The MirrorMasters

by Lora Palmer

  "Woah." I knew exactly what he was going through, even without the specifics. How did people we were supposed to be able to trust do this? "That's a huge betrayal."

  He’s a stronger person than I am. When I went through it, I trashed my room. Probably would still do that even now.

  Brian shot me a look of gratitude. "The worst."

  I put a comforting hand on his shoulder, a little uncertain at first. To my relief, my effort was rewarded with Brian's warm hand covering mine.

  "If you want to talk about it, I'm here for you."

  "I will — I want to, but not yet. It's too much right now. It makes me so angry I can't think straight."

  "Oh, I hear you," I said, giving his hand a light squeeze. If only there were something I could do to help, but I felt inadequate to the task. "I know what it's like to feel so hurt and betrayed that you think you'll never get over it or be able to trust again."

  "You've been through this before?" Brian asked, his ice blue eyes widening.

  I winced. In letting him know how well I understood what he was going through, I’d revealed too much. I should leave it at that. We both should. But his hungry look, his desperation to connect with another soul who could share that pain, tugged at my heart. Our families were alike in silence, each deeply wounded by a secret. As far as I could tell, the only way to break its power and begin to heal would be to stop keeping it locked inside, to stop avoiding its existence. Maybe together, we could lead that change.

  "About five years ago, I discovered I was adopted,” I began, sparing him the details that seemed too overwhelming to speak aloud to anyone, much less to someone new. One day, I came across a copy of my adoption papers in a drawer in my dad's study. That was how I found out my parents adopted me when I was two. I'd gone in there to look for a pen for my homework but instead found out that I wasn't who I always thought I was. They’d never told me, and it changed everything. "For a while, it felt like my whole life had been a lie, that everything I'd based my life on wasn't the solid foundation I'd always thought. It had only been built on shifting sand."

  "Shifting sand. I feel like my whole life has been like that, too, after what I found out," Brian admitted. "Dad would never talk about Mom, no matter how much I begged him to. He —" Here, he paused, weighing his next words. “Well, let’s just say he dropped some major revelations today — about Mom, about why he and I have to move around so much. Why couldn't he have told me any of this before? And why now?”

  "I don’t know," I said, my voice soft.

  He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, letting my hand slip from his grip. "Why couldn't he ever tell me about her? Even now, he still won’t tell me anything else about my mom, and I want to know. I want to know what she was like. I want to know what her favorite things were, what she was good at, and what she was passionate about. I want to know..."

  Again, he hesitated and shook his head as though deeming his final thought too intimate to share, leaving it unspoken.

  A painful lump formed in my throat. I’d give anything to take away his pain. How could his dad keep so much from him? "I hate secrets!"

  "So do I." Brian's voice broke, and his body shook. I wrapped my arms around him, tears shimmering in my eyes as he clung to me like a lifeline. It made my heart ache to see him in so much pain. We stayed like that for a long while before pulling apart, though I had no idea how much time had passed. The sun hung lower than before, casting a warm, golden glow and illuminating the sky in brilliant golds and reds.

  "It hurt a lot at first, when I found out," I confessed. "I was so angry. It took time to move past that and understand their side of it, that they were trying to protect me, that they were scared and couldn’t face bringing it up. Maybe it’s like that with your dad."

  Brian seemed to consider this, silently watching the ocean for several moments. "Yeah, maybe talking about my mom is too painful," he finally said. "I worry about him, how he deals with all this alone. I don’t know what to do for him!"

  "It’s a good first step that he told you. In time, he might open up more about your mom." I smiled, grateful to see a look of relief in Brian’s eyes, a hope that things could get better with his dad.

  "I'm sorry, Leah. I didn't mean to burden you with all this."

  "It isn't a burden. I'm just glad I was here to listen. "

  "It helped. I usually don't talk about this stuff with anyone. Not like I can talk to my dad about it — we've never been close enough for that."

  "I usually don't talk about this stuff, either. But I'm glad we both did."

