The mirror scoffs. “I was placed in this mirror by the strongest of magics, and nothing can diminish my powers.”
“Well, we’re not really taking away your power,” I say. “We’re just going to prevent you from using it.”
I squeeze Luke’s hand and he nods. “I wish that you can no longer show your face or communicate with another person until the end of time,” Luke says.
The mirror’s mouth drops open. “No, wai—” The surface flashes with light, and then our reflections reappear.
“One down, two to go,” I say.
“I wish the second mirror you created was destroyed.”
The light flashes again.
“And finally, I wish that you are unable to fulfill any wishes inadvertently made in your presence.”
The glass flashes once more, and I know it’s over—finally, finally over. Luke turns the flashlight off and takes me in his arms. I hear his heart beating, and feel safe at last.
Since Ari and Mr. Roy died, I’ve read all of the Brothers Grimm fairy tales. I’ve tried to guess which ones might be true and which ones might still be unfolding after all this time. But as I read those stories filled with beasts, magic, and murder, I saw that there was always the side trip through hell that came before the happy ending. I think I can safely say I’ve lived that hell, and it’s time for my happily ever after.
I tilt my chin up and kiss Luke.
“I love you,” he whispers.
“I love you too.” I lay my head back on his chest and think that one of these days I’ll be smiling like the girl in the painting in his room.
SINK YOUR TEETH INTO ANOTHER NOVEL BY AMANDA MARRONE:
UNINVITED
I close my eyes, hoping he won’t come tonight. It’s later than usual. I hope he’s given up, or just gone, and I can finally sleep. Cool air blows through the window, and I marvel at my bravery. Or stupidity. It’s opened just a crack, no more than an inch. But until tonight I’ve kept it closed, so I know he’ll be wondering what it means.
I listen for some movement in the branches outside, but the leaves are dry and noisy now. I open my eyes—I have to look. It’s better when I see him coming. I put every ounce of energy into listening, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dark. I turn my head, grimacing at the sound of my long hair against the pillowcase. I look out my window, searching the branches, wondering if he’d still come if I chopped down the tree.
“Jordan, are you awake?”
My heart races as I hunt for Michael among the branches. His dark form is pressed against the trunk a few feet higher from his usual perch. How long has he been watching me? He drops down, settling in closer to the window, and I remind myself to look for an ax in the morning.
“Jordan, let me in.”
“Go away, Michael. I will never let you in.” My voice is steady and calm, without emotion. I’ve said these words a hundred times today, so they’d become automatic. So I wouldn’t change my mind.
Michael sighs, and I think I see him nodding. He knows I’m not ready to let him in. I suspect he knows I think about it, though. I suspect he knows that a part of me wants to.
“You don’t know how good you have it, Jo.”
I don’t like where this is leading. This won’t be a “let’s talk about the future” night. Michael’s missing his old life and he’ll keep me up for hours if I encourage him.
“Did you go to school today? Did anyone talk about me?”
I roll my eyes. “This is high school, Michael, you’re old news. People have found better things to gossip about. I mean, dying in the summer … well, your timing was way off. If having people remember you is important, that is. There’s just way too much happening, people move on pretty quickly. Now, if you had died during the school year, that would have made a bigger impact.”
“God, Jo! This isn’t easy for me, you know.”
I nod and wonder if his eyes see better than mine. Can he see I’m putting on an act, that every inch of my skin tingles when he sits outside my window? “I’m sorry, Michael, but I’m tired. I need to sleep.”
“But I miss you, Jo. It’s not like you think. I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep at all. I’m awake with nothing to do. Nothing to do but think, and miss you.”
“I’ll leave some books outside for you tomorrow. Maybe you can accomplish something you never did when you were alive—you can actually read a book. Or, hey, how about this? You can walk into the sunlight and end this all. Have you thought of that? What would happen if you walked into the sun?”
Michael’s quiet, and I think he may keep it short tonight—until he taps his foot on my window.
“How’s Steve and Eric?” he asks. “They still playing ball?”
“Oh God.” I turn my back to the window. “Ask me something I care about. Your stupid friends are exactly the same as they were when you were alive. They live and breathe football or basketball or whatever stupid ball season it is. They still hang out with their gorgeous girlfriends and they still smash mailboxes after a few too many beers. I’m surprised you haven’t joined them. That was one of your favorite pastimes, wasn’t it?”
