up the stairs now.”
Cory sighed and touched glass. His hand pushed through what looked and felt like gelatinized water.
“Easy as pie. If she asks why you’re in here again, tell her the other bathroom was being used and that you couldn’t wait.”
“Okay. Thanks for the ice cream.”
“Not so lonely anymore?”
“No, sir.”
“Good boy. Come back soon.”
Cory almost fell through the sticky substance of the mirror, crawling hands-forward across his parents’ bathroom counter. He thudded to the floor just as his mother’s footsteps reached the doorway of the spare bedroom.
* * *
“Cory? Are you in here?”
“I’m just finishing up on the toilet.” He quickly undid his belt, flushed the water in the bowl, and edged towards the bathroom doorway. His mother inched into the room.
“What are you doing in this bathroom again?”
Cory felt his face flush. “Chris or Cole was in the other one and I had to pee.”
He saw his mother let her breath out. “I’d rather you not come into this room.”
“It’s just a room,” he said. “I needed to go badly.” He heard Chris and Cole’s movie playing along the hallway and prayed that one of them had used the other bathroom recently, otherwise he wouldn’t be sure what to say. He wanted to tell his mother about Jeffrey and his family, but something made him hold back.
“What’s that on your face?” she asked. She wiped his cheek with one finger and he saw a bit of reddish-pink liquid on her fingertip.
“Candy,” he lied. “I was just eating some of my candy.”
“Sticky-faced kid,” his mother laughed. “Smells like strawberry. Hang on.” She returned to the spare bathroom and paused, looking around.
“What?” he asked her. “I flushed.”
“I know,” she said. He saw her move back to the bathroom and look at the mirror. His heart sank. What would she do if she saw Jeffrey standing on the other side?
“I don’t like that mirror,” she said. “I usually like antiques, but I don’t care for that one. Your father and I will look for a new one next week. There’s just something about it…”
He felt a teary sense of panic come into his throat.
“I like it,” he said.
“Well, I don’t. It’s too old, filmy, and frankly, a little creepy.” She ushered him along the corridor. “You don’t want to watch the movie with them?”
He shook his head.
“Then come back outside with Dad and I. We’re roasting marshmallows.”
They walked towards the top of the stairwell. As they started down, his mother ahead of him, Cory glanced at his bedroom. Jeffrey stood inside the doorway, watching him. He winked and put his finger up to his lips.
“You did good, Cory,” he mouthed silently. “She’s not ready yet.” Jeffrey slid back behind the wall. Cory paused. Was the guy going to be waiting for him in his room when he came back?
His mother heard him stop and looked around. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Come enjoy some marshmallows and the campfire.”
His father pushed marshmallows onto the end of a long wooden skewer and nodded for Cory to sit near the campfire. Cory took a seat, his thoughts scattered. Things at Jeffrey’s house still didn’t make sense to him. But he understood that adults held more answers than kids did and that Jeffrey or one of the others would eventually explain how solid mirrors could turn soft like putty and how they could live in a house whose entrance Cory could not see except in the bathroom mirror. He sat woefully, aware that his parents watched him, their eyebrows raised to each other over his sullen mood.
Chapter 18
The doorbell rang the next morning. Chris answered the call, wearing a pair of baggy pajama bottoms and a loose rugby t-shirt. He saw a skinny adolescent girl who stood a foot shorter than him, looking up at him from the front step.
“Is Cory here?” she asked.
“Yeah. He’s up in his room. Go right on up the stairs and turn to your right. It’s the first
Cory sighed and touched glass. His hand pushed through what looked and felt like gelatinized water.
“Easy as pie. If she asks why you’re in here again, tell her the other bathroom was being used and that you couldn’t wait.”
“Okay. Thanks for the ice cream.”
“Not so lonely anymore?”
“No, sir.”
“Good boy. Come back soon.”
Cory almost fell through the sticky substance of the mirror, crawling hands-forward across his parents’ bathroom counter. He thudded to the floor just as his mother’s footsteps reached the doorway of the spare bedroom.
* * *
“Cory? Are you in here?”
“I’m just finishing up on the toilet.” He quickly undid his belt, flushed the water in the bowl, and edged towards the bathroom doorway. His mother inched into the room.
“What are you doing in this bathroom again?”
Cory felt his face flush. “Chris or Cole was in the other one and I had to pee.”
He saw his mother let her breath out. “I’d rather you not come into this room.”
“It’s just a room,” he said. “I needed to go badly.” He heard Chris and Cole’s movie playing along the hallway and prayed that one of them had used the other bathroom recently, otherwise he wouldn’t be sure what to say. He wanted to tell his mother about Jeffrey and his family, but something made him hold back.
“What’s that on your face?” she asked. She wiped his cheek with one finger and he saw a bit of reddish-pink liquid on her fingertip.
“Candy,” he lied. “I was just eating some of my candy.”
“Sticky-faced kid,” his mother laughed. “Smells like strawberry. Hang on.” She returned to the spare bathroom and paused, looking around.
“What?” he asked her. “I flushed.”
“I know,” she said. He saw her move back to the bathroom and look at the mirror. His heart sank. What would she do if she saw Jeffrey standing on the other side?
“I don’t like that mirror,” she said. “I usually like antiques, but I don’t care for that one. Your father and I will look for a new one next week. There’s just something about it…”
He felt a teary sense of panic come into his throat.
“I like it,” he said.
“Well, I don’t. It’s too old, filmy, and frankly, a little creepy.” She ushered him along the corridor. “You don’t want to watch the movie with them?”
He shook his head.
“Then come back outside with Dad and I. We’re roasting marshmallows.”
They walked towards the top of the stairwell. As they started down, his mother ahead of him, Cory glanced at his bedroom. Jeffrey stood inside the doorway, watching him. He winked and put his finger up to his lips.
“You did good, Cory,” he mouthed silently. “She’s not ready yet.” Jeffrey slid back behind the wall. Cory paused. Was the guy going to be waiting for him in his room when he came back?
His mother heard him stop and looked around. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Come enjoy some marshmallows and the campfire.”
His father pushed marshmallows onto the end of a long wooden skewer and nodded for Cory to sit near the campfire. Cory took a seat, his thoughts scattered. Things at Jeffrey’s house still didn’t make sense to him. But he understood that adults held more answers than kids did and that Jeffrey or one of the others would eventually explain how solid mirrors could turn soft like putty and how they could live in a house whose entrance Cory could not see except in the bathroom mirror. He sat woefully, aware that his parents watched him, their eyebrows raised to each other over his sullen mood.
Chapter 18
The doorbell rang the next morning. Chris answered the call, wearing a pair of baggy pajama bottoms and a loose rugby t-shirt. He saw a skinny adolescent girl who stood a foot shorter than him, looking up at him from the front step.
“Is Cory here?” she asked.
“Yeah. He’s up in his room. Go right on up the stairs and turn to your right. It’s the first
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