Show Me True

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn’t my own. The reflection and I sighed together with relief. The man-bun in the image bobbed, the mouth quirked above a stubbly chin, the bloodshot blue eyes blinked in time to my hazel ones.

Ignoring Staci, I walked around the circle of six teens sprawled on the dusty attic floor, and handed the mirror to Bodhi, to whom the reflection belonged.

“Dude!” he said, accepting the mirror without hesitaiton. “I knew I was wasted last night, but I didn’t know I pissed myself.” He said this proudly, as if discovering that he had written a sonnet while inebriated. Who was I kidding – Bodhi probably didn’t even know what a sonnet was. The idiot probably couldn’t even write a limerick.

On cue, the group chanted in unison: “Secret Keeper, show us true!”

Bodhi looked with amused expectation into the mirror. It was notebook-sized, with a rough wooden frame and plain wooden cover attached by leather hinges. He held it up to display to the circle like he was showing off a trophy.

The glass rippled from his reflection to a frozen image of Bodhi passed out on his bed, shirtless, a large dark blot spread over the crotch of his jeans. His friends regaled him with fistbumps and ribald commentary.

I was thankful for the diversion in the group’s attention. They had moved on from my humiliation – but I hadn’t. I kept revisiting the past few minutes in my mind.

“Mirror mirror, Secret Keeper, have no mercy, show us true,” Staci had intoned, standing in the center of the circle, one hand resting on the covered mirror. Eight years of dodging Staci's torments had taught me to recognize that particular glint in her eye. It presaged what I called a “meanie moment”--a display of her pathological need to elevate herself at the expense of others.

After a theatrical pause, Staci had asked the mirror, ”Who here is the last person who peed their pants?”

At this point in the Mirror Game, the questioner had to guess whose face would be revealed in response to their inquiry. Staci had pointed right at me, as the room erupted in derisive laughter.

Since I had been trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible, I had gaped at her. “Me?” I couldn’t stop myself from blushing.

“Yes, you, Bernadine.” I really wish our homeroom teacher hadn’t called me by my full name on the first day of school, instead of my preferred “Dina.” Now I couldn’t get away from it. “In fact,” Staci had continued, playing for more laughs, “I think you peed yourself tonight when you got here.”

She must have seen the look on my face when I first poked my head over the top of the rickety ladder and saw the dusty, cobwebby attic where I had been brought to play the Mirror Game. The room could have doubled as a horror movie set.

Then Staci had handed the mirror to me with a predatory smile. “Afraid to open the Secret Keeper?”

Why should I be afraid? I had chided myself. I knew my panties were dry. But I didn’t trust Staci, or anyone else in the room, for that matter. I didn’t trust the game. I didn’t trust a mirror that supposedly knew all our secrets. If it was all a gimmick–which of course it had to be–I hated being taken for a rube. But if not …

Yet the mirror had indeed shown true, at least that time, and had answered her ridiculous question with Bodhi’s equally ridiculous reflection. After I handed him the mirror, I scooted back to my spot in the circle.

“Drink, drink,” the others were now chanting. In this inane game, the person who appeared in the reflection had to down a cup of beer from the keg they had hauled up into the attic. Bodhi was all too willing to comply. If he kept it up, I mused, he was on track to repeat his urinary mishap.

Since Staci had guessed wrong whose reflection would appear in answer to her question, she also had to drain her cup.

My plastic cup sat on the floor in front of me, untouched after an hour of the Mirror Game. Beer tastes disgusting, even when not seasoned with dust and attic bugs. I picked a splinter out of my jeans, and for the ten-to-the-tenth-power time this night, I wondered what I was doing here.

*

It had started right after school, as I was hoisting my backpack for the walk home. Riley – the least mean member of the mean girl set, on a scale from 1 to Staci – had approached me.

“Hey, Dina, you’re smart and everything,” she had said in a wheedly way. “Can you come over later and help me with my history project?”