  "I am, too. I should head home. My dad will be worried about me."

  "And my parents are probably wondering where I am. I have to help with dinner, and there's a project for work I need to coordinate with David."

  We stood and faced each other. Brian enfolded me in another hug and whispered into my ear, his voice choked with emotion, "Thanks."

  * * *

  I held him close and whispered back, "Anytime."

  Chapter 9

  At daybreak, I awoke outside on my lounge chair, wrapped in a blanket. My first awareness was of bright light, fresh breeze, and the gentle sounds of the surf. The candle on the table beside me had long since gone out. Groaning, I sat up and stretched, a dream from last night still fresh in my mind, as if I’d been there. I could still feel harsh, unrelenting wind and sand scrape my skin raw, my heart pound so hard in terror I thought I'd pass out, and the fierce ache in my chest as I watched a little girl and her family obliterated by a sandstorm. Yet my arms held no sign of injury when I examined them.

  Just a dream. It wasn’t real.

  Then I remembered I had work that morning and quickly stood. "Oh, no! What time is it?" My heart skipped a beat as I imagined running late on my first day and Celia's disappointment in me. Why hadn't my alarm gone off, or my parents come in to wake me? Eyes wide and frantic, I raced inside to check the little alarm clock on my nightstand and almost collapsed in relief when it turned out to be only half past six o’clock. I’d have plenty of time to shower and eat breakfast.

  By the time I entered the kitchen, dressed in grey Bermuda shorts and a Kelly green blouse with my most comfortable flats, I was the last to arrive. A rich aroma of coffee greeted me, lifting my spirits and easing my nerves. Let the mischief twins do their worst. I could handle whatever challenges this new job would throw at me. The rest of my family already sat around the table, helping themselves to toast and fresh fruit, and pouring cereal and orange juice. Mom seemed fixated on her newspaper that she held up like a barrier.

  "'Morning," I said, managing a cheerful smile for them. "Hey, David, can I get a ride with you to work?"

  "Sure thing." He didn’t so much as look at me.

  "Thanks." I sank into my chair, sighing. No one spoke after that.

  A stony silence suffocated the air between David and Dad. They glared at each other, each refusing to back down from something I didn’t understand. I gave David a questioning glance, but he shook his head subtly, indicating that he didn't want to talk about it here in front of our parents. Maybe he didn't want to talk about it with me at all.

  Oh. Dad must have found out what David had done, that David had chosen to attend culinary school and turned down his last opportunity to go to university at our parents’ alma mater after Dad had pulled strings to get him one last shot at going there. Sure, Dad would take David's rejection of the offer as a slap in the face, but it was the only thing David could do. How could he possibly turn down this amazing opportunity to attend culinary school, even one located on the other side of the country?

  "I see." I sighed and dropped my gaze to my plate. Most of my good mood evaporated, and the muscles in my shoulders and back tensed. This was going to get ugly, and I couldn't wait to get out of here before that happened.

  "David, you will think about what we've discussed. I expect you to email the dean and apologize before you leave for work, and you'll accept that offer," Dad said.
>
  "Or what, Dad? Look, I appreciate what you tried to do for me, but that's the life you want, not me. I've already secured my scholarship and have everything set to go to culinary school. It's what I want to do with my life, and you don't seem to understand how incredible an opportunity this is for me. A thousand people applied, for only ten openings. A thousand! And I wasn't even waitlisted! They wanted me from the start. They're going to prepare me for my future, and it'll be a good one. I wish you could see that."

  "You're going to make the call after breakfast. End of discussion."

  David set his spoon down with a clang, glaring. "Well, at least that's one thing we agree on. We're done talking about this. And we have to get to work. Come on, Leah, let's get out of here."

  My facial muscles tightened into a pained expression. All this arguing made my head ache, and I needed to get out of there. Giving Mom a quick kiss on the cheek and Dad a doleful wave, I placed my dishes in the sink, then allowed my brother to steer me out. Dad followed us, as I’d expected, but we made it to the car quickly enough. There was nothing he could do. I leaned my head back against the headrest and sighed in relief, dispelling some of my tension.

