The Boy in the Looking Glass

"It's closing time, Lolly."

The young brunette jumped six inches off her beanbag chair, blinking her large, impetuous green eyes at the older man who'd addressed her. He smiled down warmly over his silver wire eyeglass frames, his crows feet crinkling around his sparkling blue orbs. Lolly's eyes darted around the room in a bit of a daze, soaking in the countless low, oak shelves surrounding her. Her slightly sweaty fingers still gripped the lemon yellow hardcover book in her mitts tightly, as her subconscious mind wasn't yet ready to let go of Nancy, George, and Bess's adventures. From outside, the five low, dismal bongs of the county courthouse's clock next door reminded her of the hour.

"Sorry, Mr. Pinkerton," she mumbled, her face glowing sheepishly, as she stood up from her squashy red seat. Even at her full height, the top of her head barely reached Mr. Pinkerton's ribcage. It was no wonder why so many people treated her like a little kid; she was a head shorter than all the other girls in her sixth-grade glass, and still carried most of her baby fat. Mr. Pinkerton never treated her so, however... probably because he knew her better than most other grown-ups, due to the many, many hours she'd spent devouring books in his shop.

As she reluctantly closed her book and readied to shelve it, Mr. Pinkerton laid a large, bony hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you take it with you?" he offered with a friendly wink. "Knowing you, you'll be finished with it before morning anyway... and I won't miss it for one night."

Lolly's eyes widened in awe, drawing the book to her chest on instinct. "Really?! Wow... thanks, Mr. P! You're the best! I promise, I'll take good care of it."

Mr. Pinkerton chortled softly, making his Adam's apple juggle above his polka-dotted bowtie. "I'm sure you will, Lolly. You'd better scoot now, or you'll be late for supper." He escorted her to the door, leaving her with a final wave while she unlocked her bike from the rack. "See you tomorrow, and say hello to your mother for me!"

Lolly pedaled faster than she ever had in her life, eager to get home. The book in her backpack banged lightly against her spine as she zipped over the asphalt, reminding her of its presence. It was all she could do not to stop on the street corner and pull it out, just to read a few more pages of it. Still, she thought better of it; stopping in the middle of the sidewalk wasn't a good idea, and she was late enough as it was. The last thing she wanted was to make her mother angry... again.

As she skidded to a stop in front of their bungalow, her mother was already waiting for her just beyond the open garage door. Based on the sour, disappointed frown on the slim blonde's pretty face, Lolly knew in an instant she was in trouble.

"Lorelei Beatrice Gardenia, it is almost five-thirty!" Her mother's green eyes flashed dangerously down at her. Lolly's baby brother - Georgie - squirmed and fussed on her hip, clearly adding to her mother's frustration. "You were supposed to be home an hour ago," she added sharply, adjusting Georgie's weight before he slipped off her narrow hip. "Now, I'm late to the PTA meeting, again. Where were you, anyway?!"

Lolly's hands tightened on her backpack straps, and her eyes wandered to the stained cement under her ratty sneakers. "Um... at Paulina's. I'm sorry, Mom; it won't happen again, I swear."

Her mother's expression softened with a heavy sigh, and she carefully lowered the thirteen-month-old into Lolly's arms. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Baby. We'll talk about this later, okay? Make sure Georgie gets to bed by seven, and I expect you to turn in by nine. I'll be back around eleven; dinner's in the microwave, no TV until you finish your homework." She pressed a quick kiss onto both her children's faces before hurrying to the car.

Lolly wiped her cheek off with a grimace, glancing at the waxy red stain on her knuckles, then studied the fitted black dress her mother was wearing. "Aren't you a little overdressed for a PTA meeting?" she asked. "I mean, the heels and diamonds are a bit much."

For just a second, Lolly's mother paused with a hand on her necklace before sliding into the driver's seat with a short, frustrated huff. "Lolly, this isn't the time... and I don't appreciate your tone, Young Lady! Just look after Georgie and don't ask questions. And don't forget to lock the door!"

Lolly stayed in the garage as her mother peeled out, glowering at the taillights until they vanished around the bend. "You should know better than to lie to me, Connie," she muttered, then groaned as Georgie's fist grazed her ear. "Cut it out, Squirt! Ugh... why do I always get stuck with you?! It's not fair!" She was still grumbling to herself as she stomped indoors with her squalling brother in her arms.

Georgie fussed and fought with her over everything for the next few hours: he wouldn't lie still on the changing table, he howled and threw his teething toys at her when she tried to wrestle him into his pajamas, and he wouldn't go so sleep no matter how many lullabies she sang to him. Eventually he tired himself out with all his fussing, finally dropping off to sleep around seven-thirty. After tiptoeing out of his room, Lolly was at last free to eat her supper and finish her book.

