“Yes,” he grumbles.

“Good. Follow me.” I head down the stairs to our basement. “Quietly.”

I don’t want my parents to wake up. They don’t know about the magic mirror. Maryrose hypnotized their memories away on purpose. Plus, we promised them that we wouldn’t go into the basement at night, and I hate breaking promises. But what else can I do? I need Jonah to remember everything that happened and this is the only way. Also, going through the mirror is fun.

Prince follows right behind me. I can hear Jonah grumbling to himself behind Prince.

“Close the basement door,” I tell Jonah as we climb down the final flight of stairs.

He does. I motion for him to come closer and face the mirror.

The mirror is about twice the size of me. The frame is made of stone and decorated with carvings of small fairies with wings and wands. The glass part is clear and smooth, and inside we can see our reflections. My shoulder-length curly dark hair. My small, scrawny brother and his messy brown hair. Prince’s furry little body.

I knock on the mirror. Once. Twice. Three times.

I hold my breath.

Nothing happens.

No spinning. No purple. No hissing.

“Crumbs,” I mutter.

I’ve dragged Jonah down to the basement every night for the past week to knock on the mirror.

And Maryrose is still not letting us in.

Why not? I have no idea. Sometimes she’s picky like that. Sometimes she waits for us to wear certain outfits before letting us into the mirror, like pajamas that look like a kingdom’s flags. But she doesn’t tell us what she wants us to wear, and it’s hard to guess.

A few days ago, I wore ballet slippers in case she was hoping to bring us inside the story of The Twelve Dancing Princesses. Today I have bread crumbs in my hoodie pocket in case she is thinking of taking us into Hansel and Gretel.

Between the bread crumbs and the ballet slippers and the apples, I have been working with a lot of different fairy tale props lately.

“Let me try one more time,” I tell my brother.

“No,” he says and scrunches up his face. “Enough. We don’t have a magic mirror!”

“Yes, we do! What time is it?”

“Twelve-oh-five,” Jonah says, glancing at his watch.

Double crumbs. “I guess it’s not happening tonight. It’s too late now.” I exhale a super-loud, super-annoyed sigh. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

Prince paws the mirror. He gets it. He wants Jonah to remember, too, I can tell.

“Can’t we take a few nights off?” Jonah asks. “It’s Mom’s birthday on Wednesday. I don’t have a present for her yet.”