saw. I could feel the distortion inside me—the sickening swelling of organs and the shifting of bones—but I refused to panic. I held tightly to Maggie’s hand. I didn’t turn around, I didn’t turn left or right, getting confused as to which direction I started out in. Instead I stepped forward again into the next mirror. This was a really bad one, altering the way I felt about myself. I’m wrong! I’m always wrong! I can’t make a good decision! I felt the mirror turning me uncertain and indecisive, making me feel that no matter what I did next, I was doomed, doomed, doomed.
Maggie felt it too. I heard her moaning and trying to loosen her grip on my hand, not trusting me, not trusting herself. If I gave in to those feelings, we truly would be doomed, so I fought my own mind and made my feet move, stepping forward again through the next mirror, and the next, and the next, always moving forward. My stride became a limping lope; my eyesight turned cloudy and full of double images as my eyes changed sizes.
Through it all, Maggie held my hand. At the times when I came to mirrors that slowed me down because of what they made me feel, that was when she took the lead, pulling me on, even when I didn’t have the strength to move forward.
There came a point when my body had become so unnaturally bent and convoluted that moving forward was next to impossible. One foot dragged, the other moved sideways. My whole body ached and strained against itself as if, at any moment, my joints would give way and I would collapse into a blubbery mess on the bone-ridden ground. My own frame looked as bad as these bones did, and I wondered whether they were actually the bones of other unfortunate riders or whether they were just put here to force everyone trapped in the maze to give up hope. We must have passed through twenty mirrors. I began to worry that maybe my theory was wrong.
I stumbled, and Maggie helped me up. I felt my face and turned to her. She didn’t look much worse than shehad when I first found her, but then, she couldn’t look much worse than she already had.
“Now we’re the same,” I told her. My voice was so distorted, I could barely make out my own words.
She touched my face, which was numb and rubbery. “We always were,” she said.
Do you know what it’s like to be turned inside out in every way you can be and have the worst parts of yourself exposed to anyone who happens to be looking? Maybe you do—after all, it happens to us a little bit all the time. I guess lots of people would look at you and run, like Russ. But to have someone who won’t run—someone who won’t use your shame against you—that takes someone special. Having that person with you in the worst part of the maze makes all the difference.
I honestly don’t know if I could have made it any farther on my own, but Maggie was there, and it was all right. We were the same.
I took her hand again and kept going. If moving through the mirrors was a mistake, I didn’t care. I was going all the way, until there was nothing left of me. We pushed through five more mirrors. Ten. Twenty. Then finally the reflections started to get just a little bit better. The feelings I had inside began to lighten just the slightest bit.
A few mirrors more, and my eyes went back to normal, the twist in my spine was almost gone, and my arms were just about the same length. I was almost myself, and when I looked to Maggie, she was almost herself again too.
Finally we stood at the last mirror. I knew it was the last mirror because the reflection it gave back was perfect. Well, maybe not perfect, but me, in all my imperfections. As I stood there I felt the urge to look anywhere but straight ahead, as if the mirrors on either side of me were daring me to take a final glance. I resisted. I forced myself to take that giant step through the last mirror, to find myself facing a pea green sky and an endless salt flat.
“We made it!” I shouted. “We’re
Maggie felt it too. I heard her moaning and trying to loosen her grip on my hand, not trusting me, not trusting herself. If I gave in to those feelings, we truly would be doomed, so I fought my own mind and made my feet move, stepping forward again through the next mirror, and the next, and the next, always moving forward. My stride became a limping lope; my eyesight turned cloudy and full of double images as my eyes changed sizes.
Through it all, Maggie held my hand. At the times when I came to mirrors that slowed me down because of what they made me feel, that was when she took the lead, pulling me on, even when I didn’t have the strength to move forward.
There came a point when my body had become so unnaturally bent and convoluted that moving forward was next to impossible. One foot dragged, the other moved sideways. My whole body ached and strained against itself as if, at any moment, my joints would give way and I would collapse into a blubbery mess on the bone-ridden ground. My own frame looked as bad as these bones did, and I wondered whether they were actually the bones of other unfortunate riders or whether they were just put here to force everyone trapped in the maze to give up hope. We must have passed through twenty mirrors. I began to worry that maybe my theory was wrong.
I stumbled, and Maggie helped me up. I felt my face and turned to her. She didn’t look much worse than shehad when I first found her, but then, she couldn’t look much worse than she already had.
“Now we’re the same,” I told her. My voice was so distorted, I could barely make out my own words.
She touched my face, which was numb and rubbery. “We always were,” she said.
Do you know what it’s like to be turned inside out in every way you can be and have the worst parts of yourself exposed to anyone who happens to be looking? Maybe you do—after all, it happens to us a little bit all the time. I guess lots of people would look at you and run, like Russ. But to have someone who won’t run—someone who won’t use your shame against you—that takes someone special. Having that person with you in the worst part of the maze makes all the difference.
I honestly don’t know if I could have made it any farther on my own, but Maggie was there, and it was all right. We were the same.
I took her hand again and kept going. If moving through the mirrors was a mistake, I didn’t care. I was going all the way, until there was nothing left of me. We pushed through five more mirrors. Ten. Twenty. Then finally the reflections started to get just a little bit better. The feelings I had inside began to lighten just the slightest bit.
A few mirrors more, and my eyes went back to normal, the twist in my spine was almost gone, and my arms were just about the same length. I was almost myself, and when I looked to Maggie, she was almost herself again too.
Finally we stood at the last mirror. I knew it was the last mirror because the reflection it gave back was perfect. Well, maybe not perfect, but me, in all my imperfections. As I stood there I felt the urge to look anywhere but straight ahead, as if the mirrors on either side of me were daring me to take a final glance. I resisted. I forced myself to take that giant step through the last mirror, to find myself facing a pea green sky and an endless salt flat.
“We made it!” I shouted. “We’re
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