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“But you did! Because you had eyes only for her!”
The man laughed a little. “You’re jealous!”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Oh, great! A couple in the middle of a lovers’ tiff. This could go on forever. I’d be kicking my heels behind this curtain until I traveled back and suddenly materialized in front of the windows in Mrs. Counter’s geography lesson. Maybe I could tell her I’d been doing a physics experiment. Or I’d been there all the time and she just hadn’t noticed me.
“The count will wonder where we are,” said the man’s voice.
“Then he can just send his Transylvanian friend looking for us, that’s what your count can do. He’s not even really a count. His title’s as much of a fake as the rosy cheeks of that … what was her name again?” The girl gave an angry little snort through her nose as she spoke.
Somehow or other, I knew that sound. I knew it very well. I cautiously peered out from behind the curtain. The two of them were standing right in front of the door, with their profiles turned to me. The girl really was only a girl, wearing a fantastic dress, midnight blue silk and embroidered brocade, with a skirt so wide she’d probably have trouble getting through a normal doorway in it. She had snow-white hair piled up into a strange sort of mountain on top of her head, with ringlets falling to her shoulders. It had to be a wig. The man had white hair too, held together with a ribbon at the nape of his neck. In spite of having hair like senior citizens, they both looked very young and very attractive, especially the man. He was more of a boy, really, maybe eighteen or nineteen years old. But staggeringly good-looking. A perfect masculine profile. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I leaned much farther out of my hiding place than I really meant to.
“I’ve forgotten her name already,” said the boy, still laughing.
“Liar!”
“The count’s not responsible for Rakoczy’s behavior,” said the boy, serious again now. “He’ll certainly be reprimanded for that. You don’t have to like the count, you only have to respect him.”
The girl snorted scornfully again, and again it sounded strangely familiar. “I don’t have to do anything,” she said, abruptly turning toward the window. That meant turning to me. I wanted to disappear right behind the curtain, but I froze mid-movement.
This was impossible!
The girl had my face. I was looking into my own startled eyes!
She seemed as surprised as I was, but she got over her shock faster. She made a movement with her hand.
Hide! her gesture clearly said. Disappear!
Breathing hard, I put my head back behind the curtain. Who was she? There just couldn’t be such a likeness between us. I simply had to look again.
“What was that?” I heard the boy saying.
“Nothing!” said the girl. Was that by any chance also my voice?
“At the window.”
“Nothing, I said.”
“There could be someone standing behind the curtain listening to…” Whatever he was saying was cut short by his sound of surprise. Suddenly there was silence. Now what had happened?
Without thinking, I pushed the curtain aside. The girl who looked like me had planted her lips right on the boy’s mouth. He took it passively at first, then he put his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. The girl shut her eyes.
Suddenly there were butterflies dancing in my stomach. It was odd, watching yourself kiss someone. I thought I did it pretty well. I realized that the girl was kissing the boy only to take his mind off me. Nice of her, but why was she doing it? And how was I going to get past them unnoticed?
The butterflies in my stomach turned to a flock of birds in flight, and the picture of the couple kissing blurred before my eyes. And then, suddenly, I was in the Year Six classroom with my nerves in shreds.
All was still.
I’d expected an outcry from all the students when I suddenly appeared, and someone—maybe Mrs. Counter—falling down in a faint with the shock of it.
But the classroom was empty. I groaned with relief. At least I’d been lucky this time. I dropped into a chair and put my head down on the desk in front of it. What had just happened was more than I could take in for the moment. The girl, the gorgeous guy, the kiss.…
The girl hadn’t just looked like me.
The girl was me.
There was no possible mistake. I’d recognized myself, beyond any shadow of doubt, by the little birthmark in the shape of a half-moon on my temple, the one Aunt Glenda always called Gwenny’s funny little banana.
