I smile. This kind of ribbing is the foundation of their sibling relationship. I’m glad he’s trying to keep things light rather than shutting down. I was right to bring him into this.
“So, beside her obvious superiority over you, what did you think?” I ask.
“Well, it’s a lot. On the one hand, it seems totally insane to think what I see, what we all see, in the mirror is some sort of hoax. I’m not really sure how that’d be possible.” I sit down on the bed next to him. He stays in his own space, concentrating on his thoughts. “On the other hand, it makes perfect sense. Everyone in this town always seems so miserable. And that’s coming from someone who has legitimate reasons to be depressed.”
Ben has had so much to overcome. Losing his natural family, integrating into a new family, losing family again—I am in awe of his perseverance. I spend a few minutes looking at his eyes, remembering how cold they were not too long ago, and how open and warm they seem right now. Then I realize I’m staring when I should be saying something back.
“Um, right,” I stammer. “I believe in Mary and her work. I want to continue it, but I don’t know how to do it or where to find the glasses she was working on.”
I watch as it dawns on Ben the purpose of our accessories hunt awhile back. “I wish I knew more,” he starts. “As dorky as this sounds, Mary and I usually told each other everything, but she kept this from me. From her writing, it seemed like this whole thing was just completely consuming her. I wish she would have opened up.” He looks down at the bed, flicking at the comforter’s stitching.
“Well, she didn’t tell me either. I only just found out about this. Plus a lot of other stuff.”
“Like what?” he asks, looking back at me.
“Like, who could be behind it. The mirripulation.” I stop, feeling anxious at revealing my suspect. What will Ben think? He’s been with me so far, but how will he feel about me accusing the sweetheart of Talline?
His eyes widen in anticipation. “Well? Spill it, super sleuth!”
I take a deep breath. “I think it’s Celestia Sky.”
Ben is quiet for some time. He stays very still, trying to match my words to his knowledge base. I feel like I could explode waiting for his response. Finally, he nods his head. “Yes.”
I lie back, relieved. “You think?”
“Yes!” He props himself up on one elbow, looking down at me. His face becomes more and more animated as the wheels continue to turn. “You know, she and my dad are pretty close. I see her all the time, and not just on the holopane. One time she was at our house and almost lost it after I made some jackass comment about some woman who did a guest segment on one of Celestia’s shows. Something about how Celestia better watch her back, because that girl was really cute and talented. You should have seen her face. I thought fire was going to shoot out of her eyes. You can be damned sure Celestia wants to be the most beautiful, most beloved person in all Talline, and messing up people’s Reflections would surely help keep her on top.”
“Exactly! And she seems to control the holopanes too. I hardly ever see other Persons projected up there. If she let other people on the screen, they’d see themselves as they really are, and she can’t have that. No clear mirrors, no photographs, no 3D images: people have no way to see themselves. And that’d suit her just fine. She only wants them to see her visual perfection.”
“Yeah well, Celestia’s hot and all, but I wouldn’t say she’s visual perfection. At least not to me,” Ben says, blushing slightly.
I want to hug him and almost do. I turn my body toward his. There are only a few inches between us. But for all his presumptuous flirting, Ben maintains a safe distance. He looks at me lying beside him, and carefully pushes back a strand of my hair. It tingles at the follicle.
“Violet, what is going on between us?” he asks in hushed voice.
“I… I don’t know,” I say. But part of me does know. Having him so close… I can’t say I’m against it. We’re not even touching and yet the space between us is positively electric.
“What would Thomas say if he walked in right now?”
I press my lips together in an embarrassed frown. He’s right. What would Thomas say, seeing his girl and best friend lying in a bed together? What am I even doing? In a matter of hours, the Class Fours will be here to execute their judgment, to decide the rest of my Pentral fate—being here with this boy is not only pointless, it’s selfish. I have no right to have these feelings or to manipulate his. What will happen when Violet’s back in her body and not seeking out Ben’s companionship? He’ll be crushed, and I’ll be there on the ground to witness his pain.
