Mirrored (25 page)

“I hate you!” she screams. “I hate you, Jonah Prince! I hate you!”

With my unique view of the floor, I see her remove first one strappy sandal, then the other. I hear her hurl them against the wall.

I try not to move, to be very Zen-like, meditative, enlightened, planning my course of action. I’m in Allegra’s room. After Allegra either leaves or passes out, I’ll take out the mirror and contact Kendra. Hopefully, she’ll have figured out the relation between Allegra’s room and Jonah’s. Hopefully. Hopefully, they’re adjoining with a connecting door. If so, I can simply walk into Jonah’s room and talk to him when he gets back.

And hopefully, he won’t be a complete douche.

My neck hurts so much. So much. I try to adjust it.

And tumble to the floor.

For a second, time stops. I lie there, dazed, thinking—I don’t
know—thinking maybe if I don’t move at all, Allegra won’t notice a guy lying on her floor.

But no, I can see her eyes. She knows I’m here.

And she’s winding up for a good scream.

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“No, please!” I stumble to my feet. “Please don’t be scared!”

It’s hard to stand with both feet asleep, and for a second, I think I’ll fall. Allegra gapes at me, mouth open but no words coming from it.

I say, “I am your
biggest
fan. I just had to see you in person. I’d never hurt you.” I stare at her like I’m starstruck. “Wow, you’re so beautiful!”

She really is. I see her decide not to scream. She closes her mouth, then opens it right back up again.

“You’re . . . little.”

You’re . . . observant.

But I say, “Yeah.”

“Sorry. My brother’s about your size, my older brother. He’s away at college.”

Somewhere in the far recesses of my mind, I think I knew this, the way you just know things about famous people without actually knowing where you know it from. Probably, Isabella. Kid is a storehouse of completely worthless information.

Or maybe not that worthless.

I say, “Do you miss him?”

And her face sort of breaks. She starts to cry, dark hair falling over her face. “I miss him so much. Caleb’s his name. He goes to school in Louisiana, and he’s always saying I should just . . . chuck this and come home. I miss him and my mom and dad. I miss everyone. I want to go home!”

On shaky legs, I approach her. What is it about me that makes women burst into tears in my presence? Still, better than screaming. Being from Miami, I’m a hugger. But that’s out of the question. I keep my distance as much as possible, holding out my hand.

She reaches for it. “What’s your name?”

“People call me Goose.”

She shakes her hair away from her face. Her eyelashes are moist, with a bit of mascara under her eyes. “I’m Allegra. I guess you knew that. I’m so lonely I kept that room service girl here until my ice cream melted. I have no one to talk to, no one but Jonah, and he h-hates me.”

“I’ll talk to you.” She still hasn’t let go of my hand, so I squeeze hers. “Talking’s my superpower.”

She smiles. “My brother’s like that too.” Finally, she drops my hand. “You’re positively not going to kill me, right?”

I shake my head. “If I was, wouldn’t I have done it already?”

“I guess.” She inhales a huge load of snot. “I could use a tissue.”

I wonder if she usually has someone wipe her nose for her. “Let me get one. Which way’s the bathroom?” Her room is huge, and it connects to another room, a living room, which is why it took Caitlin so long to push the trolley through. There’s a balcony on one end
of the room, but no connecting door. I glance into the living room. There’s another balcony, an entry door, and yes, a closed door—maybe it connects to Jonah’s room. I head into the bathroom and grab a wad of tissues. I hand them to Allegra. “Cry away, milady,” I say in my Cockney accent. “Sorry, I was in the school play,
Oliver!
, and we talked like that.”

Allegra sniffles into a second and third tissue. Her face is red and puffy. “I’d love to be in a school play. It sounds so . . . normal.”

“Most people in my school play would love to be on a TV series.”

“That’s because they don’t know what it’s like to have your career be over at seventeen.”

“You mean just because your show went off the air? You’ll get another.”

“No, I won’t. People hate me.” She picks up tissue number four.

“The girl who delivered your room service didn’t hate you. She said she was a fan.”