  "He's not going to let it go, is he?" I asked as we pulled out of the driveway.

  While David focused on driving, I glanced back at the door, where our father watched us pull away. He had a stern frown, his arms crossed in anger. His pose screamed fury, and I found myself again wondering why Dad let himself get so worked up. Why couldn't he accept the fact that David had to choose his own way? But Dad was so driven, such a "Type A" personality, that I worried he would one day give himself a heart attack. I couldn't take it and had to turn away from the sight of my father standing there so tense and stiff.

  A strong breeze blew through the open car windows, whipping my hair around as David turned onto the main thoroughfare. Eventually, my thoughts centered on the work day ahead, and excitement replaced my worry. I glanced at my watch. Ten minutes ‘till eight o’clock. We passed cars, bicycles, and pedestrians along the palm tree-lined boulevard. Closer to the town center, traffic became more congested, and I started thinking I probably should have run along the beach to town. I checked my watch again. Four minutes ‘till eight o’clock. I tapped my foot and bit my lip. After what felt like forever, we finally reached the town square parking lot and eased into the nearest open space. Two minutes to go.

  "See you later, after work if not at lunchtime. Good luck today!" Unbuckling my seatbelt, I wasted no time jumping out of the car.

  "You too."

  With a quick wave, I sprinted for Celia’s house, which stood across from the square. I heaved a sigh of relief when I pushed open the door with barely a moment to spare. The Mischief twins scowled, probably disappointed that I wasn’t late.

  "Ah, Leah, right on time." Celia greeted me with a firm handshake. "Let’s get you prepped for your first day. The girls have another birthday party to go to this morning, and I want them to wear their yellow dresses. They’ll be fine at the party, so you can meet your friends for lunch, but I’ll need you to pick them up afterward..."

  * * *

  At lunchtime, the group gathered at the Wharf. It was a huge two-story place, all polished wood and granite floors in earthen tones of browns and tans, with a high vaulted ceiling and wooden beams. Overhead, a circular skylight let light filter in, and the entire wall facing the ocean held a bank of windows from floor to ceiling. I wound my way through the crowds to our usual table in the back corner of the main floor. When Kara, Jenny, and I arrived, Brian and David were already sitting together.

  "Just remember, I'll be watching," David said, a warning in his tone.

  Brian held David’s stare, his expression impassive. "Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less." His gaze slid to me as I reached the table.

  Irresistibly, I met that beautiful crystal gaze, and something inside me melted. Everything else slid away for a moment, and there was only him.

  Then David coughed, bringing me back to my senses.

  "Someone's acting protective of you because a certain someone else likes you!" Kara whispered into my ear in a singsong voice.

  Dangerous, my mind screamed. A thrill of fear mixed with desire sent ocean waves rolling through my stomach at the thought that Kara might be right. My cheeks suddenly warmed, and I hoped no one could tell if I was blushing. Everyone settled into place around the table, with me sitting between Brian and Jenny, leaving a space on Jenny’s other side for Kevin. Kara sat next to David. Wordlessly, Kara glanced between Brian and David, resting a hand on David's shoulder, and gave David a subtle shake of her head.

  "Where's Kevin?" David checked his watch, then out the window at the crowds passing by. Knowing my brother with his bottomless pit appetite, he was probably hoping to find Kevin among them so we could all finally eat.

  "On his way. He had to change first," Jenny answered, glancing toward the door. Still no sign of him. A few minutes later, Kevin arrived.

  "So, you said you had some big news?" Jenny asked me after everyone had greeted Kevin and placed their orders.

  "Right! I have so much to tell you all." Glancing at Brian, I bit my lip, but Jenny nudged me with an elbow and nodded. So Jenny was fine sharing this with him? If Brian had any reaction to my hesitation, he didn’t show it.

