Chapter 55 — Reflections and Repercussions

Chapter 55 — Reflections and Repercussions
You’d think after facing a possessed sophomore, battling my own insecurities in mirror form, and semi-confessing my feelings to Lucas, the universe would cut me a break. But nope. The universe apparently had a twisted sense of humor.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I whispered, gripping the strap of my backpack like it could offer protection.

Lucas gave me a sideways look. “Of course it’s not. That’s why it’ll probably work.”

We were standing in front of Principal Ocampo’s office. Again. Except this time, it wasn’t because we’d been caught sneaking into the East Building or setting off the fire alarm—long story—but because we’d asked to be here.

Voluntarily.

We were here to come clean.

Sort of.

Lena had helped us piece together a version of the truth that was 90% real and 10% “we swear this isn’t a supernatural thing.” A concerned student’s report about Jamie Carter’s erratic behavior, some weird light flickers in the old wing, a theory about contaminated materials in the mirrors (thank you, Lena’s random cousin who was into chemistry), and a heartfelt plea that the school take the situation seriously.

It was enough to warrant an inspection, at least.

But Principal Ocampo? Not exactly known for her open-mindedness.

Lucas gave my hand a quick squeeze before pushing the door open. My heart did a backflip—and not just because of the impending confrontation.

Principal Ocampo looked up from her desk, her glasses perched low on her nose like she was halfway through a Sudoku and annoyed to be interrupted.

“You again,” she said. “Let me guess—fire this time, or did someone accidentally break a window with a lacrosse stick?”

Lucas sat down without flinching. “Neither. We need to talk to you about Jamie Carter.”

She frowned. “He’s at home recovering from—what did his mother say—flu complications.”

I leaned forward. “We think something’s really wrong. With him. And maybe the school, too.”

Ocampo sighed. “Unless you have solid proof of an actual hazard, not conspiracy theories, I can’t escalate this.”

Lucas shot me a look that said, Should we? I gave him one back that said, Do it.

He pulled out Lena’s phone and played the video.

The mirror shimmered. Jamie stepped forward, eyes unfocused. The footage ended with the screen glitching out entirely.

Principal Ocampo actually paled.

“Where was this taken?”

Lucas didn’t miss a beat. “East Building. Last week. The day Jamie went home sick.”

Ocampo sat back in her chair, her fingers steepled. “Who filmed this?”

“Anonymous submission to a gossip account,” I said smoothly. “It’s been circulating, but people think it’s edited.”

“Do you think it’s edited?”

I looked her straight in the eye. “No. And we think it’s dangerous.”

There was a long pause.

Finally, she nodded once. “I’ll look into it. And in the meantime, stay away from that building.”

I nodded.

Lucas didn’t.

When we got outside, he muttered, “Like we’re actually gonna stay away.”

I elbowed him. “We have to. We did our part.”

He stopped, turning to face me in the middle of the walkway. “Did we?”

His voice was quiet, but his eyes were burning with frustration. And fear.

“Lucas…”

“I keep thinking—what if we’re too late next time? What if it’s not just Jamie? What if…” He looked away. “What if it’s you?”

The vulnerability in his voice undid me.

Without thinking, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him. He went stiff for a second, then melted into me, his chin resting on the top of my head like it belonged there.

“We’re not too late,” I whispered. “Not this time.”

He pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes. “You’re not scared?”

“I’m terrified,” I admitted. “But I’m also tired of pretending I’m not.”

He gave me a small, crooked smile. “You’re kind of brave, you know that?”

I scoffed. “Tell that to my stomach. It’s been doing gymnastics since we got here.”

He laughed, and the sound settled something warm in my chest.

We started walking again, slower this time.

“So…” I said casually, bumping my shoulder into his. “Does this count as our second almost-date?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Our first one was in a haunted mirror dimension. I think we’re setting weird standards.”

“I mean, what’s next? Dinner and exorcism?”

Lucas snorted. “Honestly, that sounds about right.”

I grinned, but then something tugged at my chest. “Lucas?”

“Yeah?”

“If all of this goes away—if the mirrors stop, if the weirdness ends… what happens to us?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Finally, he said, “What do you want to happen?”

I hesitated. “I want to be real. Not just the chaos. Us.”

He reached over, gently lacing his fingers with mine.

“We are real,” he said. “Even if we suck at being normal.”

I laughed. “Speak for yourself. I’m a model student.”

“You got detention for punching me, remember?”

“Okay, formerly a model student.”

We walked the rest of the way like that—quiet, warm, together. It was something we hadn’t had time for lately.

And I didn’t realize how badly I’d needed it.

That night, I dreamed of mirrors again.

Except this time, it wasn’t my reflection that stared back.

It was Jamie.

His mirror-self looked directly at me through the glass and smiled.

“Tag,” he whispered. “You’re next.”

I woke up gasping.

My phone buzzed on my nightstand.

A message from Lucas.

Did you feel that?

Rae: What??

Lucas: I swear something moved in my mirror. I was brushing my teeth, and the reflection didn’t match. Just for a second.

Rae: I had a dream. Jamie said I’m next.

Lucas: Okay. That’s it. We’re not waiting for Ocampo. Tomorrow, we go back.

Rae: What if we get caught?

Lucas: Then we don’t get caught.

Rae: Okay. We go together.

Lucas: Always.

I lay back down, staring at the ceiling, heart thudding. The quiet between us was more comforting than any lullaby.

But just before I drifted back to sleep, I heard it.

A click.

I turned slowly toward the mirror in my room.

It looked… normal.

Except for the tiniest, almost invisible crack at the corner.

I sat up fast.

Another crack appeared—like spiderwebs forming silently across the glass.

Then, from within, a faint echo of laughter.

Not mine.

Not Lucas’s.

Jamie’s.

But warped.

Distorted.

Wrong.

The mirror pulsed once.

Then my reflection blinked—out of sync with me.

And whispered, “It’s your turn, Rae.”