“The most deeply held religious practices are those we don’t realize we’re engaged in… The ritual of placing candles on a cake, making a wish, and blowing them out embodies the same symbolic pattern of prayers and the ascent of smoke in numerous traditional ceremonies...”

  --Eric Lyman

  Me? No, she’s not me.

  Sadie’s palms pressed hard against the surface of the mirror.

  Except...there was no surface. There was no glass. There was only the soft, cool skin of the palms of her reflection. The reflection that was her—but...not. The reflection was more perfect. Pristine.

  Their eyes locked.

  The reflection’s fingers shifted out of alignment, interlacing with Sadie’s, locking on and pulling, pulling her forward, into the mirror. Sadie dug her heels in. She knew if she crossed that boundary—if she shattered that boundary...then what? She didn’t know exactly, but she was terrified of it, whatever it was.

  The reflection pulled harder, fingers digging painfully into the backs of her hands. The nameless fear screaming in her head drove her to a frenzy—she wouldn’t go in, she couldn’t go in—

  Sadie wrenched herself free and bolted. She ran as fast as she could, through the strange house, out into the unfamiliar streets, running until her legs began to feel weighed down, heavier and heavier, like slogging through thicker and thicker mud until finally she couldn’t move at all, she was pinned to the ground. And then all she could see was wet pavement and above her, a black, starless sky.

  “Find me, Sadie.” The voice whispering in her ear sounded exactly like her own.

  She jolted awake, soaked in a cold sweat. Her heart raced as she glanced at the clock: 4:43 a.m. Turning over, she caught her reflection staring back at her from the vanity mirror, half-obscured by shadows. With a groan, she pulled the covers over her head.

  Why can’t I just go through the stupid mirror?

  The dream had started weeks ago, always the same, always terrifying.

  It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream, it’s just a dream...

  Only, it didn’t feel like a dream. It felt like a vision. Especially the voice. It was so real—it sounded like it was right there next to her.

  “Find me.”

  Sadie couldn’t shake the words. They gnawed at her, feeling less like a request and more like a divine mandate. Every night, after each repetition of the dream, she was more and more convinced that she had to go through the mirror. That it was the only way to...to what?

  Whenever she woke from the dream, she couldn’t understand why she was so afraid. Her waking self insisted that it would be a good thing to go through the mirror, to become her own reflection. Don’t you want to be your real self? Don’t you want to be perfect? It seemed so obvious.

  But inside the dream, it was a different story.

  What am I so afraid of?

  She rolled over, tucking the blanket tightly around her. As she drifted back into sleep, the words echoed ghostly in her mind.

  Find me, Sadie.

  I will, her drowsing mind answered. I will.

  The clock read 11:14 AM. Sadie’s house was empty—perfect for what she had planned. Her dad was at work. Her mom was out grocery shopping. Her brother, Eli, was off playing baseball or something. It was her birthday, and she was preparing for her ritual.

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  She flipped through the “Necessary Supplies” section of her borrowed library copy, Bridging Worlds: A Comprehensive Guide to Holding a Séance, making absolutely certain she had everything she needed.

  “Choose a time and place significant to the person with whom you’re making contact,” the text instructed.

  The date that was most obviously significant to Sadie, so maybe significant to ideal Sadie, was her birthday. So, check. And as far as place: her bedroom was the best place, since it was her favorite place, her sanctuary. Check. Birthday cakes have candles (another séance essential), so what better way to make contact with her true self than by throwing her own birthday séance? It was perfectly strange, just the way she liked it. Another check.

  She stepped to the vanity, blotting blanche-white foundation onto her face. If a ghost were to appear at the seance, Sadie might be the paler of the two. Then came the dark eye shadow, followed by black eye liner, and deep red lipstick. She took the curlers out of her dark brown hair and let it fall loose to her shoulders. Her dress was white with black polka-dots, with a tight push-up bodice guaranteed to make those idiot boys stare like the morons they were. The tiny waist was cinched with a blood-red plastic belt, and black stockings and black high heels showed off her long legs.

