The Looking Glass Read online

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” George said. “But we really should—”

  The hotel manager was, at this point, beyond self-control. “I can’t bring her back from the dead! Getting revenge on me for something that wasn’t my fault doesn’t even serve a purpose. It’s the world we live in, I tell you! People are … are killing justice in the name of gain.”

  The manager pulled out a tissue and blew his nose; it made a sound like a trumpet, shattering the silence. He glanced at the people from the breakfast room who had gathered in the doorway. At the sight of them watching, the manager threw the tissue down onto the desk.

  “I’m sorry,” George said, “about the lawsuit.”

  The manager looked up. “Oh, I imagine it’s all roses and daisies for you. You benefit from the whole situation. Another ghost running around for you to catch—that’s how you see it.” He laughed.

  “Look,” George said, with an amount of patience that Alice thought was nothing less than heroic. “I know we’ve had our disagreements, but—”

  “Just go,” the manager said. “Go! Get out of here. Do what you want. I’m already ruined!” He laughed. “Completely ruined!”

  He was laughing quite loudly now and George and Tony were staring at him with their mouths hanging open. A second later, Tony cleared his throat, muttered a quick goodbye, and dragged his father out of the room.

  The manager threw back his head, covered his eyes, and was silent.

  Alice only hesitated for a moment before running up the stairs after George and Tony. Part of her wanted to run and hide in the remotest corner of the house she could find. But she could avoid George’s traps better if she knew where he put them. She had to follow.

  As she reached the top of the staircase, she remembered why she had run down to the main floor in the first place. Through the open bedroom door in front of her, she could see a wall of mist that had devoured most of the room. It was worse up here than it was below; the mist was moving faster. She thought of the attic room and a twinge of panic twisted her stomach. Glancing to her left, she saw the back of George’s head as he passed the hallway mirror; to her right was the deer tapestry that hid the door to the attic.

  Alice wavered for a moment, then dashed down the hall to the right. In a desperate panic, she tore away the deer tapestry, and started kicking the door—toes pulled back, low roundhouse kicks that made the wood creak and moan. But the door held steady and each impact sent an even more painful shock up Alice’s leg. Finally, she hobbled back and fell to the floor, clutching her red, scratched foot. Some of her frantic energy had worn off and she stared at the tiny keyhole, panting.

  So much for brute force. She was going to have to do this the hard way after all. Limping, she hurried back toward George and Tony’s room. She couldn’t afford to waste any more time on the attic right now—not when George could be lacing the halls with death traps. Between his devices and the mist, Alice’s freedom was shrinking with every moment. Hurrying down the hall, gritting her teeth against the pain in her leg, she imagined that the walls were closing in on her—the hallway getting narrower, disappearing entirely—and claustrophobia made her breathing go shallow. When she pushed the door to George and Tony’s room open and saw that there was only a five-foot-square corner of the room remaining, she almost turned around. But there, in the remaining six-inch sliver of mirror, was George unpacking one of his plastic tubs (Tony stood by, arms crossed). Holding her breath, Alice forced herself inside, pressing her back against the wall. She watched George closely, but if he was saying anything, she couldn’t hear a word. The mist, cottony and yet somehow severe, hung motionless before her, like a curtain.

  The girl had followed her.

  “You think he can help you,” she said, walking into the room in the mirror, her hands lost in the black folds of her dress. “You think that he can save your life.”

  Alice’s stomach clenched. She looked away from Tony’s face and down at the floor. Her feet, bare against the carpet, seemed awkward and large. Her right foot looked red.

  “He’ll help,” she muttered.

  “Oh yes—he’ll help all right.” The girl grinned.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  The girl just shook her head and said, “Watch.” She stepped right in front of the mirror, blocking Alice’s view completely. Alice tried to stand on her tiptoes to see Tony more clearly, but the girl leaned forward and blew on the glass, making a wide stripe of fog right down the middle.

  “What are you doing?” demanded Alice.

  “Helping. You’ll see.”

  The girl’s blurred figure disappeared, leaving Alice fuming. Helping? The girl was helping her about as much as the mist was. Alice leaned against the wall, waiting for the fog on the mirror to fade. It didn’t budge. For several moments she stood—surely it would dissolve—but it didn’t. It stuck to the glass like paint, like something solid. Alice ran forward and wiped the glass with her sleeve, but that did no good at all. Hurrying back to the safety of the wall a second later, she gave up and made out the shapes behind as best she could. Everything blurred together in a soupy mess. A darkish lump that she knew was George bent over and then straightened up. He took a few steps to his left and paused for a moment (maybe he was putting something on the bookshelf? She couldn’t tell), then crossed to the other side of the room. The minute he stepped across the invisible border that was the edge of the mist, his voice came clearly through the mirror.

  “—that the other one goes over here.” He leaned over the small coffee table in front of the armchair and worked on positioning boxes that were about the size and shape of speakers.

  George turned around and held still for a minute; Alice guessed he must be listening to something. Then he said, “Not a radio frequency at all. It’s more of a wireless connection. Don’t you see? Radio waves can interfere with … ”

  You’ll see.

