Jacob Wonderbar and the Cosmic Space Kapow (17 page)

“I don't know,” she said. “But you'd better make it snappy.”

Dexter left the spaceship and walked toward the Looking Glass. The façade of the building was itself a giant mirror, with an ornate wooden frame around the edges and reflective glass covering all four sides. As he walked toward it Dexter could see himself approaching. He did not look at all like the confident kid he had resolved to be just a short while ago. The Era of Dexter was not off to a promising start, what with crying in front of a construction worker and not being able to find a way home. But he puffed up his chest, gave himself a bounce in his step, and told himself that whatever he was going to see in the Looking Glass, well, he could handle it.

He walked through the front door and into the foyer, which was entirely covered in mirrors. He stared at the floor, which reflected the ceiling, which reflected the walls, and he had to focus to stand upright because the effect was so disorienting. He wasn't sure which way to walk.

“Appellation?” asked a scientist sitting at a mirrored desk. Even her lab coat was made of reflective material. She had a deep, dry voice, and a slight accent that made her sound as if she would have felt quite at home in an old vampire movie.

“Huh?”

“Name, young man. What is your name?”

“Dexter Goldstein.”

“And whom do you want to see?”

“My parents.”

“I see.” She typed Dexter's name into the desk and nodded. “Right this way.”

Dexter followed the scientist into a cavernous room. He stared up at the mirrored ceiling, which was incredibly far away, and he looked very tiny, just a speck in a giant space. The scientist talked as they made their way toward the middle of the room.

“The Looking Glass will allow you to see anyone in the universe. All you have to do is think of a person, and through brain imaging and some patent-pending technological innovations the Looking Glass will show you these individuals. Space and time are not impediments. You may see them, but you will not be able to communicate with them. You must take care with the results, and do not use this device for any purpose other than research. We must adhere to the strongest ethics. No mucking about.” She turned around and stared down at Dexter. “Do you understand?”

“I think so.”

“Do you think so or do you know so?”

“Um . . .”

“Answer the question.”

“Yes,” Dexter said quietly. “I understand.”

The scientist gave just the slightest upturn of the corners of her mouth, and she bowed. “Good. Right this way.”

Dexter and the scientist approached a large mirror in the center of the room that had swirling gold edges and hovered in place. Even though Dexter had seen almost nothing but mirrors ever since he had entered the building, this one seemed different from the rest, even aside from the fact that it was hovering as if it were exempt from the laws of gravity. It had an almost otherworldly shimmer and a presence of its own, like a living thing.

“Now, Mr. Goldstein,” the scientist said. “Whom do you want to see?”

“I already told—” he said.

“Don't tell me. Just think about them and you will see them.”

Dexter thought quickly about Jacob and Sarah and Mick, but he knew there were more important things that he needed to know first. He had to make sure everyone was still alive on Earth.

Dexter took a deep breath and stared at the mirror. He thought about his parents and concentrated on a mental image of their faces. Even though he had just heard the rules of the Looking Glass, he held out hope that they would somehow know that he was watching and that he was alive and that he needed their help. He wanted some sign or miracle that they could help him find his way home.

He noticed the light bending on the Looking Glass, and had the sudden sense that he could see all the way through it and that it was opening up a world in front of him.

The light rearranged itself, and Dexter saw his mother. His initial elation at seeing her alive and realizing Earth still existed soon gave way to panic as he saw that she was lying in a hospital bed, looking deathly pale, with tubes emanating from her body and a steady, terrifying beep counting her heartbeat. Her black hair, normally pulled back into a crisp bun, was messy and disheveled. She stirred softly, as if she was uncomfortable but didn't have the strength to move.

The door to the room opened and Dexter's father walked in, his face pale and concerned.

Dexter's mother slowly turned to face him. “Have they found Dexy?”

His father looked away but didn't answer.

His mother stared back at the ceiling and took a deep breath. After a moment a tear slid down her cheek.

“No!” Dexter shouted. “Mom, no! I'm okay!”

The image grew blurry, and then Dexter saw himself in the Looking Glass, looking hysterical and terrified.

“No!” he shouted again, his voice echoing across the distant walls. He turned to the scientist, who was standing serenely with her hands clasped. It was worse than he could have imagined. Not only was his mom in the hospital, but they were worried about him. It dawned on him that the stress of his disappearance must have made her sick. He could have been responsible for everything. “I have to get back to Earth. How can I get back to Earth? Please! She looks sick! What if she's going to die?”

“Did you say Earth?”

“Yes! Please, the route is under construction and I have to get back. I have to, I have to!” Dexter's voice cracked and he searched the scientist's face for some signal that she would help him. “Please!”

“How old are you, young man?” the scientist asked.

“I'm . . . twelve and . . . What does that have to do with anything?”

“A twelve-year-old Earther,” the scientist said, scratching her chin. “Very curious.”

“Listen to me!”

The scientist stared off into the distance. “Why, what's that over there?”

Dexter turned and looked, but all he saw were distant mirrors. “What? Where?”