He doesn’t answer, and I remember Michael making out with some girl—one hand up her short skirt, pressing her against the lockers—acting like he wasn’t making an ass of himself. I wonder how many guys walking past dreamed of trading places with Michael? I know how often I dreamed of trading places with that girl.
“So, what, they don’t talk about me? Like, not at all?”
He’s definitely not letting it go tonight. I think he actually thought they’d worship him forever.
I turn back to the window, but I remember to move slowly this time. I’ve seen my cat throw itself against the window trying to catch the birds outside in the tree. I sometimes wonder if Michael will lose patience with me and begin to think of me like that, like a bird. Like his prey. So I move bit by bit because I don’t know what I would do if Michael were to throw himself against the glass.
“I lied before,” I finally say. “Everyone talks about you. They actually talk about you a lot.” I pause and let Michael think what he will. “But they’re not reminiscing. They think you killed yourself.” I’ve wanted to tell Michael this for a long time, but he was such a mess over the summer, it didn’t seem right. But tonight I’m feeling mean, and I won’t baby him. Besides, he doesn’t seem to care about what his visits do to me.
“What? Who thinks that?”
“Everyone. Everyone at school. And I’ve been wondering, too.” I bite my lip, deciding if I should go on.
“I’ve told you what happened,” he says sharply. “You know what I was dealing with. There’s no way I could have stopped it.”
I’ve been wondering if that’s true, but I can’t tell him that—not yet. “Well, they think you killed yourself and they talk about why you did it. And not just your friends. Everyone.”
I let my words sink in. I let him mull over the thought of the entire school ignoring his football record in favor of gossip.
“You wouldn’t believe the theories that went around. Some were really laughable. ‘Michael was bipolar.’ ‘Michael only had one month to live.’ But don’t feel too bad, it was purely defensive. People needed to find the flaws they’d missed when you were alive, because if the great Michael Green couldn’t handle things, how is everybody else supposed to?”
“Well, at least you know the truth,” he says.
I’ve wounded him and catch myself before a satisfied smile emerges on my face. I’m long past trying to understand what Michael does to me. Making me wish he were here in my room—in my bed—again, then the next minute making me relish the hurt in his voice. But I won’t beat myself up for bruising his ego. He’s made me his prisoner every night, and I’m glad when I can get a dig in.
“Damn it!” he growls, startling me. “I’m sick of talking. Let me in!”
He suddenly shifts his weight and slaps his palms against the glass. I flinch like it’s me he?
??s hit. I try to shrink away from him and sink into the mattress. God, why did I say those things?
My mouth dries to paper as I suck in the cold air pouring in over the sill. I make myself as small as possible and freeze into place. So far the window has barred his way. But that damn inch. I imagine him with new cat eyes that can see in the dark, noticing the currents of air playing around the opening. Does he know what I did—can he see? Is that small opening invitation enough for him to enter?
“Jordan,” he croons. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just miss you so much. I just want to be with you.”
He jumps down to the ground, and I melt into the bed.
I’m shaking, but I won’t pull up the blanket. I need to feel the cold; I need to feel something besides the ache I get when he leaves me. I hate myself for wanting him, for feeling flattered it’s me he haunts every night.
Three months now I’ve talked to him through the window. Three months I’ve conjured his face from the time when he was mine. I see his chestnut eyes, his brown curls, his white, white teeth, and full mouth. I put that face on over the shadows and imagine we could start over.
But the leaves are falling and soon Michael will sit on bare branches. Moonlight will finally find its way to his face, and I’ll see what I know is true: that Michael is a monster.
I’m just afraid that one of these nights I might let him in.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
AMANDA MARRONE grew up on Long Island, where she spent her time reading, drawing, watching insects, and suffering from an overactive imagination. She earned a BA in education at SUNY Cortland and taught fifth and sixth grades in New Hampshire. She now lives in Connecticut with her husband, Joe, and their two kids. You can read more about Amanda Marrone’s work at www.amandamarrone.com.
Amanda Marrone, Devoured
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