Mirrored (28 page)

“Celine?” I step from behind the door frame before I have time to chicken out. “I’m . . . I’m here.” Is she mad? Will she laugh at me?

She’s half sitting up on the bed, leaning on her hands, her blue eyes wide open. When she sees me, her face breaks into this huge smile that wasn’t there before, not even for meeting Jonah.

“Goose! You are here! You went away, and I missed you so much!” She adjusts herself on the bed, then reaches out her hand.

I run to take it. God. It’s not like I haven’t touched her hand before, but this is so . . . intentional. Almost like kissing her, but almost kind of better than kissing her because she knows I’m doing it. Is it possible? Could my kiss have awakened her?

“You . . . missed me?” I ask. “You knew I was gone?”

“Of course. Everyone thinks that people in comas don’t hear anything, don’t know anything. But we do hear or at least
I
did, and we have a lot of time to think, too, about . . . everything. I knew you were here all that time. And then, I knew you left. Why did you leave? I missed you, even when I was asleep.”

She missed me.
I get more daring. I squeeze her hand. I see the little burn scar I noticed that day. It’s really her hand I’m holding. “I left to find Jonah, to get him to kiss you.”

“Why did you want him to kiss me?” She squeezes back, only instead of just a little squeeze, she clings to my hand.

“Kendra said a handsome prince might break the spell. I thought . . . Jonah Prince. Prince. I thought he was your handsome prince, your true love.”

She laughs, shaking her head. The light from overhead makes her hair sparkle like those black stones goth girls have in jewelry. “He’s not my true love. I just like his music.” She looks at Jonah. “No offense.”

“None taken,” he says. “You seem quite a pleasant girl, but I don’t love you either.”

“I do love your music,” she says politely.

“But you woke up,” I say. “How?” Because, even though the thought has been forming in my head, I want her to say it. After all, maybe it’s just that I love her. That’s what Jonah said. Maybe me loving her is enough.

“You silly goose! How could you have awakened me without knowing the answer?” I guess I’m still staring at her blankly because she says, “True love, right?”

“True love?” Obsidian. That’s what those black stones are called. They’re supposed to be magic. Her hair is like obsidian. “What? Who?”

She’s still clutching my hand. With the other, I gesture to myself. “Me?”

“You.” She loosens her grip. “I mean, if you feel the same way. Maybe you don’t.”

“If I feel . . . ?” And suddenly, my mouth is stretching so far, my face smiling so hard it hurts. “You mean you and me? You don’t mean you love me as a friend, or . . . any of those other things girls say?”

She’s just staring at me weird, and she says, “Nuh-uh. None of that. That first day at auditions, I was like, ‘This guy is awesome.’ You were so bold. And I agreed to be Oliver partly so I could know you better. And then, when I did, you were sweet and funny and smart. And brave. You protected me. You
saved
me, like a hero.” It’s like in my dreams, every dream I’d had. Her voice, saying she wants me, and it’s finally dawning on me, what she’s saying. “You’re the one who woke me up after all.”

“I did, but . . .” I step closer, wanting to take her in my arms now. “You really . . . ?”

“Perhaps I’ll go get a nurse,” Jonah says, “let her immortalize this moment on film to tweet to my fans and make my agent happy.”

I guess he leaves. I’m not really paying attention.

“I read the poem,” she says, “the one you wrote.”

“You did? It’s really . . . embarrassing.” I’m still not completely wrapping my head around the idea that this is happening.

She shakes her head. “I loved it.” Celine holds her other hand out, wiggling her fingers until I come closer. Then, she touches my face. Her hand is so soft. “It let me know you felt the same way I did. I hadn’t admitted it to myself before then, even when Izzy flat out asked me.”

“Really?” I wonder how long she felt this way, how long I was wondering when I didn’t have to.

She nods. “God, you’re so adorable.”

“Really? Adorable? That’s the adjective you’re choosing? Like I’m a kid or a teddy bear?” But I’m thinking,
She thinks I’m adorable
.

“Oh, don’t be stupid. People call big guys cute all the time. Adorable as in, I
adore
you. I adore you G . . . what’s your first name? It’s strange to love a guy called Goose. When I was sleeping, I tried to remember if I’d seen it in the program for
Oliver!
, but I couldn’t envision it.”

I laugh not because it’s really funny but just because I’m happy. “Nope. It wasn’t there. They listed me as Goose Guzman. That’s what I told Connors to do.” Now, I want to stop talking and kiss her again.

“But that’s not what’s on your birth certificate. At least, I hope it’s not. I mean, when you graduate, your diploma won’t say Goose Guzman, will it?”