He felt a strong hand on his shoulder and a cloth over his nose that smelled like cough medicine. He tried to scream, but his voice wouldn't come. He felt suddenly numb and weak.

And then everything went black.

S
arah Daisy stared at herself in the full-length mirror in her suite on Planet Royale. She was wearing a long black dress that brought out her blond hair and blue eyes. Her ears felt heavy from long jeweled earrings, and she wore a silver necklace with a large green gemstone. She had never, ever dressed up so fancily before, even for her biggest piano recitals. Part of her wanted to tear it all off and find the nearest pair of jeans, but another part of her actually kind of enjoyed the way the dress moved in the mirror.

She had waited all day for the gala, desperately searching for something to do. First she had walked down to the lagoon to try to talk to the pink dolphin, but she soon learned that dolphins weren't particularly interesting conversationalists. She searched the palace grounds for an escape route, finding all sorts of storerooms filled with pillows and chandeliers and bathrobes and slippers, but she didn't find any possible hint of a way off the planet. She tried to get a suntan but didn't last five minutes lying still, and even took Sven up on his offer to book an appointment with the royal masseuse, an ancient woman with white hair and hands of steel. Sarah made sure that the appointment involved rigorous tapping and strange contortions because at least that was somewhat entertaining. She found the cook and offered to help him with the next meal, but he was too distracted to speak to her. She even caught a glimpse of the king, a tall man with white hair, walking around the gardens with his hands clasped in contemplation, but she ducked and ran away, too scared to talk to him.

After pretending a pillow was a soccer ball and kicking it around her suite, and tapping out a sonata silently on the desk, Sarah finally yelled, “Get me out of here!” and after no one came to rescue her, she began dressing for the gala, where at least she might be able to use some of the steps she learned in ballet.

As she was admiring her dress in the mirror, she heard a proper voice say, “Mistress Daisy?”

She looked around and up at the ceiling and she grinned. “Praiseworthy?!”

“Oh, great goose's gold, it's so good to hear your voice! The palace's computer allowed me on his circuits so that I could tell you that I'm sure you look simply beautiful and dazzling, and you will be the envy of tonight's gala.”

Sarah's eyebrows went up in happiness and she thought she might cry. “Praiseworthy, that's so nice! I'm so glad you're here. I've missed you so much.”

Suddenly a loud alarm went off and lights began flashing. Sarah looked around in confusion.

“Mistress Daisy,” Praiseworthy whispered urgently. “You must save me! The palace mechanics are going to paint me pink and turn me back into a princess party cruiser. Oh, the humanity! I simply can't bear it. I've created a diversion. Run! Run! Please help me! I can only keep the palace's computer at bay for so long!”

“Where are you? I've been looking all over for you!”

“The spaceport is at the end of the hall to your right! I've unlocked the door for you. Please hurry!”

Sarah ran out into the hall and closed the door behind her. She peered down the long hallway of the palace and began walking briskly. Red lights were flashing and the alarm was sounding throughout the palace. She saw a servant at the other end of the hall waving his arms at her. “Miss Daisy, you must move outside, the alarms . . .”

Sarah smiled and pointed down the hall. “I'm just ... um . . . going . . . and . . . um . . . yeah.” She grimaced at her poor performance and hoped the sergrimaced at her poor performance and hoped the servant wouldn't follow her.

She kept on walking toward the spaceport and breathed a sigh of relief when she entered and saw Praiseworthy, still painted a sloppy black. “You came!” he shouted. “Oh, Mistress Daisy, this is such a happy day.”

“Let's get out of here, Praiseworthy!”

“How I hoped you would say that! Yee-haw!”

Sarah wanted to hug him even though he was a huge spaceship. But a figure stepped out of the shadows.

“I thought I'd find you here,” Mick Cracken said with one of his insufferable grins. He was wearing a tuxedo with shimmering fabric, and his hair was actually arranged properly rather than its typical mess of tangles. Sarah had to admit that he had cleaned up into something approaching handsome, even if his cocky grin ruined the effect.

“What do
you
want?” Sarah said with her hands on her hips.

Mick's mischievous grin morphed into an innocent smile. The change in expression was a Mick Cracken specialty. “You look lovely. Black is the perfect color on you. You're a vision.”

Sarah rolled her eyes.

“I came to apologize,” he said. “I'm sorry I lied to you. I said some things I shouldn't have. And I hope you'll forgive me. I know I doubted that you like me.”

“I don't like you,” she said.

Mick smiled again and stepped slowly toward her. “Exactly. It shows you like me for who I am. Or rather dislike me for who I am. You're not caught up in . . .” Mick waved his hand. “All this. So many people are.”

Up close Mick's freckles weren't quite as ugly as she had thought they were and his eyes were very blue, although she certainly didn't choose her friends based on their eye color. She appreciated that he knew he had been wrong and decided to apologize to her. Perhaps he was merely partially rotten instead of completely rotten.

“I'm sorry too,” she said. “For being rude to you sometimes. Even though you mostly deserved it.”