Grace in the Mirror

by Kristy Tate

  If she went home, she would be ditching her new friends two nights in a row. If she made it a habit, it probably wouldn’t be too long before she found herself without any friends. Not knowing what else to do, she folded one of the napkins into a tiny square and tucked it low into her bra. She smoothed down her shirt. Beneath the macramé, the outline of the napkin was barely visible.

  Grace gave her reflection another glance and whispered, “You’re not crazy. You are completely sane.” Those little men and Charmant had just mistaken her for someone else. But something tugged in the back of her mind. Something important. She needed the internet.

  She opened the door and bounced into Brock.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hi.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I don’t know. You look…determined.”

  Grace laughed, but it sounded wrong. “Do you speak French?”

  “No. I’m in your Spanish class, remember?” He seemed insulted that she hadn’t noticed him.

  “Yeah. Do you have a phone on you?”

  He gave her a puzzled look, but dug his smartphone out of his pocket.

  “Can you help me look something up?”

  “What?”

  “Hey, babe.” Alicia came from behind and draped her arm around Brock’s shoulder. “Whatcha doing?”

  Something in Grace’s expression must have told Brock that she didn’t want Alicia looking over her shoulder, because he typed in the password and handed her his phone. “Bring it back.”

  Grace slipped down the hall to where the noise of the party was muted. She heard the buzz of multiple conversations, the strong steady beat of the band singing about dancers on the beach, and laughter, but it all faded away after she typed Charmant into Google Translate and came up with one word.

  Charming, as in Prince Charming.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Grace pushed through the crowd, found Gabby, pulled her into the kitchen, and waved at Amy to follow. They formed a tight circle in a corner between the giant stainless-steel refrigerator and the door to the walk-in pantry. She showed them the Google Translate screen.

  “Prince Charming?” Gabby muttered.

  “Talk about an ego,” Amy said.

  “He and his little friends are screwing with you,” Gabby said.

  “But why?”

  Gabby and Amy both shook their heads.

  “He’s cute,” Gabby said, “but we have to stay away from him.”

  “Should we tell the others?” Grace asked.

  Amy looked over her shoulder, indecision etched in the creases on her forehead.

  “Tell us what?” Chase asked.

  For once, Gabby didn’t give him her shoulder. Instead, she showed him the phone.

  “He’s a fruit cake,” Chase said, the tone of his voice more serious than his words.

  “Nuttier than peanut butter,” Amy agreed.

  “What are we going to do?” Gabby asked.

  “We don’t have to do anything, right?” Grace asked. “We can just stay away from him.”

  “Let’s go,” Chase said, tucking his arm through Gabby’s.

  She shook him off. “I’m still mad at you.”

  “Let’s go to my house and watch a movie,” Oliver said.

  “Okay,” Grace said, “but I have to return Brock’s phone. Don’t leave without me.”

  While the others headed outside to their cars, Grace followed the sound of Brock’s laughter. She found him in a semicircle of kids playing a card game she didn’t recognize. Alicia had her head in his lap and her cards poised above her face. Grace wanted to point out that Brock could see her cards, but she guessed that Alicia must not care. She probably knew that as long as she had Brock, she had already won.

  Grace leaned over and dropped the phone into the breast pocket of Brock’s T-shirt. “Thanks,” she said.

  He looked up. “Find what you’re looking for?”

  “Sort of.” She shot another glance at Prince Charming, AKA Charmant, lounging on the other side of the room, watching her with lazy eyes, before she headed out the door.

  #

  That night after the movies at Amy’s, Grace told her mom everything. She started with the day she first met the dwarfs on the sidewalk, moved on to the kidnapping and swordfight, mentioned the mermaid, and ended with the discovery of Prince Charming. While her mom stared at her with a stunned expression, Grace said, “You have to let me go back to Salmon Dale to live with Kelly.”

  The room Jeanie shared with Toby fell quiet. In the soft summer night, Grace heard the gentle whoosh of Toby’s breath as he slept beside them in the queen-size bed. Jeanie had her back propped against the headboard while Grace sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed.

