Young Adventurers Read online

  “Yes, you did. I talked to Tommy and Kevin’s parents.” Grams shook her head. “I just never expected this from you.” She laid her wrinkled hands in her lap waiting for me to speak. “You could come up with your own penance.”

  I traced the squares on the oil cloth table covering with my fingertips. I enjoyed being outside so working in the yard wouldn’t be a burden nor would sitting in my room and reading all day. One thing crossed my mind. “I could spend more time with Katie,” I offered.

  Grams laughed. “I think that might be punishment for her, too.” She rose from her seat. “How about you spend your summer working for Miss Elizabeth?”

  “She won’t even come into town and she wants no one to know she’s out there and she’s kind of scary,” I said all in one breath.

  “Maybe we all should get to find out who she really is,” Grams said then shuffled over to the stove. “We’ll see.”

  Grams mentioned nothing more about it, but three weeks later Miss Elizabeth stood at Grams’ front door. She was tall and proud as she extended her hand, “I’m Miss Elizabeth Ann Parker.”

  The summer of my thirteenth year whizzed by working for Miss Elizabeth and while at first there seemed to be so much to do and so many instructions to be carefully followed by September we were fast friends. I cleaned that marvelous living room of hers and she taught me how to oil the furniture just right and turn the cushions. Opening the curtains in the morning and closing them early afternoon to keep the sun away from her fine furniture and paintings.

  We went into town every Monday to buy her groceries and she let me drive her old car when we were on the farm roads. I never told Grams that one. We even attended a few of the summer parties and the Fourth of July picnic in the park. The town people accepted her, too. It brought them some redemption.

  That was how it happened fifteen years ago. Miss Parker died while I was away at college. She left me the house and that good river bottom land. We live there now; me, Tommy, and our little girl, Elizabeth Ann.

  How could a 14-year-old girl end up facing herself and being pursued by a monster? Well, if she happens to cross through a portal into a parallel universe…

  THE GIRL WHO SLIPPED THROUGH THE MIRROR

  Kevin Singer

  Mina was afraid her father was lost. They’d driven along a darkened wooded road with no sign of life for what seemed like forever. The cabin should have been close, but there was nothing but hulking trees and swallowing blackness.

  Her father fumbled for the yellow paper wedged between the seat and console. He passed it to Mina beside him. “What do the directions say?”

  “Are we lost?” Reed clambered up from the back seat.

  “No,” Mina said. “We’re fine. Don’t worry.”

  She followed the scrawl of her father’s writing, retracing their path. “Did you make the left on County Road 772?”

  “About 20 minutes ago.”

  “Then a right on McGee Road?”

  “Yep. I think that’s what we’re on now.”

  “It says to stay on this road for five miles, then a left just past a boarded up white church. That’s his road.”

  “I hope this is right,” her father said. “Your mother gave me directions from her memory. It’s been years since we’ve been up here. I tried calling Tao for the last few days but no one answered.”

  Mina struggled for something to say. If her mother were here she would calm him no problem. But she wasn’t. She looked at the bracelet on her wrist–thin spun silver with rectangular blue stones the size of grains of rice. It was one her mother had worn when she was Mina’s age. The clasp had come loose; it always did. She secured it tight again.

  The cabin they were headed for belonged to Mina’s great uncle Tao. He lived alone in Manhattan but owned this weekend house tucked in the woods. Mina had only met him a few times. She remembered him as hunched and wrinkled with tired black eyes and skin that smelled vaguely of motor oil. The plan was that Mina, her little brother Reed and their father would spend the weekend. “You all spend too much time in the hospital,” her mother had said. “It’ll be good for you to get away.” Mina was secretly glad to leave, and that thought filled her with shame.

  They’d already been driving for three hours. After they left the highway the streetlights became fewer and fewer. The bait shops and diners and gas stations disappeared, as did the rambling farmhouses and their glinting silos. Darkness seeped in around them. The Honda’s high beams exposed a crush of forest on either side. Mina checked her phone. Only one bar, then none.