  The girl’s voice did not come from anywhere in particular; it came from everywhere—from the air, from the mirror, from the wall itself. Alice looked for any sign of the girl in the mirror, but she was nowhere to be found. She looked behind her, around her, and everything seemed normal, and yet her skin prickled with goose bumps and her hands were freezing cold.

  She looked back at the mirror and her heart started racing. Something was different.

  What had been nothing more than fog had now transformed into a shimmering silver pool. As Alice leaned forward to look into it, breathless and a little afraid, the ripples flattened and the silver grew brighter and brighter. Shapes appeared, becoming faces, and Alice leaned forward farther still. It was like a television within a mirror. She saw the faces more clearly now. They were two boys—a younger but still recognizable Tony and someone else standing next to him—outside, next to an old brick wall. When the other boy spoke, Alice found that she could hear him just as if he were standing beside her.

  “We’re going tonight. You bringing it?”

  Tony hesitated, pushing his hair out of his eyes, scratching his forehead.

  “Dude, you’ve been bragging about it forever. You promised you’d let us try it out,” said his friend, who was dressed in a polo shirt and very nice jeans. They both wore backpacks; it looked as though they had just gotten out of school.

  “You know my dad’s always asking me about it.”

  The other boy rolled his eyes. “So what? We’ve gone before. Nothing’s ever happened. Totally safe—we’re good drivers.”

  “We don’t even have licenses.”

  “Don’t need them. We know what we’re doing. Now are you gonna let us try it out or aren’t you? ’Cause if you aren’t … ” He shrugged and said casually, “I’m not sure you should come at all. You’ve got to follow through—you can’t just brag about your fancy car and not give it a go. Maybe you don’t even have one. How would I know?”

  Tony frowned. “My mom will find out.”

  “Just tell her what you always do. Study group at my place.”<
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  Tony’s frown deepened; he looked away. “She called your mom last time.”

  “Seriously?” his friend asked, and Tony shrugged. “No way—was she pissed?”

  “She said I needed to be more responsible—you know. Said she was disappointed.”

  “Did she punish you?”

  “She thinks disappointment is a punishment.”

  He laughed. “Your mom’s so my favorite, man.”

  “She’s worried now, though.”

  The other boy shook his head and readjusted his backpack. “So she’s worried. Whatever. It’s not like we’re doing drugs or anything.”

  “We kinda … well.”

  “Well, we’re not. We just wanna feel something, you know?”

  “Yeah.”

  They stood in silence for a moment. Tony fingered his backpack straps. “It is my car.”

  “Just what I’ve been telling you.”

  “I promised.”

  The boy was tapping his foot; his arms were crossed. “Yeah, you did.”

  Tony sighed, looked blankly at the kids walking past him, and said, “Don’t leave without me.”

  As suddenly as it had appeared, the picture was gone. The glass rippled and the circle of silver churned. Holding her breath, Alice reached out to touch it, then changed her mind. This was just some trick that the girl—the house—was playing.

  But her heart would not stop pounding. She clenched and unclenched her hands, feeling how sweaty her palms were, though her fingers were cold as ice.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  Alice shook herself. Tony had walked over to where his dad was standing now; it seemed that almost no time had passed during her unexpected detour into what had looked like (but, she reminded herself, couldn’t possibly have been) Tony’s memories.

  The blurry shape of Tony leaned over the two boxes. “I’m saying I don’t see why these have to be set up so close if the connection is wireless. Don’t you want to cover the most area possible? If it’s like a net, you want to spread it wide, right? You see?”

  Do you see yet?

  The girl again. Alice was more prepared this time, but still her heart raced as she watched the ripples flatten and Tony’s face appear in the mirror within the mirror.

  A yellow sports car tore down the freeway, dodging cars left and right. Alice saw it, then found herself inside of it, looking at the two front seats like a fly on the windshield. A freckled kid with spiky hair was tapping his foot on the dashboard to loud music; he looked as though he was having the time of his life.

  “Sweet! This is awesome! Man, I can’t believe your dad got you a car!” He twisted around to look in the rearview mirror. “They’re never gonna catch up. Not in a million years.”

  “Awesome,” Tony said. His fingers were tight around the steering wheel, but he was smiling. He jerked the wheel to the side and screeched around another car. “Whoa.” He was breathing heavily; his smile widened. “Whoa!”

  “Nice one,” said the other boy. He rubbed the leather armrests and nodded to himself. “Sweet,” he said again. “I’m so jealous, man. You have no idea.”

  “My dad’s cool,” said Tony. The freeway was clear ahead of him and he accelerated. The speedometer crept up to 105 mph. He looked almost relaxed now. His fingers loosened on the wheel.

  “Uh, duh. Yeah. So he just left it for you after the divorce?”

  “Pretty much. Bought it when I was three—we’ve been fixing it up ever since. Just the two of us, you know? We did the paint job the month before he left.”

  His smile faded and the car decelerated.

  “Hey man, don’t slow down,” said the other boy, craning his neck to see behind them. “They’re catching up. Oh crap—they’re totally on our tail!”