  "Wait! I’ll start. First, we haven't told you about what happened in Madame Helena's yesterday," Kara whispered, leaning forward for privacy. Everyone did likewise, and Kara continued, "Remember the glowing pendant that the caretaker swears he saw the other night? You have to promise me this stays between us, but we have a real mystery to solve. Madame Helena had a pendant, and a box with a prophecy and ring inside," she explained for the guys’ benefit. "A prophecy from another world that's in crisis. I think everything — from what happened to the Stanford girls, the ‘curse’ on the cemetery, to the prophecy — is all connected."

  "You're talking, what, alien artifacts?" Brian asked, his expression one of dawning understanding as pieces of a puzzle fit together in his head.

  "Yes." Eyes wide, I studied him. Maybe he did know all about it. Maybe he could tell me about the key and what it meant. I just wasn’t sure if asking him was a good idea. "Things that might help stop whatever’s causing the crisis on that world."

  "Seriously? You actually believe her. So how did she get that stuff?" Kevin asked.

  We girls exchanged looks. I glanced down at my hands, hesitant to explain, but Jenny seemed to have no compunction about revealing this information.

  "She found it out in the woods. It belonged to someone from...that world."

  "The person who killed the Stanford girls?" Brian asked.

  "No, it wasn't him," Kara said. "Madame Helena told me the original owner of the box was an inventor, and a fugitive in his world. Over a stupid law, I might add. What would that government have against technology, anyway?"

  "Umm, hello? Nuclear weapons and other machinery designed to kill people or destroy even an entire planet? Entertainment that consumes people's attention to the point that they don't actually spend real time together?" Jenny pointed out.

  "Good point," I agreed. "But aside from the destructive stuff that should never have been invented, people have to keep some balance in their lives. It's not the technology's fault if they don't. We seem to manage it just fine."

  "True, amazingly enough."

  "Anyway, enough with the philosophical," I said. "So, it was others who came here later that were responsible for what happened. Another man and his son, who was about our age."

  I glanced at Brian, searching for any reaction, any sign of recognition that would give away how much he knew about all of this. All I saw in his eyes were silent questions, probably the same questions we all had.

  We explained our theory that the others were looking for the fugitive because he had broken his homeland's law forbidding the use of technology. Either that, or they were looking for the MirrorMaster of the Prophecy, who was suppos
ed to stop the disasters plaguing that planet.

  "And Madame Helena thinks the MirrorMaster is Leah?" David asked, his voice suddenly tight, hoarse.

  "Makes sense, doesn't it?" Kara said. "Nobody knows where she came from or who her birth parents are, much less where to find them."

  "Okay, so we're going to the social services agency to see what they do know today after work, right?" I cut in, wanting to end this uncomfortable conversation.

  "Wait, wait, wait..." David held up his hand, his expression pained. "Think about what you're saying here. This whole talk of aliens is crazy, not to mention dangerous. If word gets out, I wouldn’t want my sister ending up in a psych ward — or worse, in the custody of some security agency — if the wrong people believe you. How do you think the government would react to such allegations? You have a home and a life here, which you can't just throw away on what probably turns out to be pure fantasy. Kara, don't encourage her, please!" He paused, as if struggling with himself to seem reasonable, not bitter. "...But if you need to find out where you’re from, go ahead. Maybe getting some real answers will extinguish those wild ideas."

  The implications of what David was saying hit me full force in that moment, like a tsunami, unstoppable and inescapable. "What if it's true?" I said in a small voice. "I have no clue what to do about it, but I can’t just leave all those people to die! And word already has gotten out, David. Police Chief Jacobs wants this investigated. Celia told me yesterday that they found a key at the cemetery of a metal they'd never seen before."

  "So that was the big news?" Jenny frowned before quickly recovering herself.

  "Yeah. This could get bad." I sighed and crumpled my napkin, throwing it onto the table in front of me. Everything was happening so quickly! I felt like I’d stepped onto a roller coaster and could no longer escape the ride until I had seen it through.