I laugh again, all stupid-happy like our neighbor’s shih tzu, who
practically turns himself inside out from ecstasy when you pet him. “Nah. My father wanted me to have a big name since I was a little guy. His name’s only one syllable, Jorge; two if you pronounce it the Spanish way, Hor-hey. They gave all of us big names, Antonio, Isabella, and me, Mauricio. It’s a dumb name.”

I’m talking too much. Less talking, more kissing.

She smiles. “Mauricio. I like it.” She rolls closer to the edge of the bed. “Aren’t you going to kiss me again, Mauricio?”

I do. I do, and the sparks and the magic and the fireworks are all there just like before.

Suddenly there are people in the room, and there’s music, a guitar, and a voice,singing.

Sometimes when I see your face,

It takes me to a better place.

When I look into your eyes,

Walls fall down and curtains rise . . .

And I’m kissing Celine, holding, crushing her to me like I always wanted to and never dreamed possible. She loves me and I love her, and she’s alive and safe, and we’re together.

Finally, though, we break apart, and I say, “What is that music?”

“Oh, sorry.” It’s Jonah. “I was feeling a bit of the third wheel here, so I thought that, if this was a movie, there would be music. I do love a happy ending. Harry brought up the guitar, but perhaps it is a bit—”

“No.” I grin. “There would be music.”

“There definitely would be,” Celine agrees.

The other people in the room are nurses, and then a doctor shows up too. And Kendra, who
looks
like Kendra and a little worse for wear too. I know I’ll hear what happened later. They’re all pretty
shocked to see that Celine is, in fact, not dead, but I resist the urge to gloat. What are doctors supposed to know about magic spells? So we let them think they cured her. After some debate, they unhook Celine’s feeding tube and everything, and after about six hours of tests and my dad (who filed an emergency petition to become her legal guardian, after Jonah and I explain about Violet attacking us in the elevator) filling out a ream of paperwork, and photographers taking tons of photos to prove Jonah was here, the hospital lets Celine go home. With us. With me.

“So what do you want to do when we get there?” I ask Celine on the way downstairs.

She squeezes my hand. “I was thinking we could make some smoothies and watch
Some Kind of Wonderful.
”

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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

P
ART 4

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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

Kendra

The elevator door slams shut behind them, and a ball of fire comes at me.

“Hey!” I yell. “If you don’t stop, you’re going to kill us both!”

“Does it really matter?” Violet asks.

“It does to me. I want to see how this turns out, whether he wakes her.” For I have realized that Violet wouldn’t be here if she didn’t think Celine would wake. And I’ve realized something else. I’ve figured out who can wake her. It’s not Jonah Prince.

I see Violet gearing up for another attack. Her magic is no greater than mine. It may be less. But she’s more ruthless. She loves no one and has nothing to lose. I used to feel that way, but now . . . well, I want to check on Celine. I can hold Violet at bay long enough for Goose and Jonah to reach her, I hope, but I can’t stop Violet forever.

I’ve frozen the elevator on the fourteenth floor. Another explosion rocks it.

I dodge the fireball, putting it out with a neat blast of water.

“Play with fire,” I say, “and we’ll both get burned.”

Violet smiles. “The difference between us is I don’t care if I die. I don’t care about anything.”

“Then why hurt that sweet child?”

“Because that child is evil, the spawn of evil.” She walks away as much as possible in an elevator. I know why she’s doing it, to make me think she’s pacing, make me let down my guard. But I never let down my guard with Violet. I did it early on, and I regret it.

“You think she’s like her mother?” I say, eyes firmly on her.

“Her mother, or her father. Greg was no better. I see that now. He wanted Jennifer as a trophy, no more. That’s why he preferred her even when we were both beautiful. She had more status.”

“Maybe he loved Jennifer, and not you.” I can’t resist twisting the knife. What difference does it make? Being careful around Violet didn’t help.

Violet ignores me. “He wanted her as a trophy. And then, when she was gone, he wanted me for the same reason. He never loved either of us, not really.” She shakes her head sadly.

“Celine loved you,” I say. “Before she knew you killed her mother, she loved you.”

Violet looks over her shoulder at me, her face like a crumpled gardenia. “No one has ever loved me, not really.”

“You know that isn’t true.” I walk over to her and lay a hand on her shoulder. “I have loved you like a daughter since the first day we met.”

And, like a real daughter, she fights against me, pushing me away with hands suddenly burning hot. I cringe, and she says, “You don’t love me.”

“I do, though I did you a disservice, allowing you to change yourself so much.”

I remember how she looked that first day, so small and pale, beaten down by those horrible boys. I’d had my own experiences with boys like that, and I’d have done
anything
to help her. I had done anything. I had given her my knowledge, my instruction, my magic, my heart. At what point did I give too much, do too much? And could I have stopped her if I’d tried?

