Traveler by L.E. DeLano (book suggestions .txt) 📕

to be plucked. Crap. I’d better remember to do that tonight before bed, if I have time after studying for the quiz in Spanish. My mind begins to drift, but I keep looking firmly at my own face, staring myself down until I feel sure that I’ve lost the ability to focus my eyes. I struggle back to reality, forcing myself not to zone out.

And then she blinks.

She blinks.

The other Jessa.

I draw in a startled breath and I’m about to turn away when Finn’s hands come up to hold my head, keeping my face to the mirror.

“Steady,” he murmurs quietly. “Keep looking. What else is different?”

I stare long and hard now, taking in every little nuance of the face in front of me, seeing the reflection as it really is: not me. What is that high on her left cheek? As I look harder, it seems to bloom before my eyes. It is a scar, semicircular and faded but visible.

The white paper-towel holder on the wall begins to shimmer, transforming before my eyes into a highly polished chrome. The one boring picture of a coffee mug in a brown wooden frame begins to fade, then grow, becoming larger and brighter until it changes into a brightly colored tapestry filled with bronze and copper colors, hanging from an enormous glittering golden bar attached to the wall.

“How…?” I don’t know what to say, much less what to do from here.

“Don’t question, Jessa. Just push through. Go ahead.”

I hesitate a moment. “You’ll come, too?”

“I’ll be right there with you. Promise.”

I start to press my fingers in, and the glass now feels like stiff rubber. I take a deep, shaky breath and push harder. My hand slips through more easily this time, like pushing into a tightly pulled rubber band, but without the rebound effect. My arm follows my hand, and before I know it, the rest of me seems to just step through until I am there.

Wherever there is.

10

All That Glitters

I’m in a golden restroom. Instead of the lone porcelain toilet, there’s a gilded, monstrous throne with an ornate braided pull rope hanging above it. A crystal chandelier hangs overhead and the walls are chrome, polished to a high shine. Light bounces off every surface, even the golden sink, blinding me and making me blink my eyes.

“What the—?” I let go of his hand, pressing my palms into my eyes. “Sheesh. This is a bit much.”

“They’re big on flair over here,” Finn says. “It doesn’t change the coffee much, but wait until you see the baked goods.”

“So what happens to her?” I ask. “The other Jessa?”

“Simple,” Finn says. “She’s you. She’s just in your reality now.”

“Won’t everyone notice she’s different?”

“No.”

“I don’t understand. She’s not really me.”

“Yes, she is,” he explains. “You’re still you, no matter where you go. You’re just you reacting to different circumstances. And because you’re a Traveler, you’re more aware of yourself than most. The things that make you essentially you will always be preserved because of that. You also gain all her knowledge and she gains all yours the minute you transfer. You’ll bring up the memories as you need them.”

“This is seriously confusing. You know that, right? Some of this … it’s just beyond comprehension.”

He gives me a slight smile. “You get used to it. I’m trying not to overload you with too much at once. Come on. Let’s see what’s cooking on this side of the mirror.”

“Wait,” I say. “I’m not going to encounter an evil version of everyone, am I? My parents and Danny aren’t going to have goatees or anything, right?”

Finn shrugs. “How do I know? Let’s go see.”

He reaches for the door handle, and as he opens it, a woman in a shiny silver coat guiding a young child steps back from where she’d been waiting to get into the restroom. She sees me coming out from behind Finn and gives us both a look that should incinerate us.

Finn gives her a nod that can only be described as regal, and I clap my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing as he pulls me past her and over to the counter.

“Oh my God,” I say, in a hushed whisper. “She thinks we were…”

“Yes, she does.”

He threads his fingers through mine and gives my hand a squeeze. We make our way to the front counter, and I can’t stop looking at the glittering lights and polished chrome walls. Finn reaches up with his other hand and turns my head so that I’m looking full-on at the array of baked goods on display in a shining golden case with ornate prism crystal shelves.

Once again, I am dazzled. Everything looks like it was the prizewinning dessert on a Food Network showdown. There are brownies with gold leaf glittering on the top, cupcakes that sparkle and stand six inches high with shimmering, fluffy frosting over gilded golden wrappers. The cookies are glowing under the lights with silver and gold chips, and they’re easily the size of my outstretched hand.

Finn nods to the girl behind the counter. “Two chocolate spice specials and two bowls of glitter mousse, please.”

“No mocha with cinnamon?” I ask, still drooling over the cupcakes.

“That’s not what they call it here. Think about it a moment—the memory will come to you.”

He’s right, and it does. Cinnamon is just referred to as “spice” here.

He pays the girl and takes our tray of treats, motioning me toward a booth in the corner with a tilt of his head. I slide in, staring at the small, circular pot of sparkling stuff in front of me. It looks like whipped cream, but in an eye-popping shade of silvery blue.

“Glitter mousse?” I ask. “What flavor is this?”

He shoves a spoonful in his mouth.

“Glitter,” he says, raising his eyebrows.

I take a dab on the tip of my spoon and slide it into my mouth. The flavor explodes on my tongue, sweet and tart and screamingly delicious. My eyes are literally rolling back in my head.

“Mmmmmmmm!”

“Told you so,” he says. “Now