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“You’ll get it in a minute,” she said.

Jackson leaned back, lying down on the sleeping bag. Meeka handed him a purple velvet cushion edged

in gold trim, which he thanked her for and tucked comfortably under his head. His eyes focused on the swaying lantern.

And then Jackson had a good think.

I can’t tell you how long he thought because time seems to fly or alternatively stop when you have a good think, and seeing as how Jackson wasn’t timing himself, I have no idea. And it’s completely irrelevant. What is relevant is that he took the time to think and some things need time to be thought about. So if you have something worth thinking about, I strongly suggest you get thinking on your own big think. I am delighted to tell you that he got it. But I can’t tell you how Jackson got it. I can’t even tell you what he was thinking about when he came to the point of getting it. But he got it. And it made sense. One day when you have the time and you can think about it, you’ll get it too.

“Oh, I get it now!” Jackson exclaimed, sitting up. Meeka clapped her hands joyfully and handed him her snotty tissue. Ech. Jackson took it delicately and placed it on the floor. He turned to Eleissa.

“So can you tell me what the Author is doing now?”

Eleissa flipped the page. “The Author changes the tracks of his funky jazz music, puts his red glasses on, and asks for another latte.”

Jackson grinned. He didn’t get it. But he got it.

“So, now that you’ve started to understand the Author, is there anything else you want to know?” Eleissa asked.

Jackson thought for a moment. Eleissa glanced down at the book.

“No, don’t ask me that,” she said.

“Stop that!” Then he thought some more.

“The mirrors in the hall,” he started. “I saw me, but I was…older and smarter and better and stronger…”

Eleissa nodded.

“…but how do I get there?” he finished.

Eleissa delicately fingered the book pages, not looking at him. “Jackson, I can’t answer that for you.”

“What do you mean? Of course you can! Just read ahead, or give me the book and I’ll read it!” and he held out his hand to take the book.

Eleissa shook her head, her bangs falling into her eyes. Her nose twitched at him.

“I can’t let you read it,” she said slowly.

“What? Why not?”

“Because I’m the Reader. It’s my job to read, and you aren’t allowed to read it,” she explained, shrugging her shoulders.

Jackson snatched the book from her hands and opened it.

It was blank.

“That’s not fair!” he yelled, throwing the book down. It hit the floor with a heavy thud.

Eleissa nodded austerely. (Austerely is without humor. Like when you’ve just dumped your glass of milk on the dog’s head, and your mother catches you and gives you that look.) “Life is not fair. But that’s the way it goes. You aren’t supposed to read your own future. If you did, you would be horrified and excited and glad and angry and sad all at the same time.” She carefully picked up the book, smoothing the creased edges.

Jackson threw himself down on the sleeping bag with a huff. He was angry. But he was also very tired. No one said anything for a long time. Eleissa even stopped reading. They just sat there quietly.

After some time, Jackson sat up. “Can you at least tell me if what I saw in the mirrors is true?”

Eleissa looked fixedly at Jackson, wrapping her blonde hair around a small finger. “What you see is who you are. If you don’t see that, then you’re not who you are anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, exasperated.

“What did you see in the mirrors?”

“Well, I was captain of the baseball team. I was a professor at the University. I won the Thompson Award.”

“Did you like what you saw?”

“Well, of course I did! That’s who I want to be! Those are…” Jackson gulped. “Those are my dreams,” he whispered.

“Jackson, who’s to say that’s not who you are now?”

“But…”

Who indeed was to say that wasn’t who he was? Just because the kids at school called him names didn’t mean they were true. He was a terrible ball player, but he loved to play. And the mirror showed him as captain of the team! Those