“No, she said her little sister’s a fan. People watched my show when they were younger, but then they outgrew it, so they hate me. Do you know there are ‘I hate Allegra Kendall’ Facebooks, Twitters, Instagrams, and Tumblrs? One of the Twitters is called DieAllegraDie. People post about what a whore I am, or how I can’t act. If I wear a bikini, someone takes a picture and says I’m a slut. If I wear a big sweatshirt, they say I’m getting fat. I optioned this book I liked, because I wanted to make it into a movie, and people said I was doing it because I had to pay to get roles. They hate that I date Jonah, so it should make them happy that he dumped me.”

“He’s kind of a jerk, isn’t he?”

“Yes!” Her eyes widen, and she nods. “He’s a total jerk. Cute only gets you so far. He’s rude. He loogeyed on his fans once. More than once. But they love him and hate me. They’re all just waiting for me to get drunk and do a sex tape. My agent thinks that wouldn’t be
a bad thing, prove I’m not a baby anymore.”

I eye the bottle of wine which, I notice, is open but still full. “Is that what you think too?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean, I don’t know why I ordered it. I guess because my boyfriend broke up with me, and you’re supposed to get drunk. But I don’t really like drinking. I like being in control of myself.” She looks at me, like she wants my opinion.

“I think that’s smart.” This goes against my plan to wait until she passed out. But I guess that went out the window when she saw me anyway. Besides, I feel bad for her. I remember the room service girl, Kasey. If Allegra gets drunk to go out with Jonah, the paparazzi will take pictures and make her look bad. I can sneak into Jonah’s room after Allegra leaves—if she trusts me.

And I’m trustworthy. I say, “If you get drunk and the press gets photos, won’t it hurt your chances of getting into college?” She stares at me like I’m crazy. “Sorry. My mom’s always worried about college.”

She laughs. “Yeah, college. What a joke. I could never go to college.” She takes the last tissue.

“Why not? Lots of kid stars go to college. Jodie Foster was a kid star, and she went to Yale. Natalie Portman went to Harvard. Emma Watson started at Brown, but she quit because she was working too much.” More stuff I know without knowing
how
I know.

“High class problems.” She sniffles deeply.

“Let me get you more tissues.” I go back to the bathroom and, this time, remove the whole Kleenex box from its holder and hand it to her.

“Thanks. You are so nice.” She blows her nose. “I could never get into a college like that. I’m not smart enough.” She starts picking up the pile of used tissues.

“I bet you are. Or just go to a normal college. Where’s your brother go?”

“Loyola.” She sighs and tries to stuff the tissues into her pocket. “Back home. God, I’d love to go to school with Caleb. I miss him so much.”

“You should go. I bet you have a ton of money saved up. Then, if you still wanted to act, you could come back afterward, when you don’t have to get drunk or pose nude to prove you’re a grown-up.”

“I would never pose nude,” she says. “But you’re right.”

We talk like that for maybe an hour, maybe more. I tell her about the classes I take in school and how it’s my ambition to play Boq in
Wicked
on Broadway. She tells me about her family, the TV show, and how everyone pushed her to date Jonah, to be part of Jollegra. But then, the teen girls hated her even more because she “took him” from them. “I really barely know him. We never once talked the way I’m talking to you right now. I have no friends. This is the longest conversation I’ve had in a year, and you’re some guy who snuck into my hotel room.”

I shrug. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“No, no. Don’t be. I’m glad you did. You kept me from doing something really stupid.” She glances at the clock. “Oh, gosh, I have to get out of here soon. Command performance with his highness. I bet I’m a mess.”

“No, you’re beautiful. Your eye shadow’s just smeared. Here, let me help you.”

I get the makeup I saw in the bathroom and help her clean up. Then, we tackle what to do with the wine, and with me. She’s worried that, if someone knows about the wine, they’ll think she drank it, and if they know she has a guy in her room, they’ll say she’s a slut. “I haven’t done one slutty thing ever,” she says. “They don’t care.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll sneak out after you leave.”

“Are you sure?”

“I snuck in. And maybe you can give the wine to the maid, like a tip.”

So we write a note to the maid and put it on the wine. Allegra takes a picture of the bottle with her phone, to prove it.

“Do you want a picture of us?” she asks me.

“Huh?” Then, I remember, I’m supposed to be her biggest fan. Also, if my parents don’t murder me, I could show it to Isabella. “I forgot my phone. Can you take one with yours and send it to me?”