  Stepping back, she took a look in the full-length mirror on the wall and allowed herself a small smile. Perfectly strange. Just how she liked it.

  She headed down to the kitchen. Rummaging through the drawers, she found some birthday candles and matches. In the fridge, she found the birthday cake her mom had picked up last night. Because Sadie had no friends, it would just be her family singing “Happy Birthday” and watching her blow out the candles tonight.

  But she could care less about that. She grabbed the cake from the fridge and carried it back into her room, carefully placing it on the center of the floor. She closed the door and turned out the lights, leaving only small slivers of light bleeding in from the sides of the curtains and the cracks around the door.

  She picked up the box of candles and sat on the floor opposite the standing mirror, in full view of herself. The cake was chocolate with pink frosting and white lettering, Happy Birthday Sadie!!! Her mom used exclamations points like they were heroin. While she stuck the candles in the cake, she heard a bird chirp outside, a reminder that outside the dark room it was still only mid-day. She struck a match, lighting each candle. Something about candlelight made everything feel more silent and solemn, even when the candles were in a birthday cake.

  The flickering light played eerily across her features. Her darkened reflection, and the contrast of dark makeup and white foundation made her look like a ghost of herself. She closed her eyes and cleared her mind, just as the library book instructed.

  After a minute, she took a deep inhale and began, “We are here…”

  She stopped, then began again in the singular. She was alone, after all. “I, Sadie Samuels, am here to make contact with…Sadie Samuels.” She paused for dramatic effect, then raising her voice, proclaimed, “Will the real Sadie Samuels please make her presence known!”

  The candles flickered violently. A rush of air filled the room, and goosebumps sprung up the back of Sadie’s arms and neck. Someone was watching her. Something felt wrong. Someone was standing just at the corner of Sadie’s eye. She turned.

  “Mom!” Sadie screamed at the sight of her mom standing there in the doorway, hands on her hips, watching her.

  “Get out! Close the door!” said Sadie.

  Her mom made an awkward little hop backwards into the hallway and shut the door. There was a long silent pause while Sadie stared at the door, waiting for her mom’s shadow to disappear.

  “Go away!” she called. There was another pause, then a deep breath, and then Mrs. Samuels turned the knob and cracked the door open, just enough to be heard.

  “Honey, when you’re done, could you please just—”

  “Mom! Get out! Close the door!”

  “Could you please just get your little brother when you’re done? There’s going to be a storm.”

  “UGGHHH! Yes! Fine! Now close the door!”

  “And also, please save some cake for your father. He was really looking forward to having some when he got home.”

  Beneath the pure white foundation, Sadie’s face was on fire. She sat with wide and unbelieving eyes, glaring furiously at the door that was still open—and her mom still waiting for an answer.

  “Okay, yes! Cake for Dad! Got it!”

  Then the door was, finally, quietly and carefully closed, and her mom’s footsteps faded away down the hall.

  Sadie sat still for a moment, trying to regain her composure. But her mind wouldn’t let go of what had just happened. And now she also had the distraction of hearing her mother patter around the house while she was trying to invite spirits in from an alternate plane...or however it worked.

  What is she even doing here? she thought. She’s supposed to be shopping.

  But Sadie had waited for weeks to do this. She wasn’t going to give up so easily. Again, she centered her focus on one of the candle’s flames. Once focused, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. On the exhale she started, “I Sadie, am here, to make contact with myself. If my true self is here, let her make her presence known...”

  VRRRRRRRRRRRRMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM...Downstairs, the vacuum cleaner roared into life.

  “UGGHH, really?”

  She looked down at the cake, at the glimmering pools of melted wax forming around the base of each candle. She felt so stupid now—stupid for believing a séance was any kind of way to find herself. Was it too much to wish for? In her heart, all she wanted was to make contact with the Sadie she saw in her dream. Was that too much to ask?

  With a long sigh of defeat, she blew out the candles and watched as the coiling smoke lifted upwards.

  So much for the séance, she thought.