Page 12 of Hex Appeal
“Hey, Nate!” called a cheerleader with a bounce in her step and a hand brushing my arm as she passed.
I gave her my best easy smile, felt the warm ripple of attention follow me down the hallway. It was almost too easy, this feeding, a touch here, a laugh there. Each little spark knitted me deeper into Nate’s life, threading my presence into the fabric of this place until it would be hard to pull me out without tearing something vital.
The air was so thick with life. I could taste the cafeteria’s burnt coffee from three classrooms away. The smell of cheap floor polish clung to the air after the janitor’s cart rolled past, sharp and a little sweet. Even the echoes of voices in the hall had weight to them, bouncing in my chest before fading. In the Mirror Realm, sound was hollow; you could clap your hands and feel it vanish before it reached your ears.
I slipped into the cafeteria. The clatter of trays, the sharp tang of ketchup, the sweet warmth of apple pie cooling on the counter was dizzying, intoxicating. Every sound and scent wrapped around me like a living thing. This was life, messy, loud, and delicious. The Mirror Realm could never touch it.
In the reflection of the juice machine, Jess appeared again, this time glancing over her shoulder as if she’d felt me watching. Our eyes met in the glass. I let my smile sharpen a fraction, just enough to make her hesitate.
The best thing about mirrors is that they’re never one-way. Even better, Jess hadn’t figured out yet that I could push back.
Back in the trophy case reflection, her bedroom came into view again. She had stopped the exercise, sitting cross-legged on her bed, chewing her lip the way she did when she was thinking too hard. For a heartbeat, I considered stepping through right then, showing her how close I could get whenever I wanted. That would spoil the fun, though.
Instead, I stayed where I was, weaving myself deeper into this world. Every second here was a thread in the net I was casting around her life. Soon, she’d have to decide whether she wanted to cut it, or let me pull her in.
Chapter 8
Jess
By the time I got to school the next morning, I could feel Etan everywhere. He was in the quick glances people gave me in the hallway. In the way the reflections in trophy cases seemed to shimmer a half-second too long. Even in the faint hum under the cafeteria chatter, like someone whispering my name just out of earshot.
Etan had been in the mirrors again, I could tell. Which meant he’d seen me, heard me, maybe even read the pages of my open notebook when I wasn’t looking.
If there was one thing I wasn’t going to do, it was go on a date with a mirror creature who might be slowly erasing my crush from existence.
Which is exactly why, ten minutes after school ended, I was standing on the Hallowell Bay boardwalk with Etan.
In my defence, he’d asked in front of half the cafeteria and somehow made, ‘just a walk’ sound like a dare. Also, Bianca had texted me ‘do it for research’ in all caps about seven times.
The boardwalk was already buzzing with summer tourists. Kids were running for the carousel, and the smell of fried dough and saltwater taffy curled through the air. Etan walked beside me, hands in his hoodie pocket, glancing around like he was cataloguing every sensation.
“You come here a lot?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said. “If by a lot you mean once every two years, when I forget how overpriced everything is.”
He laughed, and it was so real, so easy, that I almost forgot why I was here.
Then, the popcorn machine outside the snack stand exploded. Not in a dangerous way. in a raining buttery kernels over the entire sidewalk way. Etan looked almost innocent.
“What?” he said. “I like popcorn.”
We wandered past the arcade, where the lights flickered in time with his steps, and a busker’s guitar shifted mid-song into something slow and romantic without him touching the strings. Every little trick seemed designed to show me what Etan could do, and how much fun it was.
We passed another arcade, and a claw machine lit up as we walked by. The claw jerked to life on its own, scooping up a lopsided plush octopus and dropping it into the prize slot without anyone touching the controls.
“For you,” Etan said, handing it over like it was the most natural thing in the world.
A gull wheeled overhead, then froze mid-flight, wings outstretched, as if someone had pressed pause on reality. I stared, wide-eyed, until it beat its wings again and soared away.
Every step with him felt like stepping into a version of Hallowell Bay where the universe bent itself to please me. That was the problem—part of me wanted to see just how far he’d go.
“You’re dangerous,” I muttered.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
We’d been weaving through the crowd, Etan effortlessly charming every vendor we passed, when he steered me into a narrow space between the saltwater taffy stand and the back wall of the old carousel. The music was loud there, muffled by the thick wooden panels, but the crowd noise faded. It was just the two of us in the strip of shadow.
Before I could step out, he moved, one hand braced beside my head, the other still holding the ridiculous plush octopus he’d ‘won’ for me.
