The Sixth Door

Every story about doors has one door that matters more than the rest. In The Mirror, it sits at the far end of the hallway, and it's enormous.

Jr notices the lock first, because of course he does.

There are five slots carved into the stone, each one a different shape. Every time the boys beat a world, they come out carrying a key, and the key fits exactly one slot. Push it in and it settles into the stone and glows a soft, steady gold.

Above the door are three small circles, like the bulbs on an old scoreboard. Those are the strikes. Fail a door and one turns red. Three red and the place keeps you.

So the sixth door is a lock and a scoreboard at the same time. Every key moves you closer to it. Every failure moves you closer to never leaving.

What I love about writing that door is that kids immediately want to know what's behind it. That's the right question, and I'm not going to answer it here. The boys don't get to know yet either. They get five slots, three circles, and a hallway full of doors that each have to be beaten first.

A good question to ask a reader after Book One: if you could only open one of the five smaller doors first, which would you pick, and why?

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