Jenny hates the mirror girl.
She hates the way she is always there when she looks at the far wall, glaring into her brown eyes. She hates the mirror girl’s walk, ungraceful and shuffling. Jenny bends and stretches, staring at the girl who does nothing more than calmly return her glare. She tries to project her thoughts of hate and rage into Mirror Girl’s mind while attempting to make her pirouettes as graceful as possible.
The mirror girl does the same, and the ringing in Jenny’s ears grows louder. She musn’t stare too long, or her teacher will become suspicious. Jenny looks down, pretending to smooth out an imaginary wrinkle on her pink chiffon skirt as Madame Broulliard explains yet another combination to learn. But she is inexplicably drawn back, just to look and see if Mirror Girl is still watching her.
“And you raise your hands like so and…”
(QUIT STARING.)
Jenny is shocked. She can hear Mirror Girl’s voice as clear as a bell, feeling like it’s coming from the middle of her brain and resonating throughout her skull. Her eyes widen, as do Mirror Girl’s in a grotesque parody of Jenny’s facial expression.
“Jenny? Are you alright?” Madame’s high, accented voice drifts across the room, shaking Jenny out of her shock and terror. The other girls are snickering softly behind their hands as Jenny blushes and nods. She begins dancing again and is again distracted by Mirror Girl’s malicious comments.
(You ‘re failing. Again. YOU FAIL. Give up, Jenny!)
“Go away,” she whispers
(Why ? So you can push yourself to the edge and give up again? Just DO IT. Go.)
“I don’t want to anymore…”
(but whyever not, little girl? You’ve brought yourself to the brink so many times… So close, I can practically smell your rotting corpse as we speak. GO! The window is there. Jump, damn you. JUMP!)
The ringing grows louder and Jenny begins shaking like a leaf. She stares out the fourth-story window overlooking the street. Every time she comes here, she considers throwing herself out that window. Or shoving a peanut butter cup down her anaphylactic throat. Or any of the many other deaths that could befall her in the dance studio. She has been teetering on the brink of destruction for nearly a year, but the tide seems to almost pass… until Mirror Girl resurfaces, with even more scathing remarks than before.
“Leave me alone, leave me alone…” she can barely breathe, let alone manage the choked squeal that is escaping her throat.. By now, the other girls have stopped dancing and are watching her. She is entirely oblivious of their faces full of false concern and interest. She stares at the window, where she sees Mirror Girl again. She smiles, a vile twisted impression of a grin. The ringing is deafening. Jenny suddenly takes notice of the other girls. Why could no one else hear it?
(Go , you ugly bitch. There’s nothing here for you. Go now before you fail again-)
Jenny screams, a high keening wail that could curdle blood. She runs, unstopped by Madame and the other students who are too shocked to do anything. She throws herself toward the plate-glass window, still screaming. The ringing grows louder still, threatening to burst her eardrums as she plummets through the air, arms extended.
She smiles her last smile knowing she’ll never hear the mirror girl again.