  “You’re doing great dad,” Mina said, hoping her father was not lost after all.

  “You’re doing great dad,” Reed mimicked in a sing-song voice.

  “Shut up.”

  “You shut up.”

  Reed glared at Mina. He was 11, three years younger than her, and at the age when everything he did seemed to be aimed at getting her mad. She fought the urge to reach back and pinch him hard.

  “Stop it, both of you.”

  “Sorry,” Mina said.

  Ahead Mina spied the church. Its windows were gaping holes. The front door swung partway open like a gasping mouth. On one side were black scorch marks. The steeple lay broken on the ground. Mina wondered who would ever want to live around here.

  “This is the road,” her father said.

  He turned onto a rutted dirt road and they bounced along on the Honda’s weary shocks. Darkness surrounded them. Mina gazed out the window at the black woods. She imagined a pack of gray wolves, saliva dripping from fangs, encircling them in the car. She had to close her eyes and let the imaginary monsters run away. Instead she thought of her mother. What was she doing now? Sleeping? Reading a book? “Don’t you worry about me, I’ll be fine,” her mother had told her before they left. “There are so many nurses, I’ll be lucky to get a moment to myself.” Mina still hadn’t gotten used to the sight of her mother without hair. The black pageboy wig only made it worse. She hoped it would grow back again.

  “Do you think there’ll be a swimming pool?” Reed asked.

  “You’re too much of a city kid,” their father said. His cheekbones rose as he cracked a smile, and it made Mina forget about the wolves and the hospital. “No pool, but there’s a lake.”

  “A lake? Yuck. It’s probably full of fish and monsters.”

  Mina kept silent but she agreed. Just the thought of something disgusting lurking beneath the surface, waiting to grab her with its tentacles and claws and pull her under, terrified her.

  The road curved, and a quarter mile ahead a house came into view. Light from the car drenched the house. Three stories tall, it sat huddled in a clearing of pine trees. Thick ruddy beams framed by wood-slat trim of a peeling, melted yellow ran across the house. Its cement base seemed to be sinking into the ground, while the third floor, with its tall-slanting gables, edged high as if trying to escape. Behind the house the lake glinted, flat and boundless.

  A single light shone from a gabled window on the top floor.

  “Is this where monsters live?” Reed asked as he climbed out of the car.

  “Only the nice ones,” their father said.

  “There are no nice monsters.”

  Mina stared at the lit window as she climbed out of the car. The autumn air gave her a chill, and she hugged her arms.

  “Come on and help me with the groceries,” their father said.

  The trio grabbed their backpacks and the sacks of groceries picked up along the way. Their father pulled the key from underneath the mat and unlocked the door. It creaked open.

  Mina expected it to reek of dust and dead mice but it was pine fresh with a hint of stale water. The foyer was about ten feet square with red walls and dark stained floors. A clock ticked on the wall. On either side of it hung two portraits–a man and a woman with milk-white skin–dressed in Revolutionary War-era clothes.

  “Looks like the old boy is keeping up the place,” her father muttered.

  They se
t down their backpacks and wandered with the groceries until they found the kitchen, bleached white with scratched butcher-block counters. A lone cup of tea steeped a dark brown sat on the counter. Mina touched the cup. It was cold.

  She inspected the counter for dirt but there was none. Her mother would probably scrub it down with bleach anyway. What was she doing right now? More sleep, she hoped. She remembered the time at the hospital when she eyed her mother’s chart while the doctor was lost in conversation. Norah Li. 42. Stage IV. Recurrent. Acute Myeloid Lymphoma. The words were alien to her. When she looked those words up on the Internet, she wished she had never peeked at the chart.

  The blue and silver glint of Mina’s bracelet caught her eye. She checked the clasp and felt calm again. She was about to unpack the groceries when she heard a distant clang.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  “Just your overactive imagination again, honey,” her father said. “Why don’t you kids go explore while I fix us some grub.”

