Reflection

Meredith woke up to the pounding of rain on her window. She yawned and stretched before setting her feet on the plush blue carpet. She pulled on a comfortable sweatshirt over her favorite band-shirt. Her mother was downstairs making breakfast already, she could tell by the smell of fresh cinnamon buns wafting up the stairs, the breakfast that her mother always bakes when there was rain. Her feet padded gently down the blue stairs to the kitchen, where she grabbed a steaming cinnamon roll.

I watched her through the window, ever so silently. She was late, too late for it to be just a mistake.

The day was plain, an endless gray sky stretching over the still farmland. Her bus rolled to a screeching halt, two minutes late. I watched her get on the bus, keeping her head down, away from the windows and away from my stare. She knew I was watching, she knew because she never looked up from her book. Not once.

When she reached school, Meredith avoided the gathering puddles and wrapped her rain jacket tighter around her. I glared angrily at her feet as she passed by me. I almost screamed out of frustration, but I knew this was not the time. Her turn would come soon, very soon.

Her first class was English. Meredith hated English, almost as much as she did algebra. She struggled with the functions of the English language and the structure of sentences. Her troubles in the class were always so pitiful, I had to muffle my laughter every time she walked through the classroom door. She hung her coat up on her chair as she slid into her desk. The room was stifling hot, all of the students shifted uncomfortably in their seats. The teacher stood before her class, back turned, facing the board. She wrote, Pop Quiz on Grammar, on the board and a groan reverberated throughout the classroom.

“Take out a pencil and when you are finished bring the tests to place on my desk.” She passed out the tests to the front row, who send the rest to the desks behind them.

Meredith squirmed and pretended to stretch to get a glimpse of the clock. She stared hatefully down at her grammar quiz. Her pencil hovered over the page, never touching it once. Other students turned their test over to begin the second page. Meredith glanced up at the clock again while popping her knuckles. She scribbled an answer to a question, then hurriedly raised her hand.

“Ms. Cruger?” Meredith said in a hushed voice, “Can I go to the bathroom?”

“Yes, hurry back.” The teacher, Ms. Cruger, looked up distractedly from the paperwork on her desk as she said this.

Meredith practically leapt out of her seat and bounded towards the door. The stillness of the hallway welcomed her. The air was fresher out here than in the stuffy classroom. She strode down the hallway, taking her time, but never looking up from her feet. As she passed by the window from where I was watching I dared to call out her name. Not so loud as I speak normally, but in a whisper, as if I wanted to share a secret in her ear. She didn’t react except for a split second, her eyes lifted up from her gaze on her feet. Her eyes stopped halfway to the window. So close.

Her pace quickened by half a beat. I murmured her name for a second time when she passed the next classroom window. She seemed so out of place in the hallway decorated with posters and student artwork, her hair at more of a monochrome tone of amber and her skin a pale white. Meredith finally reached the bathroom and pushed the cherry red door open.

I was waiting for her. I fixed my gaze directly on her, despising every bit of what she has done to me. She knew it was time. I watched her shuffle in in, every step dragging heavily on the white tiled floor. She came to a standstill, facing the mirror, bracing her hands on the counter. Her breath was labored, coming to the beat of the drip of the leaky faucet. Inhale...drip...exhale...drip...inhale... Meredith’s focus, however, was not yet lifted from any higher than the counter.

“What...do...you...want?” Meredith breathed.

I remained silent.

“It’s not time yet. I had forgotten...at the beginning, then I remembered my place.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Give me more time, please. Don’t make me go back.”

“You have forgotten your place.”

“No...”

“Don’t argue with me!” I cleared my voice, “Don’t argue with me. We had a deal. If that deal is broken do you remember what would happen?”

“Yes.” Meredith muttered.

“Well then, you wouldn’t want it to break that deal now, would you?” Meredith shook her head, “I didn’t think so.”

Silence enveloped the room, except for the echoing drip...inhale...drip...exhale...

“Meredith. Look at me.” I whispered softly.

“No. Please.”

“Meredith.” I raised my voice.

“Please...” Tears began to trickle gently down her pale cheeks.

“Meredith!” I screamed so loud that the mirror between us shook.

She shook her head, however elevated her face ever so slowly. It pained her to look into my eyes, giving up for the burden so easily.

I smiled crookedly and reached my hand out of the mirror for hers. “Don’t worry, the month will be over soon and you won’t be just a reflection anymore. When the time’s up, you’ll be Meredith."