I was back in that dark little room below the school. Brady had slumped down against the wall, his head in his hands. He was waiting for me.
I took a moment to catch my breath. What had just happened? An illusion? A dream?
“Is it real?” I asked Brady.
“Do you want it to be?”
I realized I was still holding the egg timer in my suddenly clammy palm, its slight ticking echoing in my ears with the intensity of a telltale heart. Brady didn’t seem to notice, however, his eyes remaining focused on mine.
I slid the timer into my pocket, still trying to process that I had brought it back with me from the other side. I had to go home. I had to see if it was really missing from my mother’s kitchen. I started backing away from Brady.
“Marina,” Brady said, quite calm. “About Piper . . .”
“What about her?” I asked, still backing away.
“You can’t tell anyone about her. If you do, it’ll lead back to this place. And if people find out about this place . . . if the world finds out . . .”
“Brady, you’re scaring me.”
“She’ll come back on her own. I know she will. I know Piper.”
The egg timer was still ticking, and it seemed to be growing louder. I felt dizzy, the sound echoing around me. I realized that I could still smell bacon on my shirt. I scooped up the timer and dropped it in my backpack, trying to hide it away.
“I have to go home,” I almost whispered.
“Marina, promise me . . .”
I didn’t want to hear it. I kept climbing, up the stairs, out of that little tent and through the science lab. I ran and ran, down the hallway and away from that terrible dark little boiler room. I wouldn’t stop until I was back up in the school, and then out of the school, through the front door, onto my bike, and home again.
The final bell rang as I was emerging from the boiler-room door, so I easily lost myself in the gathering crowd of people. I weaved in and out of their heavy backpacks and overstuffed coats.
“Where you goin’, Marina?” called a girl I recognized from my chemistry class. Christy or Kirsty. I turned quickly to find her in the crowd and waved. She looked concerned.
“I—I gotta go,” was all I could muster before running off again.
“You okay?” she called after me as I ran.
I pretended not to hear her. I had to get home again. I had to see if it was gone from the kitchen.
I brought back an egg timer, I thought.
What did Piper McMahon bring back?
CHAPTER 5
I pedaled so hard the chain on my bike started to rattle and I was afraid it would fall off. I slowed down a bit, not wanting to be delayed by anything. But then my mind would start to race again and my feet would pump even harder, and soon the chain would be rattling again.
The farther I got from the school, the more the whole thing felt like a dark and twisted dream. That room hadn’t been real. Of course it hadn’t.
Robbie and I had seen a magic show once with my parents, one with all sorts of classic illusions—making a bunny disappear; sawing a woman in half. On the drive home, I think Robbie could tell how freaked out I was. I kept imagining the sword slicing through the woman’s body and the look on her face while the magician did it—she was smiling. So obviously it wasn’t real. Right?
“It wasn’t real, you know,” Robbie had whispered into my ear on the drive home. My parents were talking quietly in the front seat. “He didn’t really saw her in half.”
“Well, I know that,” I said. But I didn’t, really. I saw the sword go through the box. I saw the man pull the box apart into two sections. That woman’s body was ripped in two. Her feet still dangled out of the end. I knew it was a trick, of course. But I didn’t see how it could be.
“How does it work?”
“Mirrors.”
“What about them?”
“They just use mirrors. Everybody knows that.” Robbie turned back to the window.
And I realized that he didn’t really know the answer either. He knew mirrors were involved, but he didn’t understand how any more than I did.
Still, the answer satisfied me. She wasn’t ripped in two. Because mirrors. That was all I really needed to know.
Once again, Robbie had made everything seem all right.
I was still thinking about that magic trick when I pulled my bike into the driveway and dropped it off to the side of the garage so I could run into the house.
My mother was sitting at the kitchen table, her pen hovering over a half-written shopping list. She had her head resting in one hand and she looked even more tired than usual. She seemed shocked to see me.
“Hey. You’re home early.”
“School let out,” I said, probably a little too enthusiastically. I tried to dial the volume down a notch. “I’m just gonna get a snack.”
“Okay.” My mom turned back to her list. The great thing about having a depressed parent was that they didn’t notice too much.
I gulped down a deep breath and searched the counter for the egg timer, fully expecting to find it there, just like normal. And yet . . .
“Where’s the egg timer?”
“Hmm?” my mother grunted while writing something on her list.
“Isn’t there usually an egg timer here? Where’s the egg timer?”
“Do you need to time something?” my mother asked, still disinterested. “Use the app on your phone.”
“I—I need it for school. What happened to it? It’s usually right here. Did it . . .” I could barely finish the sentence. I had to gulp down some spit and start over. “Did it disappear?”
I could feel my cheeks getting hot. The room
