REFLECTING POOL
Looking for a job was the last thing on Jamie Hanover’s mind as she trudged home from school on a chilly, gray afternoon. Jobs in town were scarce, especially for teenagers. Why bother? It made her first encounter with Miss Pratt all the more surprising.
Miss Pratt was ancient, like a dried flower behind glass, and she was placing a help Wanted sign in her window. She looked up, and Jamie saw the clear blue eyes of a much younger woman. When Miss Pratt spoke, Jamie couldn’t hear the words from outside, but she could read them on Miss Pratt’s thin lips — Come inside.
It was easy for Jamie to imagine what she could do with some extra money. She could hang out at the mall with her friends and actually buy something; she could start saving for a car. And so, on that cold November day, Jamie Hanover didn’t hesitate. She pushed open the front door, and the twinkling of a bell overhead announced her arrival.
There were floor-to-ceiling shelves everywhere, each one crowded with antiques, battered tools, ancient kitchen appliances, well-loved toys, and old musical instruments. There were piles of books stacked against the shelves, and boxes overflowing with old clothes. Miss Pratt might have been as old as dirt, but she’d used her many years to collect a treasure trove of weird stuff. Jamie had an appreciation for such things, and she was immediately drawn to the idea of working among the countless artifacts fighting for her attention.
“Cold outside?” Miss Pratt asked, shuffling a few steps closer.
She set her hand on a stack of comic books and waited for an answer. Her face was a mask of wrinkles and sagging flesh.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jamie said loudly. “I saw the sign on the front door, and was wondering about the job. . . .”
“You don’t have to yell,” Miss Pratt said. “Contrary to popular opinion, I’m not deaf.”
Miss Pratt stepped behind the counter and sat care- fully on an overstuffed pink chair. There was nowhere for Jamie to sit, so she just stood there, feeling awkward.
“Tell me a little bit about yourself,” Miss Pratt said, peering at Jamie through thick-rimmed glasses.
For the next ten minutes, Miss Pratt peppered Jamie with questions. She asked about her grades, her friends, where she went to church, what her parents did, where she lived, the names of her grandparents, and what she liked to do for fun. Finally, the old woman sighed with satisfaction.
“Well, Miss Hanover, I think you’ll do.” It had all happened so quickly, Jamie didn’t quite know what to say.
“Uh, thanks, Mrs. . . .”
“You can call me Miss Pratt.”
“Okay, great. Miss Pratt. When would you like me to start?”
“You already did,” Miss Pratt said softly, “but you can go home now. I’ll expect you back tomorrow right after school.”
Jamie held out her hand, barely able to contain her excitement.
“You won’t be sorry.”
“I hope you’re right,” Miss Pratt said, leaning forward and clutching Jamie’s hand.
The bright blue eyes narrowed, and Jamie felt a chill of nervousness. Had she done something wrong? Maybe she hadn’t gotten the job after all.
“Promise me you won’t take anything without asking.”
Jamie jerked her hand away and forced a smile.
“I promise,” she said.
Whatever second thoughts Jamie might have had were gone by the time she was out the front door. She paused on the sidewalk and smiled. She couldn’t believe her good fortune. This job was going to be perfect.
Over the next few weeks, Jamie arrived promptly at the Once Upon a Time Antique Store. She learned early on that Miss Pratt wasn’t a typical boss. She often barely talked to Jamie, giving her a few simple instructions and then letting her work on her own while she napped. When there were no customers—which was most of the time—Jamie kept busy cleaning, dusting, sorting, and organizing.
Jamie soon decided that “antique” was just a fancy name for overpriced junk. With one exception: the jewelry display cases, which were overflowing with rings, necklaces, earrings, and fancy hat pins. Wow was all Jamie could say when she first saw these treasures. Jamie couldn’t seem to spend enough time in that part of the store. There was always another ring to polish, or another bracelet to scrub, or another egg-size diamond, ruby, or emerald to admire.
Of course, it was all cheap costume jewelry. But Jamie thought these items were fantastic just the same.
And then it happened.
One afternoon, Jamie stumbled across the most beautiful ring she’d ever seen. It was lying in the bottom of a box that had been stuck beneath one of the display cases. She held the ring up to the light and marveled at the way it shimmered. She polished it until it sparkled like new, then reluctantly placed it inside the display case where she could keep an eye on it. From that moment on, Jamie couldn’t get the ring out of her head.
A week or so after finding it, Jamie happened to be dusting the jewelry display case. She lingered when she came close to the ring, glancing up to make sure the old woman was asleep in her chair. Then she slipped the ring on her finger, surprised by how perfectly it fit. Miss Pratt’s warning rang in her ears: Promise me you won’t take anything without asking.