  “Let me help,” Mina said.

  “No way, missy. Go have fun. That’s an order. You too, Reed. Be back down here in a half hour.”

  Mina wandered through the first floor. The dining room had a long dark table, twelve chairs and windows covered with green velvet drapes. In the living room was a floral couch, end tables and lamps with crystals hanging from the shades. The library had too many books to begin counting and a fireplace with an opening nearly large enough for her to fit inside. And there was a bedroom, spare with a metal-rail twin bed and a single scratched dresser, and no curtains. Mina peered out. Wisps of branches swayed in the wind. Despite the darkness, she was glad to be far away from the hospital.

  “This should be your room,” Reed said. “Because it’s ugly.”

  “Why are you here? Quit following me.”

  “You quit following me.”

  “How can I be following you if I’m always in front of you?”

  “Because you’re a freak and you’re reading my mind, so you know where I’m going.”

  “Don’t be silly. No one can read minds.”

  “That’s your problem. You don’t even try. You just do whatever people tell you. Come on, try and read my mind.”

  “No.”

  “Try.”

  “Okay.” She pretended to think hard. “You’re thinking about how you’re going to sneak outside and dig up some earthworms and leave them on my pillow.”

  “No but that’s a good idea. I was calling you a bad name.”

  “Stop it.”

  “I just did it again.”

  “Stop.”

  “And again. And again. And again.” Reed laughed, then he spun around and headed away in the opposite direction. “I’m going to find the basement. That’s where the monsters live I bet. I’ll make friends with them and send them to get you.”

  “Finally,” Mina whispered. “Thank God.”

  She climbed to the second floor. The stairs were covered with a fraying blue runner. The varnished railing was as cool as glass. At the top of the landing she put the lights on. There were pictures on the walls, much like the old-style portraits in the foyer. Animals forlorn in a pen. A man on his knees during a thunderstorm, hands raised to the heavens.

  She walked through the L-shaped hall and counted eight doors. She was about to open one when she spied the staircase to the top floor. It was narrow, with bare worn treads. She climbed.

  The stairs groaned with each step. The air grew colder as she rose. At the top was a door. She turned the handle. It opened, revealing a single, large room, larger than even her classroom at school. Tables stacked with jumbles of computer parts and machinery lined the edges of the room. On one end was a whiteboard with numbers and letters squiggled–nonsense, almost like a five year old would write. She inspected it, trying to decipher the random writing. Only one line stood out:

  Crossover portals theoretically infinite??

  At least it was English, but still, it made no sense to Mina.

  From the looks of the haphazard junk and abandoned contraptions, she guessed Great Uncle Tao had too much time on his hands. Was he a scientist? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that he was old. She picked up a metal spider web-like mesh panel. It glowed in the light of the dim bulb. She shook it, and it left rainbow fluorescent swirls in its wake. She shivered in the cold air and spun around to leave. She was about to step down the stairs when she heard three distinct knocks.

  Her heart pounded. Was Reed playing one of his usual pranks on her? But how could he have gotten up here without her seeing?

  Slowly she turned around and looked to where the knocking came from. At the far end of the room, half hidden behind a steel-ringed contraption, was a mirror. It wasn’t an ordinary mirror. It was as tall as her father, and wide too. It had a swirling metal frame and the dingy glass was pocked at the edges. It was suspended from the ceiling with a thick silver chain. Mina was certain that the knocking came from the mirror. She tiptoed closer, waiting for Reed to jump out from behind it and scream.

  “Reed, I know you’re here, so just come out.”

  She tiptoed closer.

  “Reed, I’m serious. Quit being a jerk.”

  She was at the mirror now. It was suspended six inches off the ground. Her heart thudded as she bent down to look underneath. No feet. She climbed back up. She was sure she’d heard the knocks. Her heart kept on pounding. She poked her head around the backside of the mirror. Nothing except wood beams.

