The Secret of Ella and Micha

later…

    Ella
    I despise mirrors. Not because I hate my reflection or that I suffer from Eisoptrophobia. Mirrors see straight through my façade. They know who I used to be; a loud spoken, reckless girl, who showed what she felt to the world. There were no secrets with me.
    But now secrets define me.
    If a reflection revealed what was on the outside, I’d be okay. My long auburn hair goes well with my pale complexion. My legs are extensively long and with heels, I’m taller than most of the guys I know. But I’m comfortable with it. It’s what’s buried deep inside that frightens me because it’s broken, like a shattered mirror.
    I tape one of my old sketches over the mirror on the dorm wall. It’s almost completely concealed by drawings and obscures all of my reflection except for my green eyes, which are frosted with infinite pain and secrets.
    I pull my hair into a messy bun and place my charcoaled pencils into a box on my bed, packing them with my other art supplies.
    Lila skips into the room with a cheery smile on her face and a drink in her hand. “Oh my God! Oh my God! I’m so glad it’s over.”
    I pick up a roll of packing tape off the dresser. “Oh my God! Oh my god!” I joke. “What are you drinking?”
    She tips the cup at me and winks. “Juice, silly. I’m just really excited to be getting a break. Even if it does mean I have to go home.” She tucks strands of her hair behind her ear and tosses a makeup bag into her purse. “Have you seen my perfume?”
    I point at the boxes on her bed. “I think you packed them in one of those. Not sure which one, though, since you didn’t label them.”
    She pulls a face at me. “Not all of us can be neat freaks. Honestly, Ella, sometimes I think you have OCD.”
    I write “Art Supplies” neatly on the box and click the cap back on the sharpie. “I think you might be on to me,” I joke.
    “Dang it.” She smells herself. “I really need it. All this heat is making me sweat.” She rips some photos off her dresser mirror and throws them into an open box. “I swear it’s like a hundred and ten outside.”
    “I think it’s actually hotter than that.” I set my school work in the trash, all marked with A’s. Back in High School, I used to be a C student. I hadn’t really planned on going to college, but life changes—people change.
    Lila narrows her blue eyes at my mirror. “You do know that we’re not going to have the same dorm when we come back in the fall, so unless you take all your artwork off, it’s just going to be thrown out by the next person.”
    They’re just a bunch of doodles; sketches of haunting eyes, black roses entwined by a bed of thorns, my name woven in an intricate pattern. None of them matter except one: a sketch of an old friend, playing his guitar. I peel that one off, careful not to tear the corners.
    “I’ll leave them for the next person,” I say and add a smile. “They’ll have a predecorated room.”
    “I’m sure the next person will actually want to look in the mirror.” She folds up a pink shirt. “Although, I don’t know why you want to cover up the mirror. You’re not ugly, El.”
    “It’s not about that.” I stare at the drawing that captures the intensity in Micha’s eyes.
    Lila snatches the drawing from my hands, crinkling the edges a little. “One day you’re going to have to tell me who this gorgeous guy is.”
    “He’s just some guy I used to know.” I steal the drawing back. “But we don’t talk anymore.”
    “What’s his name?” She stacks a box next to the door.
    I place the drawing into the box and seal it with a strip of tape. “Why?”
    She shrugs. “Just wondering.”
    “His name is Micha.” It’s the first time I’ve said his name aloud, since I left home. It hurts, like a rock lodged in my throat. “Micha Scott.”
    She glances over my shoulder as she piles the rest of her clothes into a box. “There’s a lot of passion in that drawing. I just don’t see him as being some guy. Is he like an old boyfriend or something?”
    I drop my duffel bag, packed with my clothes, next to the door. “No, we never dated.”
    She eyes me over with doubt. “But you came close to dating? Right?”
    “No. I told you we were just friends.” But only because I wouldn’t let us be anything more. Micha saw too much of me and it scared me too much to let him in all the way.
    She twists her strawberry blonde hair into a ponytail and fans her face. “Micha is an