While she was on the final chapter, a loud scree-KRASH from outside sent her heart into her brain. For a moment, she just stayed frozen in place on her bed, then - when her curiosity got the better of her - she crept to her window. Peering through her lace curtains onto the darkened street, she saw an old-timey car on the side of the road; an old blue Roadster, just like Nancy Drew's. The front end was crumpled up like an empty soda can, spewing steam from where it was wrapped around the streetlamp. The windshield reminded Lolly of Old Lady Crew's skating pond in winter, covered in deep cracks and thin, spider-webby fissures. Her sharp eyes noticed that the passenger door was hanging open, but as far as she could tell the seat was empty. The same could not be said for the driver's seat.

Operating fully on instinct, Lolly grabbed her backpack and raced outside. The wreck looked a lot worse close up, with the car's shiny blue metal all twisted and bent and glass absolutely everywhere. Lolly gulped at the driver, still slumped forward over the wheel, motionless. With shaking hands, she pulled a small flashlight from her bag and turned it on, aiming the beam at the driver.

A woman was behind the wheel, but Lolly couldn't see her face. Her shoulder-length auburn hair covered it like a satin curtain, along with most of the steering wheel. Lolly was honestly glad that she couldn't see it, and chose instead to look at the rest of the woman. The driver seemed to be fairly young - either in her late teens or early twenties - but the clothes she had on belonged to an old lady: a blue and grey plaid knee-length skirt, a white cotton blouse with a peter pan collar, a blue wool sweater, and silk stockings with dark brown penny loafers. Blood dripped from her French manicured fingertips, originating from a round, dark red blotch on her right shoulder.

A white patent leather purse lay in the floorboards of the passenger seat, its contents strewn everywhere. It didn't look like it had fallen over in the crash, though. Lolly noticed right away that the clasp and strap were both broken, like someone tried to snatch it from the woman while she was driving. Among the plain black compact and tube of lipstick was a matching wallet - covered in sticky red smears - a small black billfold, and a wooden puzzle box. Although she was immediately drawn to the box, Lolly reached for the wallet instead. When the police arrived - as one of the neighbors had already undoubtedly reported the accident - it would help them to know who the woman was.

Before Lolly's fingers could wrap around the wallet, a hand grabbed her wrist sharply. Lolly cried out in shock and tried to pull away, not realizing at first that it was the woman who'd grabbed her. A startlingly blue eye stared at Lolly through the woman's glossy mane, unfocused and glassy from pain. "S-Stop..." she gurgled. "Stop him... He... He mustn't..."

Lolly swallowed dryly, nervously patting the woman's cold, clammy hand. "I-It's okay; the police are coming... I think. A-Are you hurt bad? Can you tell me your name?"

The woman groaned and coughed, trying to sit up even though it was clear she couldn't. Eventually she gave up, and instead grabbed the puzzle box from the floorboards. "Find... D-Dorian," she mumbled, pressing the box into Lolly's hands. "T-The Looking Glass... It's..." She coughed again, her whole body shaking, then touched the locket hanging from her neck weakly. "N-Ned... I'm sorry... I... I tried..." With a heavy sigh, she grew still once more.

Lolly's eyes filled with panicked tears, but she didn't move. She was rooted to the spot with fright, not sure what to do. The poor woman was badly hurt; Lolly couldn't even tell if she was still breathing. It was clear she needed help, and fast. The police department was only a few blocks away, so they should've arrived by now. When Lolly's legs finally decided to start working again, she tucked the puzzle box into her backpack and ran to get help. After traveling a block and a half, she ran - literally - into an officer on patrol. Luckily, it was Officer Kirkland: a good friend of her mother's.

After breathlessly explaining what happened, Lolly dragged the confused cop by the hand to the scene of the accident. The only problem was that when they got there, the car and its injured driver were gone. There wasn't even a fragment of glass or a paint chip to be seen, and nary a dent on the streetlight. "B-But... But it was right-... I don't understand!" Lolly looked up at Officer Kirkland, pleading. "You gotta believe me!"

Instead of saying a word to Lolly, Officer Kirkland sighed and steered her toward her house by the upper arm. He made her sit on the couch while he called her mother from the landline, then stayed with Lolly until her mother came home.

"Lolly?!" Connie cried breathlessly as she raced through the front door. "Joe, what's going on?! Is Georgie-?!"