I considered this unexpected request. I had no illusions–or ambitions–of being invited into the sanctum of popularity, but I had to weigh this against the consequences of turning her down. I had another year and a half of high school to swim with these sharks.

She handed me a slip of paper with her address. “I’ll need bus fare,” I said. “You live pretty far from me.”

“No problem,” she said, fishing a $20 bill out of her purse. “See you at 7:00?”

It was a long walk from the bus stop to her impeccably manicured lawn and massive house. Riley answered the door with a wide grin, as if actually glad to see me.

“Mom, Dad,” she called loudly, “Dina’s here to help me with my project. We’re going to study in the rec room.” She led me down a flight of stairs to a large, comfortable room stuffed with entertainment options. It seemed a very distracting setting for study.

Then I noticed Cody and Brianna sitting on the couch. They were the prince and princess of the school, perfect for one another as only two rich, gorgeous, narcissistic people can be.

“Finally!” snapped Brianna. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” I asked.

Riley turned to me. “I need you to tell my parents that we’re going to the library to work on our project.”

“And … I take it you’re not going to the library.” I was still confused. “So why don’t you just lie to them yourself?”

Brianna snorted. “Because she’s grounded, dummy. But her parents will believe you.”

“I’m not going to lie to them.”

Brianna looked like she wanted to slap me. Riley said placatingly, “We’re going to one of my dad’s old rental properties. So in a way, it’s like I’m still in my dad’s house, right?”

Cody caught my eye, flashed his dentist’s-model smile at me and said, “Please, Dina?”

I sighed, then went upstairs with Riley. Her parents were watching something on a wall-sized flat screen. I chose my words carefully, “It would be good for Riley to go to the library to work on her history project.”

Riley’s mom swirled her wine glass. “Well, if you say so, Dana.”

Dina, I silently corrected her.

“She’s big time grounded, you know, so keep an eye on her.” Riley’s dad didn’t look away from the screen.

As we peeled away in Brianna’s car, Riley stuck her head out the window and yelled, “Freedom!”

I tapped Brianna on the shoulder. “Will you at least drop me off near a bus stop?”

“Crap!” Cody said suddenly, looking at his phone. “Adam just got arrested.”

Brianna laughed. “What’d he do this time?”

“Swiped his dad’s car and got pulled over on his way to the attic. His dad told him the next time he drove without a license he wouldn’t bail him out.” Cody counted on his fingers. “Now we’re one short for the game.”

“We could text Drey?” Riley suggested.

“He just broke up with Staci,” Brianna countered. “If he goes, she won’t.”

“That would be fine with me,” I heard Cody mumble.

Riley argued, “You know it won’t work unless we have seven people.”

That’s when Cody swiveled in the front seat and looked at me. “We could bring Dina.”

Brianna gave a loud snort. “Seriously? Dina?”

“Why not?” Cody smiled at me. “It would be fun.” Fun for whom? I thought.

Brianna tapped the steering wheel, then shrugged..

“So, Dina, how about it?” Cody asked. “You want to come play the Mirror Game with us? It would really help us out.”

I had no idea what the Mirror Game was. All the same I knew, I knew this would end disastrously. But when Cody turned that high-beam smile on me, all my brain cells got sucked out the window.

“Whatever,” I said.

*

“Your turn, Bodhi,” said Cody’s best friend Marcus. “Ask the mirror a question.”

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall …”

Marcus slapped the back of Bodhi’s head. “Wrong line, bong for brains.”

“Dude!” Bodhi protested. He tried again. “Mirror, mirror, Secret Keeper, have no mercy, show us true. Ummmm …”

I was not surprised that Bodhi was at a loss for what to ask. The mirror had already established who picked their nose when no one was looking, who had scratched Cody’s car, who had lost their virginity at the youngest age, who had the hots for Riley's younger sister, who had snitched on Bodhi for bringing weed to school, who had stolen the most money from their parents, who had been hit the most by their parents, who had been felt up by an uncle, who still slept with a stuffed bear. They had to run out of secrets sometime.