We both stand up, being careful not to look at each other. Ben brushes his hands over his clothes, as if he were trying to wipe away the guilt of what could have happened. He heads toward the door, but turns back before leaving.
“I’ll help you, Violet, with this mirror stuff, in any way I can.” He pauses, searching for the kindest way to let me down. “But I can’t do this, no matter how much I want to.”
I nod, and listen to him walk downstairs and drive away. I slump to the floor, and Violet slides up next to me, touching her form to my lifeless hand.
“You like him, don’t you?” she says with sympathy. I squeeze my eyes shut to keep any tears away. Yes, I like him. All this time, I couldn’t figure out why I felt so different around him, why he could stir something up inside me that no one else could. It took him saying no for me to realize I wanted the answer to be yes.
“But you know he’s right, right?” Violet adds. I rest my cheek on my bent knees, wondering if I can curl my body into the size of the hole in my heart. Of course he’s right. But that doesn’t mean it feels good.
Violet and I sit in silence, my back to the mirror, so only my thoughts are reflected back to me.
If this is love, I think, I can’t wait to lose my sense of feeling again.
* * 28 * *
One day. Twenty four hours left to expose the Reflections’ betrayal of their Pentral duties. Although I now have Ben on my side, his lack of information leaves me with nothing, no trail to follow, no light at the end of the tunnel. I am running out of time and don’t know what to do next.
The school is buzzing with excitement for tomorrow’s Festival of Light and tonight’s kick-off fireworks show. As a Shadow, the hallways overload my consciousness with unwanted thoughts as other Class Twos overlap with my outline, a constant stream of random blabbering that I cannot switch off. Now is not much different. I overhear snippets of conversations, Persons making plans for the weekend’s entertainment, happily expressing their anticipation, but I wish I could mute the entire student body. I don’t want to hear their laughter, or hang on the outside of anticipation. Everyone around me is full of cheer but dread consumes me.
I am so lost in my thoughts I do not notice Samantha barreling at me from my right, shoving me into the girls’ bathroom. Two surprised freshmen shriek as I come tumbling in, head smacking on the mirrored wall.
“Leave,” Sam scowls at them as they scurry out.
The way the mirrors are angled gives the illusion there are several of us, an infinite pattern of Samanthas and Violets, but we are alone. My Reflection, swollen as ever and now slightly bruised, repeats over and over, adding to my apprehension. Since I’ve taken residence in my Person’s body, I’ve done my best to avoid Sam, so where is this anger coming from? What does she want with me?
“You know Violet, I thought I should give you a chance,” she starts, eyes locked in a glare. “I reached out to you, tried to be your friend.” Her fists are tightly clenched. I press myself against the glass, trying to appear timid and small. I do not know a lot about this girl, her temperament or what she is capable of. It is quite possible she could hit me at any moment. Even the monsters in the mirror look scared.
“I saw you crying that day, and I knew you were alone, just like me.” Sam inches closer. We are face to face. I am frightene
d, but also cannot help but observe her painted features from up close. Her makeup, while overly excessive, is masterfully executed, particularly around her eyes. The detailed shading of purple eye shadows masks her lovely light brown eyes—it’s a shame she chooses to cloud them with layers of liner and mascara. Her cosmetic efforts are so focused in this area, I realize her Reflection must transform her natural beauty into something grotesque in need of camouflage.
Just when I think she might physically hurt me, she backs away and starts screaming at the opposite wall. “I helped you, opened up to you, and then you totally ditched me! Went back to your superstar boyfriend and stupid Alliance!” she cries.
I drop my mouth open in surprise, not only because she mentioned Violet’s circle of friends, but because she is expressing sadness, not anger.
“How do you know about the Alliance?” I ask with caution.
She spins around, eyes glossy with tears. “God, Violet! Are you completely brainless? You came into the café and asked me about Mary--do you think you were the only one who loved her?”