"Georgie's fine," Officer Kirkland assured her, his glittering black eyes settling on Lolly darkly. "...but I think you should have a talk with this one."

After listening patiently to Officer Kirkland's story, Connie apologized thoroughly and thanked him for his time. She stayed quiet until the officer left, then turned her steely gaze to her daughter. "Lolly, why would you make up a story like this?! You know better than to lie to the police! And what were you doing running around in the street at night?!"

Lolly crossed her arms angrily. "I wasn't making it up! There was a car crash, right outside! I talked to the lady inside it!" Struck with inspiration, Lolly rummaged through her backpack to find the puzzle box. It was still there, so she pulled it out to show her mother triumphantly. "She gave me this," Lolly insisted. "She said something about a guy named Dorian, and a looking glass!"

Connie stared at her daughter as if there were earthworms coming out of her ears. With a shake of her head and a sigh, she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Lolly, enough: I swear, you get this from your father. Just... go to bed. It's late, and you have school in the morning. I can't deal with this right now."

Lolly hopped off the couch, fuming at her mother. This wasn't the first time she'd done something that earned such a comment. Before long, the words "you're just like your father" had lost all meaning for Lolly. It was hard to identify with a person she'd never met after all. Before she left the living room, Lolly took a second to study her mother. Connie's lipstick was all but rubbed off; there was a fresh little bruise forming on the side of her neck, too, and her dress was on inside out. "Hope your 'PTA meeting' was worth abandoning us for the night," Lolly snapped.

Connie's eyes flashed at her daughter, but she held her temper relatively well. "Lorelei Beatrice Gardenia, do not try me! Go. To. Bed. Now!!"

With one last withering scowl, Lolly turned on her heel and stomped off upstairs. She didn't even care that her stomping woke her little brother; Connie could deal with the insufferable little drool factory. He was her mistake, after all. After slamming her door for good measure, Lolly flopped on her bed with the puzzle box still in her hands. She turned it over in her fingers several time while she lay there stewing, wondering for a moment if the crash really had happened or not. The puzzle box was real enough, as were the faint rust-colored stains on the back of her wrist. There was no way that hadn't been real. But, if it was, what happened to the car and the woman inside it?

Lolly blinked as a sharp click startled her from her deep thoughts. One of the ornate wooden birds carved into the side of the box suddenly sank in under her left pinky finger. When it did, a flower carved on the opposite side popped out against her right thumb. Pushing on it caused another click, after which she discovered the top was loose. A few more twists, turns, pushes, and clicks later, the bottom of the box dropped open. A heavy, flat, circular object the size of her palm dropped into her lap from it, which she quickly picked up to get a better look at.

It was a mirror, small but very heavy for its size. Gold filigree ran all around the edge, depicting rabbits, birds, bears, and even people. In fact, the more she looked at it, the more the carvings seemed to change... almost as if the figures were shape-shifting right before her eyes. When she turned it over, she discovered a set of strange words carved into the plain black backing:

"Fenestella a phantasia ad rem"

Lolly's fingers ran lightly over the words, which sparkled under her touch like spun gold. She turned the mirror back over slowly, but instead of her face she saw a large, stormy grey eyeball staring back at her. Immediately she dropped the mirror, covering it with a pillow in fright. After a few minutes, she peeked under the corner of her pillow to look at the mirror again. This time, her own round, freckly face looked at her from its silvery surface. Her mind still racing a mile a minute, she hid the mirror in her nightstand drawer face down. It was getting very late, and she needed to sleep, but she couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened that night.

She'd finally managed to drift off around two in the morning, when her nightstand shook violently beside her bed. Lolly sat bolt upright with a cry of fear and confusion, just in time to watch her drawer sail across the room and land on the floor. Her jaw dropped open and her eyes bulged as a long, skinny hand emerged from the mirror within it. An arm came next, followed by a shoulder and eventually a head. Before she knew it, a tall boy not much older than her was standing in her room. He shook the dust off his brown gingham trenchcoat as he stared at her, studying her every move. He wasn't exactly handsome but striking in a way, with his long, narrow face, large, hooked nose, and incredibly piercing grey eyes. He ran his fingers through his wavy black locks, then reached into his vest pocket with a severe frown. "Lorelei Gardenia?"

Lolly made a face at hearing her full name, which she'd never liked. Still, it sounded almost pretty when she heard it in the boy's high, soft British voice. "Um... yes?" she squeaked nervously. "Who the heck are you?"

With a flourish, the boy pulled out a small black billfold with a shiny brass shield pinned to it. "My name is Sherlock," he said matter-of-factly. "I'm a detective... and my world is in dire need of your help."