The Pentrals Read Free Page A

avoid looking at the mirrors around her house. It’s not an easy task; the refrigerator, countertops, and doorways are all reflective. I do not mind the mirrors. All those reflective surfaces make my work much more interesting, as light playfully bounces across the room. But today, Violet is not sharing my enthusiasm.
    Because she lives so close to her high school, Violet walks every morning. I much prefer traveling by foot than by carpod; the silver bean-shaped vehicles give me no choice but to lay motionless on the floor. Being outside allows me time to flex my artistic abilities as I trace the wind patterns in Violet’s hair or weave in and out of terrain. It is easy enough to duplicate images on flat, smooth surfaces, but becomes more challenging when the environment throws hurdles in the way. Things like bushes and trees are expected and easy enough to deal with, but quickly darting between the slats of a picket fence is more advanced. I welcome obstacles; anything that helps me hone my craft.
    The walk is slow today, as Violet stops to kick rocks out of her path or pull a leaf from a tree. As I shadowed her packing up her book bag, I did not get a chance to view her schedule on her holopane. It takes a beat to remember whether or not she has art class today. Ever since school started a few weeks ago, I’ve had trouble mastering her senior year schedule. Once Violet passes through the doors of Talline High, my day is a blur of confusion. With so many Persons packed into such a tight space, it is absolute hysteria on the floor. The Shadows become one undulating mess, smashed into each other as we try to maintain the shape of the one we follow. Persons step on us, left and right, and while we cannot physically feel pain, it is annoying to have someone’s foot in your face when you’re working. Not to mention how once our gray forms touch, we become privy to each other’s thoughts. Small bits of consciousness float into mine, whether I want them or not:
    “Ugh, last night was exhausting.”
    “Who is this guy she’s kissing?”
    “I cannot sit through another algebra class.”
    It is a lot to take in. But for now, on our walk, I soak in the sunlight, my outline dark and steady on the pavement, trying not to worry about what the school day will bring.
    We stop at the intersection across from school and wait for the streetlight to change. There’s a lot to see at this time of day, from shiny carpods whirring by on their way to work to reflective bus benches mirroring the hustle and bustle. Occasionally I catch another Person’s face, tilted downward, trying to avoid all the mirrored commotion, but I don’t have much time to register their presence. From my angle, I can’t help but look up past Violet’s head to the giant billboard-sized holopane above. Besides the red rock of the towering canyon encircling the city, the extra-large monitor is one of the few non-reflective surfaces in the square, making it impossible to miss.
    A three-dimensional projection shows a picture of Talline itself, with people dancing and laughing in the streets. It’s a packed scene, as if every resident in the city is smashed into one image, yet one face stands out amongst the crowd. It is Celestia Sky, the unofficial spokesperson of Talline. With so much white light engulfing the streets, she is a standout vision. An image of her raven hair and flawless ebony skin slinks across the sky, working every angle of the 3D medium. You can’t miss her, nor would you want to; Celestia is a Person who demands to be seen.
    “Show your appreciation for the most beautiful city in the world!” she coos. Celestia gracefully gestures to the scene behind her, discussing the details of the Festival of Light, an upcoming town celebration. The party is thrown annually in honor of the city’s radiant beauty. Naturally, I’ve attended every year, though in a limited capacity. The day usually begins with a trip around Lake Clarion on the Kellys’