The Magic Mirror of the Mermaid Queen - Delia Sherman [57]
The mirror didn’t care about my feelings. Its magic was to show me what was real.
In fact, I hadn’t turned into a monster or a toad. I was still plain ordinary-looking. Being ordinary might make me a monster to someone like Madame Factor—or Stonewall—but it shouldn’t matter to a hero. Maybe a real hero didn’t have to be as beautiful as the day, as long as she was as sharp as a drawerful of knives.
What I couldn’t decide was whether or not I actually believed that.
Next day, Stonewall had lunch with the Downtown artists and Danskin sat with the Lincoln Center crowd. The rest of us talked about school stuff. Nobody mentioned Tiffany or Hallowe’en costumes. The day after that, I walked into the lunchroom and saw Stonewall sitting at the East Siders’ table, next to Bergdorf.
I felt weird. More mad than hurt, disgusted that he’d turned out to be such a jerk. I felt like an idiot, too, because I’d liked him.
I sat where I didn’t have to look at Stonewall making up to Bergdorf, but I could still hear him saying things like “Ooh, sweetie. How sick-making!” and “What was she thinking? Blue is not your color” and “Of course I’ll help you with your Hallowe’en costume. Ugly stepsister, you said? We can do a lot with that.”
“Neef,” Fortran said crabbily, “are you listening to me at all? Because I’ve been working on your mirror thing, and it would be nice if you even pretended to be interested.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I am interested. It’s just—”
Fortran gave an impatient bounce. “Forget it, Neef. Stonebrain’s under an evil spell or something. Nobody cares what you look like.”
“Way to go, Talis-man,” Espresso said. “Now she feels a lot better.”
I resisted the impulse to kick Fortran under the table. “It’s okay,” I said. “So. What do you have?”
Fortran zipped open one of Backpack’s tiny pockets, pulled out a palm-sized magic tablet, and laid it on the table. Espresso, Mukuti, and I scooched around so we could see better.
Fortran fiddled with the tablet. It filled with numbers and symbols.
“Very cool, Fortran,” I said. “What is it?”
“It’s a magic formula. Magic Techs use them to design new magic talismans for the Folk to make. I think I’ve figured out a new use for them. You wanna hear?”
“You know we won’t dig it like you want us to,” Espresso said. “Just lay the bottom line on us.”
Fortran called up another screen, headed “The Mirror’s Travels.” On it was a list of names:
1. nymph
2. goblin
3. dwarf
4. Snowbell
5. Elizabeth Factor
6. Tiffany
I tapped Tiffany’s name. “How can you be sure? I mean, it could be Bergdorf or Best, or even some random blonde Deb we don’t even know.”
“I’ve checked everything a billion times,” Fortran said, “and it always comes out Tiffany. You gotta believe me. Tech doesn’t lie.”
“Fair enough.” I looked back at the tablet. “Can that thing tell us what happened to her?”
Fortran deflated slightly. “Not as such,” he said. “But it does say that there’s a 99.98 percent chance that Bergdorf knows.”
“Which means I have to talk to Bergdorf.” I sighed. “At least I know where to find her.”
Knowing where to find Bergdorf didn’t make talking to her any easier. She avoided me like I was some kind of disease demon, making sure I never caught her alone. But I kept shadowing her, and late on the third day after Stonewall’s personality change, after the final horn, I saw her go into the library.
I waited a moment, then slipped in the door. At the checkout desk, the Librarian was asleep in her comfy chair with the library cat draped around her shoulders like a furry neck pillow. Both of them were snoring like whistles.
I looked around. Bergdorf must have gone to the hidden window seat at the back of the room.
I padded carefully through the stacks until I heard Bergdorf’s voice, soft and low, so as not to wake