As You Wish (5 page)

“Come on,” she responds, “be reasonable. We aren't talking about choosing between left and right. Choosing three wishes is a huge deal.”

“For you. Not for Keanu.”

“Well, of course not. Everything is easy for Keanu. The guy can dodge bullets,” Viola says.

A loud, grinding sound—the garage door opening—cuts her off. Her parents are noisy getting out of the car, like they've had a lot of wine at dinner. Viola looks at me as she rises from the couch.

“I'm going to my room. They're going to want to watch C-SPAN or something,” she says.

I stand and shove my hands in my pockets. She doesn't want me in her bedroom again just yet, I can tell, but at least her fear of me has melted away.

“So I need to leave?” I say, even though I already see her answer. She looks apologetic, but nods. “All right,” I say, and the room blurs as I begin to vanish. “Good night, Viola.”

FIVE HOURS TILL
the party.

Four.

Three. I should have spent the day painting—time always goes faster that way. I begin rooting through my closet, wondering what I'm supposed to wear tonight.

“You could wish for a new wardrobe.” Jinn's voice comes from behind me. I don't jump this time—I guess I've gotten used to him appearing and disappearing. I sigh and turn away from my scant collection of outfits, meeting his eyes as I fall into my computer chair.

“Right, a new wardrobe. A worthy use of a wish. What
do girls wear to parties in Caliban, anyway?” I ask. “Do they dress up?”

“I guess. Or dress
down
, rather. They don't wear a lot to parties….” I raise both eyebrows. Jinn shrugs and continues. “All jinn girls sort of look the same, though, so there's no real point.”

“You're so romantic.” I smirk and then laugh when Jinn fakes a gentlemanly bow before collapsing onto my bed.

“Yeah, well, to be honest, you sort of stop noticing the difference between one jinn and another after a while. We don't have names, and we all look pretty similar—it gets tricky to keep everyone straight, much less feel romantic about one in particular.”

“That's so bizarre, to think of you not having a name. You're
Jinn
,” I say. Who else would he be without that title? It somehow blows my mind.

Jinn laughs, then answers brightly, “I guess. Though that's just a name you gave me. When I get back to Caliban, I'll just be another jinn again—” He cuts himself off, and his eyebrows furrow in a puzzled expression that I don't totally understand.

I'm about to ask what he's thinking when he speaks again. “Anyway, female jinn go to parties half naked. It's not as appealing as you'd expect, but it's what the Ancients want.” He begins picking at my quilt with a bored expression.

“Whoa, back up,” I say, shaking my head. “The Ancients want jinn girls to be half naked?”

“Well…sort of. There aren't many jinn left—I think there are a few thousand of us. That's why they've got the protocol and everything; all the rules are an attempt to keep us from dying out.”

“And naked jinn girls prevent genocide?”

“No, but it encourages…um…reproduction.”

I cringe. “Sorry I asked. I thought you were immortal, though?”

“In Caliban. But all these little mortal world visits where we age add up, after a while.”

“Oh,” I say, swallowing hard to try to hide my guilt. Jinn shrugs and winds a loose thread around his fingers. I finally turn back to my computer screen, clicking through images of the new arrivals at the Gap. I look back to my closet with a
sigh—I have nothing that looks like these clothes. I really need to go shopping more than once a year.

To add insult to injury, when Lawrence arrives to pick me up, he looks like he just stepped out of a fashion magazine. He carries the strong scent of coffee from a day spent working at a local coffeehouse, but he somehow makes it smell like expensive cologne instead of mochachinos.

“Wear the black,” Lawrence advises once I've paraded my outfit options for him.

Jinn, who has been idly sorting through my stuffed animals, looks up at me. “I like the black, too,” he says, then begins arranging the toys so all the cats are with other cats.

Lawrence looks at Jinn and shrugs. “Then it's unanimous. Wear the black. And come on, it's time to go.”

 

What I wouldn't give for a paintbrush right now.

Arriving at the party is like showing up to a bizarre Hollywood premiere: I know all the stars, but only a handful know me. I watch them all, studying them, trying to figure out the best way to capture this giant blur of light and red and dance
and beer. Red cups are scattered over the front yard, and all the doors and windows are open. Something inside crashes, followed by the twittering laughter of several girls. Music is playing so loudly that it makes my heart vibrate. There are so many cars parked in the yard and on the street that we have to pass the house and park almost a block away, where I can still hear the music pounding.

“Why am I here?” Jinn mutters as we walk through the darkness toward the brilliantly lit house.

“Moral support?” I answer with a smirk.

“Go, Team Viola!” Jinn says, doing a little cheer with his arms.

I laugh. “Fine, go then.” The words fall from my mouth before I realize he'll take it as a direct order. I meet Jinn's eyes. “I mean…unless you want to stay.”