“A disservice?” Violet murmurs, as if she hasn’t quite heard. “I was miserable. You . . . tried to help me.”

“But did I help you? Or did I make things worse?”

She shakes her head, still not looking at me. “I don’t know.”

A voice comes through the elevator’s intercom. “Are you all right in there? We’re sending help.”

“It’s fine.” But, obviously, time is running out. I can’t keep Violet in this elevator forever. She could leave if she chose. I only hope she’ll stay. I must persuade her to make peace with Celine or, at least, leave her alone.

“Celine isn’t who you think,” I tell her.

“Of course not,” Violet snaps. “I’m always wrong about everything.”

“Maybe not everything, but this. You told Goose that Celine could never care about him. You were wrong about that too.”

She shakes her head. “I wasn’t. Little bitch would only want the captain of the football team. She’d never appreciate that kid, even after all he went through for her.”

I pull a mirror from my voluminous skirt. Violet knows what it is because she has one just like it. I gave it to her so many years ago, and we have spoken through it almost every day. I say, “Show me Celine.”

The scene in the mirror shifts to Celine’s hospital room. Celine
is awake, looking around the room. She says, “True love, right?” My heart feels tight in my chest. It worked!

Violet pushes the mirror back toward me. “That proves nothing. The pop star, he woke her up.”

I angle the mirror toward her. Now, Celine is holding Goose’s hand, gazing into his eyes.

“She loves him, always has. So you were wrong about that. What else were you wrong about, Violet?”

She stares at the mirror like someone in a fog. “I don’t know.” She takes it from me, gazing at the happy couple. “This is all I ever wanted. This. Love. But when Greg died, there was no chance left for me.”

“No chance? You have every chance. You’re immortal, magical. There is always another chance.” It’s a conversation we’ve had before, unsuccessfully. She doesn’t seem to comprehend how long her life will be. I, with hundreds of years behind me, know that life stretches before her like a patchwork quilt with many experiences, some beautiful, some heartbreaking. “Go someplace where no one knows you, and start again.”

“Someplace else.” The mirror catches the ceiling lights. “Yes, someplace else. Will you take care of her then, of Celine?”

So you can always know where to find her?
But I don’t say it. She is staring so oddly that I wonder what she has in mind. “Of course Celine will be taken care of. But what about you, my darling?”

“Yes.” Her voice is a shredded whisper. “What about me?”

And suddenly, the elevator begins moving, down this time. It doesn’t stop at twelve or anywhere but goes all the way to the bottom. When the door opens, Violet steps forward, then out. “Good-bye, Kendra. And thank you. I know what I have to do.”

She presses the twelve button, gives a tiny wave of her fingers. They are, as usual, perfectly manicured. Everything about her is
lovely, luminous. If you didn’t know her, you’d think she was perfect.

She smiles as the door closes, and I know I will never see her again.

On the twelfth floor is celebration. Celine, Goose, Goose’s father, Jonah, all celebrate Celine’s revival. A photographer snaps pictures. It is hours before we leave, and when we do, I go in the car with Goose, Celine, and his father. Goose and Celine sit in the backseat, holding hands.

“I think you should stay with me,” I tell Celine. “I can protect you in case . . .” I’m not actually sure Violet intends to do anything, but I realize I want Celine with me. “You don’t need protection anymore, probably. But I’m alone and you’re alone. It was meant to be.” She can be my daughter, and I can do a better job this time.

“That might be good,” Goose’s father says. “If you two are . . . together, it wouldn’t be right for Celine to live with us.” I see him raise his eyes in the rearview, but then he smiles.

“Hey,” Goose says. “I thought you said you couldn’t just zap people someplace. Looked like you kind of zapped into that elevator.”

I shrug. “Every rule has an exception.”

Celine says, “I’d like to live with you, Kendra. But you don’t think Violet will try to harm me again?”

I start to say I don’t know what Violet will do, but that I will try to protect her.

Then, something catches my eye.

Off in the distance, a plume of smoke, a brush fire maybe. But it’s not in the right direction for a brush fire, not to the west. Rather, it’s in the direction of—

I nudge Goose’s father and point. “Drive that way.”

“What? Why?”

But then, he too sees it, an orange blur, a flame, just for a second.

Celine, noticing, shrieks, “Oh, no! No! Do you think—?”

I shake my head. “I’m not sure.”

We follow the smoke until we are on a familiar street, Violet’s street. Celine’s street. Celine’s house.

The house is in flames.

I hear glass breaking, and a crow flies overhead.