“Good idea. Then, I’d have your phone number, and you’d have mine. We could talk sometimes. You could tell me about high school.” She crouches down beside me to snap the photo.

“And you could tell
me
about high school, when you go back to Louisiana.”

She squeezes my shoulder and takes another shot. “I think I might actually do that. I mean, yeah, the press will assume I’m pregnant, but I’ll know the truth.”

“So will I.”

She looks at the photos. “It would be so cool to be friends with you.”

“That’s me, every girl’s BFF.”

And no one’s true love.

She sends the photo to the number I give her. Just as she does, there’s a knock on the door.

“That’s Jonah. Gotta go.” She looks at me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I nod. “I’ll think of a way out.” I already have.

She leans and kisses me on the cheek. “You’re an incredible person, Goose. You’ve really opened my eyes.”

“I’m glad.”

I hide behind the curtains as she opens the door. I hear Jonah’s voice. “So, I suppose we’re doing this,” he says in his British accent.

“I suppose we are,” Allegra says. “Look, I’m sorry about before.”

“I don’t want to get back together.”

“No, neither do I.” Her voice is calm, even happy. “I just want to
get along and stop fighting and everything.”

A pause. “Sounds good. Shall we?”

“We shall.”

I hear the door close behind Allegra. I wait a minute, then two, before I move from my spot, in case anyone comes back. No one does, so I check out the living room.

The connecting door is locked from the other side. If Jonah’s room is on either side of Allegra’s, there’s only one way to get to it.

Climb over the balcony.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

Did I mention I’m afraid of heights?

After Allegra leaves, I contact Kendra through the mirror.

“You’re still in Allegra’s room?” She’s wearing a black lace mantilla, but otherwise, she looks like Violet.

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“Hmm, magic. That’s how I know you’re in room 2016, and Jonah was next door in 2015, so you only have to get one room over.”

“Yeah. Only.” I look out the glass doors. It’s so high, I can see Cinderella’s castle in the Magic Kingdom. “And you still can’t magically zap me there?”

“Still, no.”

“Really? What’s the good of having magic powers?”

Kendra grimaces. “I often wonder that myself.”

I hang up or sign off or whatever you do when you talk to someone
in a magic mirror. I ask the mirror to show me Jonah.

He’s in a limo, sitting with Allegra, but pretty far apart. She’s trying to talk to him. “I was thinking about going back to Louisiana.”

He says, “That’s nice.” He smiles at his phone, takes a selfie, then stares at it. He picks his teeth with his pinky.

Terrific. They are well and truly broken up. That means when he meets Celine, if she does wake up, they can fall in love. He’ll be available. And he’s such a douche. I’m going through all this so a girl I like can ride into the sunset with a douche.

Maybe he won’t like her. Any guy with eyes would like her.

I visualize Celine’s smile. Of course he’ll like her.

I decide to wait in Allegra’s room for a while. The concert’s at seven, so Jonah won’t be back until at least nine. Maybe if I climb over the balcony after dark, I won’t be able to see the ground below.

I look in the mirror. “Show me Celine.”

In the mirror, I see her, dark hair fanned out over the crisp, white pillow, her heart-shaped mouth curled into a tiny smile. Is she dreaming? Does she know I’m gone?

I remember what Violet said about letting her live forever, comatose. Would I rather not know if she could never love me than lose her?

No. I want her to be happy. She’s been through so much, losing her mother, her dad. She deserves to be happy, even if it’s not with me.

“I love you,” I tell the mirror.

Celine doesn’t respond. Of course, she couldn’t hear me even if she was awake.

I stare at her another minute.

I decide to check out—just check out—the situation on the balcony. I pick up my backpack, open the sliding glass door, and head outside.

The balcony is a large one, spanning both the living and bedroom areas of Allegra’s suite. At its front is a white aluminum railing. I don’t know much about construction, but it seems pretty flimsy, with vertical rails about six inches apart and some ornamental scrollwork on top. I edge out, remembering the part in season one of
Game of Thrones
where Tyrion’s imprisoned in the sky cells, these dungeons on the side of a sheer cliff with no wall on one side and an abrupt thousand foot drop. At least I have a railing. At least I’ll only fall into the pool area and have the remote possibility of just being a quadriplegic.

