Mirrors

Chapter One

I never fit in. People would always try to include me, but it was obvious I was the odd one out. I was the loud one; the ugly one; the stupid one. I suppose that's why I resorted to seclusion-- and books. My mom always worried about me. She'd always ask why I wasn't going out on Fridays. Why should I? Nothing interested me anymore. She thinks I'm depressed, but I'm not. I'm perfectly content without friends. The characters in my books are my friends.

It was a Wednesday when things started to seem off. I remember because my mom got tacos, as she always does on Wednesdays. Whenever I looked into mirrors, I always felt like I saw someone else in the reflection. I couldn't ever see anyone, but I felt them there. I'd tell my mom, but that would give her another reason to put me in a mental hospital. Instead, I would force myself to ignore the sense.

But, this story does not start with mirrors or friends or lack of so. This story starts with a book club. My mom signed me up without my consent because she thought it was good compromise for the two of us. During this book club, I saw him for the first time.

We were sitting in the dingy basement of our seventy-some-odd-year-old club organizer's basement. I made my mom get there early so I could sit in the only cushioned chair in the room; a constant prize in the club. I had zoned out of our "intense" conversation about the ever-so-dreamy boy in our book. My eyes made their way to a mirror in the room, as they always seem to instinctively do, and this time, my feelings did not trick me.

I saw him.

I gasped at his presence, which caused the girl sitting to my right give me a disgusted glare, but I ignored it. I kept staring at the boy in the mirror. He did not look angry or evil or demonic; he looked scared. But, before I had a chance to observe him further, he disappeared. I glanced around the room, but he wasn't anywhere, only in the mirror. Even then, he wasn't there either.

"Lia?" The club lady, Mabel or Mattie or Kagle or whatever her name may be, snapped me out of my trance with her shrill voice. "Perhaps you would like to share your opinion on this boy? You're awfully quiet." I swallowed heavily.

"I, uh, I..." I started to pull at my shirt, "he's... Cool." Some of the girls chuckled, and I felt warmth in my cheeks. What's-her-name nodded her wrinkly little head.

"He's quite a charmer, huh?" I nodded, as well as several others. "Alright, girls, well, let's wrap this up and read to chapter thirty for next week."

I stood up much faster than the rest of the girls, took one last glance at the mirror, and darted out of the basement.

That night I didn't sleep. I stared nonstop at my mirror. I wasn't afraid; I was curious. I had to know who he was, why he was scared, why the hell was he in a mirror? Unfortunately, my needs were not fulfilled that night. Though the feeling of his presence still sat in my stomach, he never made an appearance.

Over the next few days, I became obsessed. Everywhere I went, my eyes stayed focused on mirrors; any reflection for that matter. But the boy never reappeared. I began to dream about him, though every night he looked different. One night he looked broad and blonde, another night he was scrawny and blue eyed. He never spoke, he only screamed. Well, he made the expression of a scream. I never heard him, and no matter how loudly I yelled at him, he never seemed to hear me.

* * *

"Lia, honey, you should eat," my mother said, sounding more like a command than a suggestion. I shrugged as a way of saying, "piss off," but instead I replied, "not hungry."

"Lia, you haven't eaten in three days, I'm beginning to worry. You're not fat, honey, you don't need to-"

"Mom, I'm not starving myself, seriously. I just haven't been very hungry." Which is true; though I do find myself overweight, I'm not starving myself. I guess obsessions make you forget about food.