ears. The hollowness of his tone. The past tense of that sentence. She smiled to herself because it was the only way to keep from crying.
It was just, sometimes she wondered if soulmates were real. Like, what if they were meant to be and now they’d ruined their opportunity? What if he was her one and only, just like the mirror had foretold?
She wanted to ask him, but she knew she couldn’t. She’d look so stupid. Especially after she’d been the one talking to someone else. After she’d been the one to break them up.
It’s not your fault.
Don’t let him make you feel less than.
You’re better off on your own.
The whispers came from all over, glinting off stethoscopes and IV drips. The blackened TV screen. The sliver of mirror showing through the open bathroom door. The computer monitors and shiny linoleum floor and bottles of medicine.
A chill crept through her body, reaching into her chest and squeezing her heart in an icy vise as the whispers grew louder, as they poured into her ears and overwhelmed her. She wanted to scream. They were too much to listen to. Too strong to ignore.
He was never good enough for you.
He’s not the one.
Don’t waste your time on him.
She couldn’t fight it. Couldn’t quiet the voices. A shadow appeared at the edge of her vision, taking its time coming into focus, preparing to step into the light, to meet her head-on. But Elena wasn’t ready. She didn’t want to see. She couldn’t—
“Look,” Henry began, reading into Elena’s sudden quiet. “We had a good run. Three years. It’s more than anyone could have expected. Maybe even more than we deserved. It’s probably better that we broke up instead of drawing it out.”
Elena felt a strange lightness settle in her. He really was over her. He’d moved on, as simple as that.
“But I am worried about you.”
She stiffened as Henry went on.
“You always go after what you want, and I really admire that about you. But this girl you’ve become—this girl who goes behind people’s backs, who flirts with strange boys she’s never even met, who starts fights in the hallways at school—that’s not someone I recognize. It’s not you. You’re better than that.”
There’s nothing wrong with going after what you want.
That is who you are.
The voices flooded back in, filling her mind, stoking her anger, tempering her words.
It’s like he doesn’t know you at all.
“Maybe you’re wrong,” Elena snapped. “Maybe I am that girl. Maybe I need to be strong to get what I want. To get what I deserve. To make sure no one takes it from me.”
Henry looked taken aback, but he quickly recovered, biting out his own reply.
“If you have to be mean and use tricks to get it, then did you really deserve it in the first place?”
Anger sparked in Elena’s stomach and surged through her whole body, the creeping cold from before disappeared in a flash of flame. Her hands began shaking.
“Next time, try looking both ways before you cross the street. Or don’t.”
And with that, she turned and stormed out, all thoughts of soulmates burned to ash in her mind.
When the last-bus bell rang, echoing down the freshman hall, Steph was the only one there to hear it. But for once, she wasn’t in a hurry. She took her time gathering the books she needed for homework, all the while trying not to think about the demon that may or may not be real. That may or may not have cursed her.
Instead, she tried to focus on that night’s game. If one thing could help her forget, it was volleyball. And tonight they were playing their district rivals, which meant they had to win. She couldn’t afford any distractions.
What about your soulmate?
The thought flitted to Steph’s ear, like a butterfly alighting on a flower, its wings batting, tickling, flirtatious.
You can’t forget about her.
And before Steph knew it, she found herself leaning up against her locker, sinking into a daydream.
Thoughts of the new girl filled her head. Steph still didn’t know her name. She hadn’t worked up the courage to approach her on her own. But she’d seen her in the halls, spied on her in the cafeteria. She’d talk to her eventually. She just had to find the right time. The perfect moment.
“Hey there.”
Steph snapped upright, the voice surprising her, and she banged the back of her head against the locker.
“Oh my gosh, are you all right?”
Someone rushed forward and laid a hand on Steph’s shoulder, which only made Steph swoon harder as she realized it was the new girl standing in front of her, as if Steph had somehow conjured her from her thoughts.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I’m fine,” Steph assured her, feeling guilty for making her worry.
“Good,” the girl replied, leaving Steph speechless. She didn’t want the girl to go, but she didn’t know how to keep her there either.
“I’m Steph.”
The introduction popped out of her mouth, and she hoped she didn’t sound silly or too forward.
“It’s nice to meet you,” the girl said, reaching a hand out for a shake. “I’m Mary.”
Mary.
It echoed in Steph’s head. Just like the thing in the mirror.
Only this was a girl. Steph’s dream girl. Maybe even her soulmate. There wasn’t anything demonic about her. No devil horns. No blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. She didn’t hiss when she spoke. There was no way this girl was evil. And now, finally, Steph had a name to put to that face. Those features she couldn’t help but be drawn to.
Now that she had the girl up close, Steph could see the finer details. The light freckles dusting the bridge of her nose. The golden tones glittering in her short brown hair. The ink stains left on the tips of her index and middle fingers. The ease she seemed to have in her own skin. The confidence.
“I know who you are,” Mary said.
And Steph jolted out of her daze, suddenly wondering if this girl might have had visions of her, too. Had she seen the demon?
“You’re our star volleyball player.” Mary said it like it was common knowledge. “Some girls in my bio class were talking about how good you are.”
Steph blushed from her neck all the way up to her forehead. That people would talk about her. That a girl like Mary would take notice and remember.
“You all have a game tonight, right?”
“Yeah,” Steph managed to jump back in. And then, in what might have been the bravest moment of her life, she asked the unthinkable. “Actually, you should come. See me in
action. See if I live up to the hype.”
Even as Steph held her breath, her heart pounding in her chest, wondering what spirit had taken over her body to make her say something so bold, she realized that it was the right move. Because if there was one place where she excelled, where she lost her awkward tallness and anxiety, it was on the volleyball court. If she wanted to impress this girl, the only place she’d be able to do it was there.
“Sure. I can check it out.”
And Steph had to blink to make sure she’d heard right.
“It’s at six?”
Mary stopped walking, bending over to fiddle with a bike lock. And Steph realized that they’d made it all the way out to the front of the school. How had she not noticed that?
“Yeah. The game starts at six.” Steph’s own words echoed in her ears.
“Great. I’ll see you tonight.” Mary mounted her bike and snapped a helmet over her head. “Good luck. I’ll be cheering for you.”
And with that farewell, Mary coasted away, disappearing without a backward glance. Which was okay with Steph, because that meant she could stare at her without being seen.
The stands were packed that night, even for the freshman game, which went on first. The crowd buzzed with a frantic kind of energy, pushing in, filling up the space, spilling over so that Grace could barely handle it. Her toes tapped uncontrollably beneath her, her locket out and squeezed between her lips as she watched the court.
Her eyes flicked to either side, to spectators chomping on nachos and popcorn and hot dogs, tossing chips and kernels into their mouths without a care in the world. But what if one of them were only a bite away from choking to death?
Grace blinked and her gaze slipped to the bleachers, the wood worn and creaking. Could this many jostling fans cause a support to collapse? To send them all tumbling down into a deadly pit of metal rods, splinters, and sawdust?
She closed her eyes, but it didn’t stop the worry from burning through her, the anxiety from driving her mad.