  Jeanie wagged her head. “I don’t know what to say. You’ve never lied to me before…not that I know of.”

  “I’m not lying now!” Grace whisper-yelled.

  Jeanie swallowed hard and audibly. “You know how crazy this sounds, right?”

  “For some reason, these guys have me mistaken for—”

  “Snow White,” Jeanie finished her sentence. “You do look like her, you know.”

  “Mom, she’s a Disney cartoon character.” Grace pulled the mermaid stone out from under her blouse. In the soft evening light, it cast a warm glow. “See this? The mermaid gave it to me.”

  Jeanie’s eyebrow hitched and Grace could tell that her mom didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  Grace didn’t want to make things worse, but she had to tell her. “I tried to follow her, but…someone stopped me.”

  Jeanie audibly swallowed again. “If you really want to go home so badly…” Her voice trailed away.

  “Don’t you? Why don’t we all go?”

  “Your grandparents…”

  “Let them hire someone to clean up their messes!”

  “You know they won’t.”

  “Is this what Dad wants?”

  “Your dad isn’t here.”

  “Why are we really here?” Grace asked.

  Jeanie exhaled and Grace watched a dozen conflicting emotions flicker over her mom’s face.

  “It’ll be cheaper for you if you don’t have to cover my tuition.” Grace appealed to her mom’s wallet.

  Jeanie leaned forward and placed her hand on Grace’s knee. “I don’t mind paying your tuition.” She shook Grace’s leg. “You’re worth it. You’re going to score a fat scholarship, go to the best college, and have the whole world at your feet.”

  Which was just another way of saying that the world hadn’t fallen at Jeanie’s feet, maybe because she’d fallen for Grace’s dad, so Jeanie was going to make sure the world tumbled for Grace.

  “They give scholarships to kids from Salmon Dale.”

  Tears filled Jeanie’s eyes. “You don’t understand—I’m not ready for you to grow up.” She sucked in a deep breath. “But that’s selfish, isn’t it? If you really think you’d be happier in Salmon Dale, maybe you should go. But sweetie, think about it. You’d have to go back to work at the dairy. I couldn’t just let you sponge off Janet—you’d have to earn your keep. And you’d need a car to get around. Plus the flight.” Jeanie blew out a breath.

  “I can earn the money,” Grace said. “And maybe Lucy will hire me!”

  Jeanie slowly nodded and rubbed a tired hand over her eyes. “Let me sleep on it. We’ll talk about it some more in the morning, okay?”

  Leaning forward, Grace hugged her mom hard and kissed her on the cheek, and for just a moment, Grace felt like she was the parent and her mom was the child in need of comfort. Settling down, she put her head in Jeanie’s lap. “Tell me the Snow White story,” she said, wanting to be young again. Jeanie had told Grace the story a hundred times. Some things were constant: Snow White’s beauty, the mirror that always told the truth, the friendly dwarfs, but with each retelling, Jeanie always tweaked it.

  Jeanie idly stroked Grace’s hair. “In a bleak midwin
ter when snowflakes danced from the sky, a queen sat sewing at her window, dreaming of the child she carried. Careless, she pricked her finger with her needle. A drop of crimson blood fell into the snow on the windowsill. The red on white shadowed by the black sky looked so beautiful that the queen wished for a daughter just as beautiful.

  “The queen died. The king, who had never known his love’s wish, gazed at the new baby, marveled at her pale skin, red lips, and ebony hair, and declared that she would be known as Snow White. In time, the lonely king remarried a beautiful but vain and cruel woman. Before her marriage, she possessed little of material means, but she had one prized possession—a mirror.

  “All mirrors are remarkable things for they cannot lie, they can only reflect what they see. If you are smiling, the mirror smiles back. If you are sad, the mirror mourns as well. But this mirror was magic, because it not only told what it saw at the moment, but also reflected what had come before and what would come to pass.

  Every morning the queen stood before it, looked at herself, and said:

  “Mirror, mirror, on the wall,

  Who is the fairest of all?”