Except—oh, right—Tyrion was
fictional.

Still, I have to look. I walk to the side of the balcony closest to Jonah’s room. It’s not a balcony that bumps out. I won’t have to scale a wall. Allegra’s balcony and Jonah’s are only inches apart.

For an average height guy, it would be a no-brainer, just lift himself over the railing (which reaches my chest but would reach someone else’s hip at least), swing his leg over the other railing, and drop down.

Down.

I picture myself, swan-diving off the railing, splattering on the pavement.

Florida Man plummets from hotel balcony.

My parents will hear about it on the news.

My mother will know she was right.

And Celine will stay in a coma.

I look across again, aware of my breathing, which is crazy-hard, hard enough that it sounds like a car with a busted muffler, and my teeth feel like they’re buzzing.

Okay, I need to go back inside, just for a while, a second. Slowly, carefully, like Tyrion in the sky cells, I edge toward the door.

Shit, there’s someone in Allegra’s room. The maid.

I rush to the corner of the balcony, sit down, and hide.

The good thing about being my size is it’s easy to hide.

The bad thing is, I feel like I could fit through the railings.

I can’t. They made it so kids can’t fit through. Isabella couldn’t. I’m bigger than a kid.

That doesn’t change my racing thoughts and heart. If I could just be reasonable, I wouldn’t have this fear. But that’s not how it works.

I close my eyes and picture myself, over and over, splattering to the ground. Even the solid stucco wall behind me doesn’t help.

I want my mother.

No. No. I don’t. I’m here. I want to do this. Put on your big boy pants, Guzman. You can do this.

Once again, I take out the mirror.

“Show me Celine.”

The mirror shows me her room again, her face. Kendra, disguised as Violet, sits in the visitor’s chair while an elderly nurse checks Celine’s chart. I watch until the nurse walks out.

Desperate
not
to look down, I ask the mirror to show me Stacey.

She’s at home, in our kitchen. God, I wish I was in our kitchen. She’s cleaning up dinner dishes. She hasn’t noticed I’m gone yet. At least, she hasn’t started worrying. I check my watch. Seven-thirty. Half an hour into the concert.

“Show me Jonah.”

He’s in his dressing room. I can hear the opening band in the background. He looks stoned, and he’s meeting some fans who are posing for cell phone pictures.

“Show me Violet.”

The mirror shows me the same elderly nurse who was in Celine’s room.

“No, show me Violet.”

Still, the nurse.

I get it. The nurse is Violet. But Violet promised to leave Celine alone.

Violet lied.

Of course Violet lied. Violet is at the hospital, disguised as a nurse. With access to drugs, access to needles.

And access to Celine.

I look at her name tag as she walks out. It says,
Lavinia Barnes, RN
.

“Show me Kendra.”

“I still can’t zap you into Jonah’s room.” Kendra still looks like Violet. This is really confusing.

“Listen! Violet’s in the hospital.” I tell her about Nurse Barnes, what I saw. “Please don’t let her hurt Celine, and maybe . . .”

“What?”

“Maybe get my parents, my dad. See if there’s something they can do to protect her.”

Her face, Violet’s beautiful, horrible face, shows confusion. “But if I go to your parents, I can’t stay with Celine.”

“I was thinking maybe you could use the phone.”

She rolls her eyes. “Ohhh, the phone. Of course.” She turns and looks at the old-fashioned beige phone on the bedside table. “How does it work?”

Geez. I walk her through it. Several times. Finally, she gets it. She says she’ll call.

I’ve been trying not to look around too much, not to look
down.
Instead, I look out. It’s after eight now. The sun is sinking into the orange pool of the sky. The mirror shows me Jonah, singing onstage. It’s almost time.

I stare through the glass door. The maid is still in Allegra’s room. She’s drinking the wine Allegra left. What if she sees me? I walk to the edge of the balcony. Even though it’s June and hot, I suddenly
feel chilled to the bone. My legs, my arms, my hands are shaking, teeth chattering.

As I reach the very edge of the balcony, my hands shake harder. The mirror slips from my grip.

I hear it shatter to the ground, twenty floors below.

Shit.