Saying her name rips the thread holding Sam together. She collapses to the floor, holding her head in her hands. Her fingertips, coated with chipped, hot pink polish, dig into her scalp. She sobs, giant tears streaking black mascara down her olive cheeks. This is not the reaction to a friend’s disappearance. The pain is deeper, throbbing directly from her chest. She is not suffering from the loss of a friend. She is suffering from a broken heart.
And then it all becomes clear. This is the girl Mary wrote about in her journal. Her breath of fresh air, the girl who could teach her about makeup. It was Sam. Mary’s support system, her girlfriend. And she is falling apart before my eyes.
“You reached out to me because of Mary.” I lower my voice, making it soft, so as not to aggravate her further.
She nods her head, brown hair bobbing up and down.
“But, then you lifted me.” I know I should not kick her when she’s down, but I can’t help but think back to that day, in this very bathroom, when the world was ripped from under me. When a tiny white capsule put my Shadow performance in jeopardy. What kind of a friend does that?
“So? I thought you needed it. Had you never lifted before?” she asks, wiping her messy face with her sleeve. I shake my head no. “Well, I just assumed you did. Everyone does. Lifting is like breathing in this town.” She shrugs. “Besides, you didn’t have to take it.”
This gives me pause. Sam’s right—Violet didn’t have to accept the pill. Maybe she didn’t know exactly what she was getting into, but my Person made the conscious choice to lift. Sam didn’t force the Lift! down her throat; she simply made an offer. An offer she thought would be helpful, beneficial even. It was Violet, not Samantha, who set me in a tailspin, swallowing a blurry fate.
I look down at the glossy bathroom tile. Both Sam, balled up on the floor, and Violet, lingering at my feet, look so small and helpless. Two girls made foolish choices from the depths of their heartbreak. And have I done any better? Left and right I’ve made judgments, pushing Persons aside based on my uninformed observations. Ben, Thomas, and Sam—I have no idea what it’s like to be in another Person’s head, and yet I’m constantly deeming the actions of others unworthy. How would Antares act in their shoes? Living in a world where monsters creep and heartache lingers? It’s time to stop being so self-righteous.
Moments ago I feared Sam’s wrath, and now she is cowering before me. It is not right. Deep down I know Violet would not like seeing her best friend’s girlfriend struggle. I reach down to help her up. Sam steadies herself at the sink. She turns the faucet, splashing water on her face. The makeup, already smeared from tears, muddles further, like one of Violet’s used paint palettes. She shakes her head at the mirror.
“Disgusting,” she mutters under her breath. I can only imagine how her Reflection is twisting her tear-stained face.
“Don’t say that,” I say, not wanting her to get more upset.
“Why not?” she fires back. “It’s the truth.”
“Stop. You know it’s not.”
“Why, because of Mary? Her quest to expose some sort of mirripulation or whatever?” Her openness takes me aback. All this time, Sam knew about Mary’s work. I’ve been keeping an ally at arm’s length. If she knows about Mary’s experiments, there is no reason to hold back now.
“Yes! Exactly because of Mary! She had a monster staring her down too, but she tried to do something about it!”
“Yeah, well, Mary’s gone. Okay? Gone! And every day all I’m left with is… this!” She pounds her fist against the glass, causing it to quiver. As it shakes, I watch her Reflection, mimicking Sam’s anguish. Yet something is amiss. The girl beside me is breaking down, but in the mirror I detect something else. It is quick, almost undetectable, but my lifetime of observing others leaves little unnoticed.
Her Reflection, a Pentral like me, required to remain objective and unemotional, slips up. Whereas Sam’s mouth is pulled down by the weight of heartbreak, the Reflection’s lips tilt up in a hint of a smile. Just at the edges, I see it—satisfaction. It is proud of itself, what it has done to this Person. Sam moves her head and the smile fades, but it’s too late. I know what I saw.
I want to jump through the glass, make this Pentral feel the pain it is causing. But of course, Pentrals can’t feel. No. I will have to find another way to take it down, to rip away its moment of pleasure. Show it how there is more to this Person than what she is shown. I will not let this Reflection have its victory.