  And the mirror answered:

  “You, my queen, are fairest of all.”

  And this pleased the queen.

  Snow White grew in beauty and grace, but her beauty, unlike the queen’s, was more than skin deep. She glowed with the beauty of goodness.

  One day when the queen asked her mirror:

  “Mirror, mirror, on the wall,

  Who is fairest of all?”

  It answered:

  “You, my queen, are fair; ‘tis true.

  But Snow White will always be fairer than you.”

  “This frightened the queen because she knew her beauty wielded power. She turned green with envy. From that hour on, whenever she looked at Snow White, her hatred grew until it squeezed out all reason.

  “One day, she summoned a huntsman and said to him, "Take Snow White into the woods. Kill her, and as proof of her death, bring her lungs and her liver back to me."

  “The huntsman tried to obey. Deep in the woods, he unsheathed his hunting knife to kill the girl.

  "Oh, dear huntsman,” Snow White cried, “spare me!”

  “Because of her beauty, the huntsman took pity on her, and said, "Run away, child."

  “On the way back to the castle, a boar crossed the huntsman’s path. He killed it, cut out its lungs and liver, and took them back to the queen as proof of Snow White's death. The cook boiled them with salt, and the wicked woman ate them, supposing she had eaten Snow White's organs, thinking that now she would possess Snow White’s inner beauty.

  “All alone in the great forest, Snow White ran over sharp stones, through thorns, and plunged deeper and deeper into the woods. As day turned to night, she stumbled upon a little house.

  “Inside, everything was diminutive and filthy. She cleaned the house from the attic to the stone floor. Afterward, she lay down on a bed, entrusted herself to God, and fell asleep.

  “After dark, the men of the house returned home. They were the seven dwarfs who picked and dug for ore in the mountains. They lit their seven candles immediately and noticed Snow White’s handiwork.

  “They found her lying asleep on a bed. They marveled at her beauty, but did not wake her. The seventh dwarf had to sleep with his companions, one hour with each one, and until the night had passed.”

  Toby roused, rubbed his eyes, and glared at Grace. “I feel sorry for that dwarf!”

  “Sorry, Tobs,” Jeanie said, running her hand over the top of his buzzed head. “We didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “S’okay,” he mumbled and burrowed back into his pillows. Pulling the quilt around his shoulders, he said, “But now you have to skip to the good part.”

  “What’s the good part?” Grace asked.

  “You know, where the prince slays the dragon.”

  “That’s the Disney version,” Grace told him, “not the real story.”

  Jeanie laughed. “You don’t want to know the real story. Legend has it a mean old man poisoned apples because he was tired of the village children stealing his fruit.”

  “But what happened to the dragon?” Toby asked.

  “No dragon. The villagers put a pair of iron shoes into burning coals, used tongs to place them before the queen and forced her to step into the red-hot shoes. She danced until she fell down dead.”

  “That’s dumb,” Toby said.

  “Not as dumb as what probably really happened,” Jeanie said.

  “What’s that?” Toby asked.

  “In the true version—the evil stepmother gets away with murdering the princess.” Jeanie tucked Toby’s blanket even tighter. “And that is why, my dearies, you must make sure I live a long and healthy life so that you’ll never have a stepmother.” She said it like she was joking, but something in her tone made Grace wonder.

  #

  On Monday, Brock went to school determined to end things with Alicia. He avoided her during the first half of the day, and caught up with her at lunch. She was sitting at the table with Devon, an uneaten apple in front of her. Her canary yellow sweater matched her hair. He stared at her, momentarily blinded and flooded with memories.

  She was the first person he’d met when he moved to Santa Magdalena two years ago. She’d been standing under a tree, holding a can of tuna fish high in the air, a pleading look on her face. Crows flitted around her. A squirrel in the neighboring tree chattered at her, but a tabby with a fat tail a few branches above her refused to acknowledge her in any way.

  “My grandmother’s cat,” she’d said. “If I lose Dorie, I might as well become a beauty-school dropout now.”