It isn’t stealing, Jamie decided, her hands trembling with excitement. I’ll just be borrowing it for a little while. Miss Pratt won’t even notice. Jamie slipped the ring off and put it in her pocket, then scurried off to sort through a box of old toys on the other side of the store. She didn’t notice the faint movement of the old woman’s head, or the hint of a smile that touched her lips.
Two days later, Jamie took another ring. It was almost as beautiful as the first one. And that night, just before turning out the light and crawling into bed, she stared at the two rings sitting side by side on top of her dresser. I’m just borrowing the rings, she reminded herself.
A week later, the two rings had been joined on Jamie’s dresser by a gold bracelet, an antique watch, and a jewel-encrusted hairpin. By now, Jamie had completely forgotten about Miss Pratt’s warning, and as she worked that afternoon, she was trying to decide whether to add to her jewelry collection by “borrowing” a gold necklace with a ruby pendant. Maybe she’d just take it home, try it on, and decide....
“Jamie, would you come here, please?” Miss Pratt called out. Uh-oh.
Startled, Jamie dropped the necklace. For a heartbeat, she thought about running for the door. But then the impulse passed.
“Yes, ma’am?” Jamie answered, pasting a cheery smile on her face.
As usual, Miss Pratt was sitting in the overstuffed chair. She waited for Jamie to come close and then pointed to an old-fashioned mirror leaning up against the wall. It was oval and large, about three feet tall.
“I think you deserve a reward for all your hard work,” she said, her blue eyes glittering behind her glasses. “A beautiful girl needs a beautiful mirror.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” Jamie said with relief. Miss Pratt didn’t seem to be listening as she went on about the gift.
“I call this mirror the reflecting pool. I suspect it may have had other names, but I was never able to discover them.”
“Thanks, Miss Pratt,” Jamie said, eyeing the mirror. It looked heavy.
“What did you call it again?”
“The reflecting pool . . .”
Weird, Jamie thought.
When Jamie got home, she set the mirror on her dresser She had to admit it was kind of cool to look at, almost mesmerizing. It seemed to reflect things perfectly one moment, and then the next, the reflection would change and shift as if the mirror were made of water.
Jamie hopped off her bed and brushed her fingers lightly across the mirror’s surface, holding her breath as she did it. She half expected them to come back dripping wet. But it was only a mirror, after all. Just before she turned off her light, she gazed fondly at the jewelry lined up in front of the mirror.
“Lucky me,” she said softly.
The next morning, Jamie rolled out of bed, yawned loudly, and absentmindedly walked to the dresser. She reached out, searching for the things she’d taken.
“What the —?” she whispered.
The rings were gone. Jamie searched behind the mirror, and then dropped to her hands and knees and felt under the dresser. Nothing. Where could they be? She had no idea. Her room was on the second floor, the window painted shut long ago. She felt a flutter of panic as she remembered the old woman’s warning once more:
Promise me you won’t take anything without asking.
“This is bad,” she said.
Her mom’s voice drifted upstairs. “You’d better hurry or you’ll be late.”
“Be right there,” Jamie answered.
She spent a few more minutes looking and then quickly finished getting ready for school.
Jamie’s day dragged on as if it would never end. She struggled to stay focused as science, then math, then English passed in a haze. All she could think about was Miss Pratt’s wrinkled face as she repeated those awful words over and over. Don’t take anything without asking. Don’t! Don’t! Don’t!
When the bell finally rang, she was too afraid to go to work. She ran straight home, dropped her backpack on the floor, and flew up the stairs to her room. What she found made her feel faint. Not only were the rings still missing, now the bracelet was gone, too.
“What am I going to do?” she whispered out loud.
She gathered up the watch and the hairpin, placed them in a sock, and then lifted up a heating vent on the floor and stuffed the sock as far back into the duct as she could reach. They’d be safe there.
After dinner, Jamie’s parents went out for a movie. By the time Jamie returned to her room, she was alone in a dark house on a dark night. She entered her room as if it were no longer her own. It didn’t feel safe anymore. It felt like something was in there, waiting for her, watching her.
She opened the vent on the floor and pulled out the sock. It was empty. First the rings, then the bracelet, and now the watch. All gone! The only item that remained was the fancy hairpin, which had somehow found its way to the dresser, where it sat next to a random collection of objects beneath the mirror.
“How did you get all the way over there?” Jamie said, walking quietly across the room. When she arrived at the dresser, she stared at the hairpin.
Then she felt a strange wind begin to blow in the room.
Where was it coming from?