Marcus leaned over and whispered in Bodhi’s ear. A crooked grin spread across Bodhi’s face, as he asked, “Who did Cody shag last weekend?” Then Bodhi unfolded his lanky legs and staggered over to Brianna, who took the mirror with a smug smile.

Looking around the circle, I noticed that Cody and Staci both blanched at the same time. This should be interesting, I thought.

Brianna opened the cover, gave a shriek and dropped the mirror. No luck – it didn’t break. Riley picked it up, looked at the image and hooted. There were two faces reflecting her laughter in the mirror: Brianna’s, and Staci’s.

“Secret Keeper, show us true!” Riley led the chant. She held up the mirror. It showed a snapshot of Brianna and Cody, getting it on in his bedroom. And then it rippled into a scene of Staci and Cody, tangled in an awkward embrace in Cody’s car.

I wanted to look away. And I wanted to look. I looked.

Staci grabbed the mirror and stared at it. “I didn’t mean to … I was so drunk that night …”

Brianna jumped to her feet with a stream of invectives and slapped Staci. Staci screamed back at her, then wheeled around and shoved Cody hard. He fell backward. Brianna stood over him, raining curses. Cody tried futilely to scoot away from the sound and the fury.

Staci wailed, “Did Drey find out? Is that why he broke up with me?” She turned on Marcus. “You told him, didn’t you! I hate you!”

At this, Cody glared daggers at Marcus. "I didn't tell Drey anything!" Marcus yelped, looking pleadingly first at Cody, then at Staci. "I swear! I swear!"

Bodhi and Riley leaned back, enjoying the melee. I saw my chance. I grabbed my backpack and made for the ladder. With the money Riley gave me I could call a taxi.

“Where do you think you’re going, Bernadine?” Staci’s voice rose above the chaos. She strode over, grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back into my place in the circle. “Oh, no. We’re not done yet. I have a few questions for the mirror, and we need seven people to make it work. So you are staying until we say you can go. Got it?”

Enough was enough. I’m not naturally brave, but I was done with being a placeholder-slash-punchline for these horrible people. I snatched the mirror from Staci.

I said quickly, angrily, “Mirror, mirror, Secret Keeper, have no mercy, show me true – who’s going to be the first person to leave this attic?”

My own disheveled, hazel-eyed reflection appeared. I shoved the mirror up to Staci’s face. “See? The mirror agrees with me. I’m leaving.”

Staci scoffed. “That’s not how it works. You can only ask it about stuff that’s already happened."

I felt unaccountably stubborn. I almost shouted at the mirror, “Show us true!”

The mirror rippled into a picture of me heading down the ladder. Literally. I was falling head-first. My backpack had slipped off halfway, my feet were flailing, my arms were flinging out into empty air.

I gasped. Staci gaped.

"The mirror thinks I'm about to fall ...?" I whispered, in shock.

"The mirror can tell the future ...?" Staci breathed. She grabbed the mirror. Before I could stop her, she said quickly, "“Mirror mirror, Secret Keeper, have no mercy, show us true, who is going to die tonight?"

"No!" I yelled, reaching for the mirror. Staci yanked it away.

"What's the matter?" she taunted. "Afraid to know your future? Or lack of one?"

"You are despicable!" I said fiercely. "You wouldn't ask if you thought it was you."

"Would you rather I ask the mirror who has had the longest wet crush on Cody?" She smiled, the wicked glint sneaking into her eye.

"You wouldn't. No," I corrected myself, "of course you would." This was all just too much. I was feeling beside myself, like I had stepped out of me into the persona of a stranger.

The stranger-me raised her voice. "Well, how about instead of talking to some stupid mirror, I tell a few parents about all the stolen money and weed and pills? Or maybe the police?"

I felt the room go suddenly silent. It was an ominous silence. Staci stepped up to me, her sharp nose practically touching my face.

