The Mermaid's Mirror

Chapter 2

Lena began to feel uneasy the moment she saw the building. Impossibly tall, it stretched up into the sky like a giant steel beanstalk. As she tilted her head back to try to see the top, her stomach gave a little lurch.

"Here it is," said her father, looking as proud as if he'd built it. "Come on." He pushed through a revolving glass door.

Lena followed more slowly.

"Wait till you see the office—you won't believe it," he said, stepping onto an escalator. When they reached the top, he greeted the security guard and headed for a bank of elevators marked1 6–30.

Lena could see that he was trying to be cool, but he was bouncing up and down on his toes slightly as they waited for the elevator.

The doors of the elevator slid open, and a rush of power suits, briefcases, and expensive haircuts streamed past them.

Lena's dad pulled at the cuffs of his white oxford shirt, as if to make sure they covered his tattoos. His blond hair curled over the collar of his shirt.

He's probably going to get one of those stockbroker haircuts now, thought Lena. Sad.

They stepped onto the elevator, and a woman in a crisp business suit stepped on behind them, fingers flying on her cell phone. She punched the elevator button for 27.

As the doors whooshed shut, her father said to Lena, "Push the button for twenty-nine."

"Really?" said Lena. "Twenty-nine?"

He nodded, beaming. "Practically in the clouds."

The woman glanced at Lena's dad, her gaze lingering. She closed her cell phone.

Lena was used to women ogling her dad. Her mom called him a computer nerd trapped in the body of a hot guy.

Reaching for the 29 button, Lena said, "Wow, Dad. Practically the penthouse. Or do they just want to keep you far away from the general public?" She pressed the button. A moment later, her stomach dropped as the elevator shot up. She reached out to grasp the handrail at the back of the elevator. "Why is it ... so fast?" she asked, feeling as if she couldn't catch her breath.

"This express elevator only goes between the sixteenth and the thirtieth floors," said her father. He grinned, his blue eyes shining. "Fast, huh? Did you leave your stomach on the first floor? Lena?"

She closed her eyes and held tighter to the handrail. Almost there, she told herself. Just hold on.

"Lena? What's wrong?"

She couldn't answer. There was a growing pressure in her ears.

"Selena." She felt her father's hand on her arm.

"Are you okay?" shrilled the woman.

The elevator halted with a ding, and the doors opened at 27.

Lena clung to the handrail, trying to catch her breath.

The woman moved toward the exit, looking concerned. "Do you want to get off?" She held the doors open.

Lena shook her head.

The woman took her hand away, and the doors slid shut.

"Honey, what's going on?" asked her dad.

The elevator rose, and the pressure in Lena's ears ballooned.

Ding. 29.

Lena stumbled out. The floor seemed to tilt under her feet. She opened her mouth in a yawning motion to clear the pressure in her ears. "Nothing," she said finally. "I just felt weird for a second."

"You did? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." She shrugged away from his hand. "Let's just go see your new office, okay?"

He studied her for another moment, then nodded. "Okay. Then we'll get an early lunch. Did you eat this morning?"

"Dad, I eat every morning." Hadn't he seen her sitting at the breakfast table, eating the same English muffin and yogurt she always ate? No, he'd been too buzzed about visiting the office. And of course Cole was yammering on about football, and Mom was muttering about caterers (she was an events planner), so Dad had been distracted, to say the least.

They reached a pair of heavy glass doors, with two ws etched on them, and stepped into the reception area. A gray-haired man was speaking to the receptionist and turned to glance at them.

"Brian." The man approached, hand outstretched. "You made it. Good."

Lena's father shook the man's hand. "Don. Good morning," he said, his voice deepening into what Lena thought of as Dad's I'm-Being-Serious-Now voice. "This is my daughter, Lena. Lena, this is Mr. Wolinsky."

Wolinsky and Wellman Consultants. Must be one of the bosses, she thought. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Wolinsky."

"Call me Don, please." He smiled. "We're all looking forward to working with your father."

She smiled, too. "Great."

"This is Karen," continued Don, indicating the receptionist.

"Nice to meet you, Lena," she said. "What lovely hair! You have your father's blond hair."

"Thanks."

"In ten years I probably won't have any of it left," her father said, chuckling. "I'll have to look at Lena to remind myself what it looked like."

Lena cringed.

Karen laughed. She held up a bowl of M&M's. "I always offer candy to the kids when they visit, but I guess you're not a kid anymore, are you? Let me see—are you fourteen? Or fifteen?"

"I turn sixteen next week," said Lena. She took a couple of M&M's. "Thank you."

"Oh!" said Karen. "You're so petite, I guessed too young." She winked. "When you're my age, you'll appreciate that."

The three adults shared a slightly-too-hearty laugh, and Lena smiled, putting the M&M's in her mouth so she wouldn't have to respond.

"Well," said the Boss Guy. "Shall we give Lena the grand tour?" He turned to lead them down the hall.

The guy—Don, Lena reminded herself—introduced Lena to the other people in the office, most of whom had already met her father. Lena thought it was the politest group of people she had ever met, everyone smiling and saying nice things about her dad.

"Let's take a look at the view from my office," said Don.

Lena followed them into a spacious corner office, dominated by a floor-to-ceiling window that curved around the edge of the building.

"Come look, Lena," said her dad. "Isn't this something?"

She stood next to him, the glass of the window so crystal clear that it seemed as if they were standing at the edge of the twenty-ninth floor with no window in front of them ... nothing to keep them from falling. She took a breath and looked down. Cars and taxis, buses, and bicycles flowed up and down the streets, advancing and stopping in a traffic dance. People moved along the sidewalks, colorful and distant. There was a grassy park across the street, ringed with trees and flowers. A bubbling fountain was the centerpiece of the park, with a bunch of little kids running around it in circles. San Francisco Bay glinted in the distance.

Lena's face grew warm, and a light sweat broke out on her forehead. It felt like the building was swaying, as if in a heavy wind. But the flag on the flagpole across the street hung slack.

She lifted a hand, as if to hold on to something. But there was nothing there. She focused on the park across the street to regain her perspective. The water in the fountain sparkled and splashed, sparkled and splashed. As she watched, suddenly she felt like she might plummet out the window, not falling straight down, but sailing through empty air like a bird, against all laws of gravity, until she crashed into that bubbling fountain.

The pressure in her ears returned, along with a roaring sound.

Lena opened her mouth, trying to take in more air. The back of her neck felt hot, and she thought, Oh, no—I'm going to throw up in front of my dad's new boss!

She fell forward against the glass, which was suddenly hard and reassuring under her palms.

Darkness swam into her eyes, and the last thing she heard was her father calling her name from far away.