  She was so beautiful, Brock didn’t think she needed beauty school, but he didn’t say so then.

  “She pays my St. Mags tuition,” she’d said.

  “I go to St. Mags,” he’d said. “Or at least I will in a few days.” He’d made eye contact with the cat, something he hadn’t been able to do with Alicia right away. The cat twitched her whiskers and flicked her tail, completely bored with him. Brock accepted the challenge, grabbed the lowest branch, and swung into the tree.

  “Wait!” Alicia had called. “Take me with you!”

  “No, you have to stay down there in case Dorie decides to make a jump for it.”

  Which is exactly what Dorie had done.

  He’d thought Alicia would be upset, but she’d clapped her hands when the cat darted through a hedge and disappeared behind a wrought-iron fence.

  Brock had hurtled down and landed beside her. “Aren’t you going to go after her?”

  “Nah” she’d said.

  “Why not?”

  “Well, for one thing, that’s my grandmother’s house.” She’d tilted her shoulder at the hacienda through the hedge. “And for another, if I did that then I couldn’t do this.” She’d put her arms around his neck and kissed him.

  She’d kissed him even before he knew her name. At the time, it had blown his mind, but now he saw it as symbolic of all the things that were wrong about Alicia.

  Steeling his spine, he touched her shoulder.

  “Can I talk to you outside?”

  “Why?” she asked, but he guessed from her expression that she knew. “I have to stay in here.” She motioned at the microphones set up on the opposite side of the cafeteria line. “It’s open mic day. Devon’s going to play for Chad.”

  Devon nodded to the guitar propped up beside her.

  “You can say whatever you need to say here. Or not.” Alicia lifted her chin.

  Brock sat at the table and glanced around for Grace. She was sitting with Dillinger, Amy and Oliver. They were huddled together, as if making plans. Plans that wouldn’t include him.

  “When are you up?” he asked Devon.

  “We’re after the Flat Tones,” Devon said.

  Brock watched a kid he recognized from his English class approach the mic. He tapped it a few times, sending rhythmic thumps ov
er the airwaves. Clearing his throat, he began a poem he’d obviously written himself.

  “Is this about that night at the beach?” Alicia whispered. “Because that was nothing.” She waved her hand in front of her face as if shooing invisible flies.

  “You mean when I drove Grace home?” he whispered back.

  The girl at the next table gave them a dirty look. Another girl put her finger to her lips.

  An expression Brock couldn’t read flickered in Alicia’s eyes. She waved her hand again. “I’m over that.”

  His throat tightened, making it hard to swallow.

  “You should get over it, too,” Alicia said. “I know Chase feels like I do.”

  “Chase Dillinger?”

  “Oh come on.” Alicia scooted around so that she faced him. “It was a hookup. Didn’t mean anything.” Her smile didn’t soften her words or touch her eyes.

  Brock sent the guy at the microphone an apologetic glance before he turned back to Alicia. “You hooked up with Dillinger?”

  “I told you it was nothing. It wasn’t even a full hookup. More of a half-hookup,” Alicia said, just as the guy at the mic ended his poem.

  Applause thundered through the cafeteria. It seemed appropriate.

  Brock stood.

  “Where are you going?” Alicia asked, her voice shrill.

  “Somewhere else,” he answered, using his regular voice.

  “You’re overreacting.” Alicia motioned for him to sit.

  Devon and Chad took the stage. People politely clapped. Devon strung the guitar around her neck and plucked a few notes. Chad started singing about a magic dragon.

  “I’m not reacting at all,” he whispered, feeling shell-shocked. “My breaking up with you has nothing to do with whatever you and Dillinger might have done. Although it does seem like a pretty good reason.”

  Alicia bounced to her feet. “You’re breaking up with me?”

  “Shh!” people around them hissed, sounding like a chorus of snakes.

  “Down in front!” someone called out.

  Alicia pointed her finger in Brock’s face. “If you walk away from me, you’ll be sorry.”

  Brock walked away and didn’t feel sorry at all.