"The Mirror is our Secret Keeper, Dina," she hissed. "If you play the Mirror Game, you become a secret keeper. Forever."

"I didn't agree to any of this --" I started, then suddenly we all heard a sound from downstairs.

"Hello? Are you all still here?" It was Drey's voice. We all looked at one another but no one made a move to answer. He called out again. "Staci, I need to talk to you." There was a thump and several curses. Evidently he was stumbling around trying to find the ladder in the dark.

"Cody? Brianna? Come on, I know you all came here to play that stupid game." His speech was slurred, as if he'd been playing his own drinking game before he arrived.

Staci turned to the group, her eyes wide, making panicked "shh"ing gestures. I saw my chance. I nabbed the mirror out of her hand.

Staci whipped around and reached out her arm to take it back. Her arm slammed against my backpack, knocking me off balance. I reached for the top of the ladder to steady myself, and missed.

I tumbled.

My feet were flailing, my arms were flinging out into empty air. The hand holding the mirror stretched forward to break my fall. But instead of meeting a hard tile floor, I landed with a soft and sickening thump. I heard a sharp crack, a wild cry, a gurgling moan, then silence. And then screams. I thought that was Staci, but when my ears stopped ringing, I realized they were coming from me.

"What happened? Are you okay?" It sounded like Riley's voice. I squinted upward. Anxious, curious faces ringed the space around the ladder.

I couldn't answer. My arms and legs were pretzeled and it seemed there were too many limbs involved. I untangled one arm from the backpack and tried to heave myself upright. My hand pushed against -- a face. It had to be Drey's face. The face, and the body attached to it, did not move. I snatched up my hand in alarm. It felt wet.

Someone above had turned on their phone flashlight and in the beam I saw the blood, staining my palm, drenching Drey's neck and shoulder. A large shard of the mirror protruded from his throat. The rest of the mirror lay in two jagged pieces beside him on the floor.

"Dina? What's going on down there? Say something!"

"The mirror is broken," I heard myself say. Why was that the first thing out of my mouth? "I think -- I think Drey is ... Someone should call 911."

Now Staci really did scream. I heard Brianna trying to calm her. I heard Marcus talking to a dispatcher. No one came down the ladder.

I finally was able to find my footing to stand, though my legs felt ghostly. I looked down at Drey. He had actually seemed like a decent guy, other than his blind spot for Staci. Because of me, he lay there crumpled and bloody, Because of him I was alive.

With a shaking hand, I picked one of the mirror pieces up off the floor. In the thin light from above an image was barely visible in the glass. It was Drey's lifeless face, or at least the part of it that fit on the fragment.

Then I recalled Staci's last question. The mirror, without mercy, had shown true.

I retrieved the second mirror piece from the floor and tucked them into my backpack. I did not disturb the shard piercing Drey. I couldn't bear to look at him.

I hoisted my pack on my shoulder and stumbled out into the night, fishing in my pocket for my phone to call a taxi. I could hear sirens in the distance.

The next day I told my parents I was too sick to go to school. Dutiful, responsible daughter that I am, they believed me. A few days later, I sent a text to Riley.

The mirror shattered into bits on the floor. Only the frame was left. Thought you'd want to know.

Upright, boring, A+ student that I am, I knew they would believe me.

After a pause, I sent a second text: Please tell Staci, I'm sorry.

I glued the fragments together and kept the mirror in our basement. Every now and then, when the house is too quiet and the voices in my head too loud, I find myself drawn to its hiding place. I run my fingers over the scar on its surface. I feel the jagged gaping emptiness of the missing shard.

I try not to look at the image still graven on the mirror, but whether I look or not, I still see it.

Mirror, mirror, I think, have mercy. Show me lies. Show me my life as it would be if I had said no to Riley, no to Cody, no to the game. If there had been no part of me that enjoyed being in that circle. If I hadn't tried to take the mirror. If I had no secrets for it to keep.

But it always shows me true.