  She tried to convince herself it was all in her head. Just as she turned away she heard the knock again. She froze. Slowly she pivoted back. What she saw in the mirror made her gasp.

  The girl in the mirror was her, but it wasn’t her. The girl in the mirror wore a white shirt and black skirt, while she wore jeans and a t-shirt. The girl in the mirror had hair cut in a bob just below her chin, while her own hair hung free past her shoulders. And the girl in the mirror wore burgundy lipstick.

  Mina struggled to make sense of it. Was she dreaming? Hallucinating? Then the other Mina waved. Mina stumbled back. She had to remind herself to breathe. Slowly she raised a hand and shook a tiny wave. The other Mina smiled. Then she beckoned her forward.

  Mina touched the glass. It was cool and hard, and then it turned pillow soft. She gasped and pulled her hand back. The other Mina laughed and beckoned again.

  The second time Mina touched the mirror the glass rippled. She pushed her fingertips into the mirror. It was some sort of pliable membrane, cold and squishy. She pulled back.

  The other Mina mouthed words and smiled warmly, a smile so like her own, then beckoned again. Mina thought of her father and brother downstairs. She looked toward the staircase. Then she turned back and she slipped through the mirror.

  Crossing over felt like plunging into ice water. It felt like her body was taken apart and put back together again in an instant. Once on the other side she took a breath and blinked.

  The room was not the same. Instead of mangled computers and metal-heavy contraptions there were boxes, crates, dusty suitcases, the smell of old paper and closed up windows. Nothing looked familiar. The other Mina took her hand, and the solidness brought Mina fully into her reality.

  “You’re me, aren’t you?” Mina asked.

  She shook her head and laughed, the edges of her cropped hair hitting the corners of her eyes. “No, I’m me.”

  “Mina.”

  “Yeah, well everyone calls me M1.”

  “That’s strange. Why?”

  “M for Mina, and because I’m number 1.” M1 smirked. Mina wondered if she looked like that–as if she ruled the entire universe–when she smirked. She couldn’t help but stare at this girl, M1, or whatever she called herself. It was like looking at another world of possibilities.

  M1 snapped her fingers. “Hate to be a buzzkill, sweetie, but we can’t stay here staring at each other forever.”

  Mina blushed and gazed at her feet. “I was only…”

  “Don’t wor
ry.” M1 put her hand on her hip. “Jeez, don’t you have any questions? You act like this is no big deal.”

  “Of course. I mean, where are we?”

  “Uncle Tao’s house, silly.”

  “I know. I was there already.” She pointed to the mirror. She peered in it. She saw the room where she came from. Then the image faded, and all she saw were two girls who could be twins.

  “And now you’re here.”

  “No, I was there already. This can’t be Tao’s house.”

  “It is.”

  “How can there be two of them?”

  “Do I look like a scientist?”

  “No, you look like a stuck-up cheerleader.”

  M1 rolled her eyes. “Okay, here’s the story. I was at Tao’s house with my parents and Reed.”

  “Your parents? Both of them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your mom–she’s fine?”

  “If by fine you mean annoying and always getting on me about my clothes, then yes.”

  Mina had to shut her eyes for a moment. There was another place where her mother wasn’t sick. “You’re lucky.”

  M1 fluttered her hand. “Whatever. Anyway, I was there. I wanted to be alone. Me and Tyler had a fight before I left.”

  “Who is Tyler?”

  “My boyfriend.”

  “You’re allowed to have a boyfriend?”

  M1 rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I was up there and I was mad, and I walked up to the mirror and punched it. My fist went through. So now here I am.”

  “So this isn’t your real house?” A bellowing groan echoed from somewhere in the house. Mina jumped. “What was that noise?”

  “The reason why I brought you here.” M1 grabbed Mina’s hand and pulled her close. “Come on. We’ve got to go. Now.”

  They ran down the narrow staircase onto the second floor landing. It seemed the same as the house she left, until they turned a corner. The hallway twisted and they passed the staircase leading back up to the attic. “Wait, didn’t we…”