Delaney Blake's Guide to Detention

Step #8: Leave The World As You Know It

"No!" I shout.

They don't stop. Mirror me winks, then vanishes, slipping through the surface like it is a pond and they are going for a swim. Except, the pond is vertical and there is no sign of them once they break the surface.

I don't think, I just do. Part of my brain very much wants to panic. Jumping through glass is a very bad idea. Do I not remember the last time I smashed glass? It was only yesterday and it was not a good time.

This whole thought process is not enough. It's not even enough to stop me from leaping headfirst toward the cabinet. In mid-air, I brace for a head injury. A concussion. The smash of broken everything around me.

Instead, the sensation is so bizarre, like swan diving through thin air. Like hitting water, but not getting wet. Not anything. Like the sensation for falling in a dream.

It ends abruptly and I hit a floor, momentum propelling me straight into a harder counter.

I roll into a ball, holding myself tight for a moment until another soft body tumbles right into me.

"Whoa," is all Milo says, getting a much softer landing broken by me and not the handles of the counter cupboards digging into his back.

The two of us rise slowly, using our extraordinary entry as an excuse for why we stare so blankly around us.

It's the science lab, but it's not. There is something off about it. There is an identical star of bunsen burners arranged on the counters, but it's cleaner. It looks... used. The thing that is off-putting about this science lab is that it isn't off-putting at all. It feels like a normal classroom, not one abandoned because the teacher responsible for it got hauled off by the cops. It's in the way equipment is arranged at the edge of the classroom, neatly in rows of pipettes and labeled chemical compounds.

Is this still Ms. Isaakov's classroom?

"Where are we?" Milo asks, even though I know just about as much as him right now.

"I think... we went through," I say, twisting to study the glass behind us. I touch it, reaching out like it might bite me. If I put my hand through here, does it appear on the other side?

I don't find out. The glass is solid at my touch. There is a secret to it and mirror me knows it, but I do not.

A sicker thought hits me.

That means we can't get back.

A shiver runs straight up my spine, but I don't share this thought with Milo. I don't need to. He's right there watching, and without talking about it, we both know what this means.

It also means there is nothing to do except find Emma.

"Let's go," I say. I pretend I know what I'm doing. This is the world through the glass. If this is the world of my reflection, what is different between me and mirror me? If Ms. Isaakov's classroom is still in operation, what else is different here?

"Delaney," Milo says, "why do you think she took Emma?"

I walk so I don't have to talk right away. Moving is an excuse not to admit that the thought hasn't had time to cross my mind. Why take Emma? Because she was there? Because we left her standing guard and Emma is too sweet? Too nice?

"She had the book," Milo says.

I keep walking, pushing through the slightly ajar door. It doesn't squeak. This bothers me a lot more than I thought a non-squeaky door would. I suddenly long for the horror movie sound effect it made.

Like in our world, mirror world is quiet. Eerily quiet. Even the lights seem to buzz at a different frequency. It hurts my head. Everything is off just a little bit, in ways I can't even fully explain, but I know that they are. Like everything is shifted slightly to the left of where I'm used to it.