Backward Glass

His shoulders slumped and he gave a defeated smile. “Okay.”

From downstairs, my mother called again. I called back that I’d be right down, but I didn’t take my eyes off Connor. Off you. “Are you my … ?” I said at last.

“Don’t say it,” said Luka. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Your gaze flicked to her. “Hey, I didn’t tell him,” you said with a grin. “I can’t stop him figuring things out. I’m not used to him when he isn’t old and slow.” You straightened up and held out your hand. “Connor Maxwell,” you said. “Born in 2000. Seventeen years old.”

“Kenny?” my mom called. “Who’s up there?”

“It was great to meet you,” you said. “I wish we could have had more time. Get that nose fixed, will you?”

You pulled me into a quick hug, then broke it off, held my shoulders for a second, and backed into the mirror. Luka promised to come back again and followed.

Moments after she disappeared into the mirror, my mother came into the room.

“Oh, Kenny, you didn’t,” she said.

I tried my best to meet her eyes. “I did.”

“What could have made you do that again?”

I scratched my head. “I think it was my son.”

Seven

You’ll go down the backward glass.

My parents were angry, but they still let me have a proper goodbye, and I’ll bet you know what happened. New Year’s Eve, our last day in the glass forever. My dad moved the mirror to the living room, because it wasn’t just my goodbye. Grandma and my parents had come to love Luka during the summer of my disappearance, so they all wanted to say their tearful farewells. Grandma said she hoped she’d get to see Luka again, and Luka said not to be silly, of course she would.

My mom gave her a few last-minute presents—some fresh-baked cookies and a handful of family photographs.

After a long hug, they all found excuses to leave the room, so Luka and I had a few minutes alone, though Mom stayed in the kitchen, clattering dishes to both tell us where she was and cover the sounds of our conversation.

“I can’t believe this is over,” I said.

“It’s never over, though, is it?” said Luka.

“How do you mean?”

She reached behind her and touched the mirror lightly. “It wasn’t over for Curtis when his year ended. It wasn’t over for Lilly or Peggy. It’s not like the story of your life is over.”

“But ours is,” I said. “Yours and mine together. If I go see you now, you’ll be a little kid. We had a good time, though, didn’t we?”

“The best.”

“I wish you could stay.”

“I wish you could come.”

“Would you just kiss her already?” shouted Grandma from upstairs.

I wanted to. But Luka was almost two years older than me. And she was beautiful. Was that the first time I was thinking this? Maybe it was. And she was my friend.

“Funny about that Connor guy, though,” I said, trying to change the subject.

“What was?”

“Him as my kid. He didn’t exactly say that, did he? I mean, I know you always say the mirror kids are all connected, but I don’t know.”

“Why not?”

I shrugged. “The names. His name was Connor. He said his sister and brother were Dana and Eric. I just don’t know if I’d ever pick those names, that’s all.”

Luka got a huge grin on her face and came to a decision. She stepped forward, grabbed my shoulders, and kissed me square on the mouth.

It was awkward, and it wasn’t a long kiss like you see in the movies, and maybe that’s all I’m going to tell you about it, because maybe it’s none of your business.

It was good, though.

When she let me go, she stepped back and pushed partway into the mirror. “Maybe you wouldn’t,” she said, and then paused for effect the way she loved to do. “But I would. Bye, Kenny. Come and find me. It was the best year of my life.”

And she was gone.

You know, after all that happened, I still don’t really know much about the future. And I guess that’s okay by me.

I’m glad I met you. And your mother.

Acknowledgments

Though I have already dedicated this book to her, I would be remiss in not beginning by thanking my wife, my first and best reader. Others who have been very influential in the development of Backward Glass are my agent, the absolutely incredible Katie Grimm, and my editor at Flux, the absolutely merciless Brian Farrey-Latz. Their insight, wisdom, and good sense have been of immeasurable help. My copy editor, Rhiannon Nelson, was instrumental in both rescuing me from a few embarrassing mistakes and giving some very clever last-minute suggestions. I also want to thank my parents, Ed and Margaret Lomax, whose reading to me in my formative years shaped my whole world; Regan Devine, my tenth-grade creative writing teacher, for instilling in me the sense that writing is rewriting; and Lister Mathieson and the whole crew (students and teachers) of the Clarion 98 workshop, who pushed me ahead on a particularly long path. Finally, my kids were a great inspiration; I wanted to write a fun adventure for them. I even hid their names inside.

About the Author

At age eight, David Lomax was transplanted to Canada from his native Scotland. The same year, his parents read him Tarzan of the Apes, and he decided to become a writer. He didn't get all of the cool jobs his other writer friends did to make their biographies sound interesting, such as train driver, elevator repairman, or insurance underwriter. He was, briefly, a waiter. But not a good one. He currently divides his time between four great passions—writing, reading, teaching high-school English, and his wonderful family. He lives in Toronto with his awesome wife and three precocious children.