“Sam, listen to me.” I position myself between the glass and the girl. “You have something else. You are loved. Hold on to that. Not everyone is so lucky. There is still hope for Mary. She never gave up her fight, and neither should you.”
Sam makes a small choking sound, a mix between a sob and a sigh of relief. Tired from crying, she wraps her arms around my shoulders and I do my best to offer her comfort. There are so many reasons to hug, but none seem more important than holding someone after she cries.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers into my ear. She is holding me so tightly I know I will not be the first one to break away. She needs to be comforted.
“For what?” I ask.
“For this, for everything. I know you didn’t know about me and Mary. She wanted to be the one to tell you about us. But we hadn’t been together all that long, and you know how she tends to keep things to herself. It took me forever to even figure out she liked me.”
“It’s okay. I mean, I wish Mary would have told me, but that doesn’t change the way I treated you. I shouldn’t have shut you out like that. This whole thing has been so hard.”
Sam pulls back, again wiping her face. “Damn it,” she manages a small laugh. “Now I’ll have to do my face all over again.” I give a tight-lipped grin, knowing that while she shouldn’t have to, Sam still has to face the mirror. “My makeup bag is in my locker. Walk with me?”
The hallways are starting to thin. The bell will be ringing soon. Sam taps her combination on her locker’s holopane. The lacquered plastic door swings open, revealing a mirrored interior. She fumbles through her belongings, spilling trinkets on the floor. I bend down to help her pick everything up, but pause when I see an orange Lifts! tin. I haven’t actually come in contact with any Lifts! since being in this body. The tin is light, with maybe only one or two sliding around inside. I run my finger over the raised brand name, thinking of how the tiny box acts as a barrier between clarity and delusion. It amazes me how something so small can have such a powerful effect on a Person. I move to put it back in Sam’s locker, but notice there is a description printed in small lettering on the back. I squint, trying to make out the words. They are barely legible.
Manufactured by FreshView Corporation. Please use responsibly.
What? Lifts! are made by FreshView, Mr. Kelly’s business? How did I not know this? I try to stay calm, for Sam’s sake, but cannot believe such a pertinent piece of inform
ation could have evaded me.
“Can you hold this?” Sam shoves a bulging bag in my hands. “Feel free to dig around. Although I know you and Mary aren’t all that into makeup.”
The zipper is open, and I notice a shiny rectangular edge that differs from the beauty tools surrounding it. I reach in, and almost drop it when I realize what I’ve found.
Glasses. Thick black plastic frames with deep purple lenses. They are unique in shape and unlike anything I’ve seen people in Talline wear, yet they wouldn’t be completely out of place. In a city that shines, sunglasses are a prerequisite, and the population is always looking for interesting eye gear. But these are different.
My heart is pounding against my ribs. I take extra caution in keeping my voice even. “Where did you get these?” I ask.
“Oh, Mary gave them to me. Told me to keep them safe. They’re pretty hideous, right?”
“Have you worn them?” I might burst.
“Are you kidding? They are so bulky. You can if you want.”
I slide the frames on my face. Looking up and down the hallway, there isn’t much difference, save the surroundings taking on a faint purple hue. But when my eyes hit the mirror in Sam’s locker, a world breaks apart. My Reflection, powerless against the technology outside the glass, splits into two, revealing her double life. On the right is Violet as I’ve always known her—freckled skin, friendly green eyes—and on the left is the monster, swollen and contorted. The couple overlaps slightly in the middle but there is no mistaking the duality of what is real and what is illusion.
She did it. Mary did it. Found a way to reveal the Reflections for the beasts they have become. And I have the proof, standing helpless in the mirror before me. How many Persons have fallen apart before these warped visions, distracted and unable to see their true inner beauty? How many lives have been wasted wishing something less frightening would return their glance? It’s all about to end.
I smile, watching two different grins spread across the faces before me. One grin is full of warmth and hope; the other is needlessly tortured and cruel. You have nothing to smile about, I think. It’s over.
The Pentrals Page 17