  Tony glanced in the mirror. “I don’t see them.”

  “Speed up—come on! They’re right behind us!”

  “I don’t see anyone!”

  “Are you freaking blind?”

  For one brief moment, Tony turned around, squinting into the darkness behind them.

  “Oh yeah—okay, I see their headlights. What’re you talking about? They’re way behind—”

  But the other boy’s scream drowned out the end of his sentence. It was loud and high and piercing and sent chills down Alice’s spine.

  Tony whipped around. “What the—”

  Alice saw his eyes widen as the car headed across the carpool lane and straight into oncoming traffic. The other boy’s scream was pure panic. Tony grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and turned it sharply to the right; the car veered, turned, turned again, spun … they were spinning … they had crossed back over to the other side of the freeway. They were going so fast now that the world was a constant blur and the boys’ faces were two blotches of panic and the car was a yellow bullet heading into a ditch on the side of the road.

  The picture rippled and then it was gone.

  George picked up one of the boxes; Alice could see only a beige blur that had to be the top of his balding head.

  “You have a point,” he said. “Maybe putting one out in the hall would be a good idea.”

  Once again, she hadn’t missed a second. Could the girl really stop time? And what could the girl possibly hope to gain by showing her this?

  The scream rang in her ears. … She shivered.

  The mist was completely still and Alice, fairly sure it wouldn’t move anytime soon, came closer to the half-gone mirror. She sidled up next to it the way people approach the edge of a cliff—inch by inch, eyes wide and unblinking. Heart pounding. She thought she might throw up. Reaching out, she ran her finger down the smooth glass. It was perfectly solid. And yet when it rippled, it seemed fluid as water, as though she might be able to stick a hand right through it. Straight through. Could she get to the other side? She stood poised beside the glass, hoping the girl would give her just one more little video trip.

  The back of her neck was sweaty and she wiped it with her hand. She could smell herself; a wave of nausea made her clutch her stomach. She almost retreated back to the safety of the corner, but pride kept her standing there. What if the girl was still watching her? Alice refused to appear afraid, to show weakness.

  Tony reached for the other box. “What if we put one up by the pool? What do you think?”

  What do you think of him now, Alice?

  The minute the girl’s voice echoed in the room, Alice plunged her hand into the surface of the mirror. Her hand disappeared inside it and for a second her fingers felt cold, but the cold was strange—too intense—and only a second later the freezing turned to burning. It was unbearable; her skin felt as if it had gone up in flames. Cursing, she pulled her hand out and stumbled away, holding it to her. For a moment she didn’t dare to look at it. She expected to see the charred, blackened remains of fingers hanging limply from her palm. But when she did finally dare a quick glance, she saw that her hand looked perfectly normal. The pain was all in her head, not that that made her feel it any less. Blinking back tears, she watched the mirror.

  When the ripples flattened this time, Tony was sitting in a hospital bed, his arm in a sling, his face dotted with cuts and bruises. A woman with dark, curly hair (his mother, Alice assumed) sat on a chair next to him, listening to a white-jacketed doctor talk about fractures. When the doctor got up to leave, the woman stood and began to pace the room, her arms folded, lips pursed.

  Tony was stone-faced and thoroughly unapologetic.

  “They’re not going to arrest you,” she said at last. “They could have.”

  Tony nodded in response, his eyes on the floor.

  His mother, a tall woman with very short brown hair, stopped pacing. She pressed her palms into the hospital bed, exhaled heavily.

  “I’ve always tried to be honest with you, Tony. I think you know that.”

  Another nod. His mom bit her lip and surveyed him.

  “One of the things that attracted me to your dad was his love for adven
ture. He would do … ” She smiled. “ … anything. Just for the thrill of it, you know. We went rock climbing. Scuba diving. We did so many things—and it wasn’t enough.”

  She sat down then and Tony looked away. His expression, however, had lost some of its hardness. He looked guilty now—guilty and a bit uncertain.

  “Adventure—that adrenaline rush you get—that can become an addiction,” said his mom. Alice was surprised to hear that she sounded not angry, but concerned. Her parents would have screamed at her for half an hour and banished her to her room for months if she’d pulled a stunt like that.

  “Part of the reason your dad is … the way he is—always looking for the next big lead, running around the world searching for something—he’s trying to feel something, Tony. It isn’t enough for him to be content. If his heart isn’t pounding, if he doesn’t have that thrill, he forgets that he’s alive. And so he goes from fix to fix, but he isn’t happy.” She paused, put her hand on Tony’s knee. “This will eat you up. Don’t let it get to that point, Tony. It’s a long road back.”

  Tony didn’t answer. He swallowed hard and blinked several times.

  “Now,” his mother said, businesslike, “you’re going to have to appear in court. There’ll be a hearing and you’ll be lucky if you just end up with some community service. As for the car … ” She looked angry for the first time. Tony still couldn’t meet her eyes.

  “It was your car,” she said. “And you decided how you were going to use it. Now you’ll just have to deal with the consequences.”

  “Is it—”

  “Totaled.”

  “If you’d just let me keep it—I could fix it. I could try. Dad … Dad would let me.”