Jinn raises his eyes at me. “Eh, I'll stay. Who knows, tonight might be the night you decide to make a wish.”

“Speaking of wishes, Vi, you could wish I'd remembered to bring money for the beer,” Lawrence says as he picks through his wallet, littering the ground in crumpled receipts.
“Whatever. I'm sure we can get in,” he adds after meeting my eyes—I can feel my eyebrows wrinkling in concern.

Lawrence heads toward the house, nodding to the two barely dressed girls who flank the door holding buckets stuffed with dollar bills. The girls wave at Lawrence, all sparkly teeth and plastic jewelry, and I see him pointing to his empty wallet. But when he nods at me, their expressions fall.

“I mean, we can't let you
both
in for free…that's sort of the point of the Beer Buckets,” one says. Does she think that I can't hear her? That I didn't see her face change when she saw me?

Jinn mutters and rolls his eyes. “Say you can pay.”

I shake my head at him quickly, hoping the girls won't notice, but Jinn pushes me forward, lurching me toward them. I give the girls a look I know is pathetic and desperate. But instead of the looks of disgust I expect, one of the girls reaches toward me and swipes at thin air, then drops her hand into the bucket of money.

“Thanks! Go on in,” she says in a cheerful voice. Lawrence looks surprised but smiles and steps inside the house.

I freeze.

“Illusion,” Jinn explains. “They all saw you give her money. Blonde on a power trip, if you ask me….”

“Thank you, Jinn,” I whisper sincerely as we step through the doorway. I touch his hand briefly in appreciation; his eyes jump to mine in surprise.

“I didn't come all this way to walk back down the block,” Jinn replies, yet his voice lacks the edge I was expecting. I glance back just in time to see a look of disgust and regret on his face as he scans the party he just got me into.

The inside of the house is filled with the malty sweet scent of cigarette smoke and spilled beer. It's loud, dark, and muggy; I feel sweat trickling down my back from the heat of the crowd. Everyone is standing in small circles, talking and leaning on one another: girls in fuchsia and turquoise with perfect straight teeth and boys with well-styled hair and coy grins. Aaron waves at us from across the room. He's motioning us to come over. I smile, and Lawrence puts a hand firmly on my shoulder.

“Do you want me to stay with you, Vi?” Lawrence asks. “Er—
us
to stay with you?” he modifies when he remembers Jinn. It's no secret to me that Lawrence is worried about me
being here—he doesn't think it's my “thing.” Maybe he's right, because part of me wants to wrap my arm around him until my nerves die down.

But no. I don't want to be Lawrence Dumott's Invisible Girl shadow anymore. I want to belong with these people on my own. And besides—this is Lawrence's party, too. I can't insist he babysit me all night.

“No,” I say, hoping my voice sounds more confident than I feel.

Lawrence nods. “Well, if you need me, I'll be out back. Jinn? Coming with me? Or did you want to watch Aaron smash beer cans on his head?”

I roll my eyes at Lawrence, and Jinn gives me a questioning glance. “Go with Lawrence,” I sigh. I'm about to correct the order when Jinn holds up his hands with an appreciative nod.

“I know. Not an order. It isn't as strong when you don't really mean the command.” He glances at Aaron warily, then follows Lawrence, weaving through a couple of girls who are dancing with one another to give some guys nearby a cheap thrill.

“Viola!” Aaron waves again. He's surrounded by bleached blondes who give me dull, bored looks. I push through the girls (who, thankfully, make no attempts to dance with me). I catch sight of Ollie's golden skin on the opposite side of the room, where she sips a peach-colored wine cooler that matches her tank top.

“Sit down! I'll have someone get you a beer,” Aaron says warmly. The faces of the girls around him darken. Are they
jealous
of me? No. That's impossible.

I inhale deeply and nod at Aaron. “That'd be great, thanks.”

“Hey! Jason!” Aaron yells over the thick noise of gossip and music. A burly football-player type turns around. Aaron holds up two fingers, and the guy shoves his hand into the closest cooler, then tosses both cans over the coffee table. Aaron catches one after the other and hands a can to me.

I don't like beer. I've had it only once or twice before, and I sort of think it tastes like rubbing alcohol. But I'm not about to refuse one here—I pop the can open and try to pour it down my throat, to avoid tasting it all too much. Aaron turns away
from me, distracted by a joke a willowy girl is sharing. I glance at the girl on my other side, but I can't figure out how to start a conversation with her. She probably doesn't even know who I am anyway.

Find something to say, Viola. Find something to do.
I sink farther back into the couch. Maybe it can swallow me, so I don't look like a silent loser sitting here all awkward and shy. Maybe I should leave.

No.

I want to belong. I need to belong. I
can
belong. Without a wish. I exhale and force myself to sit up straight. I lean forward to glimpse Jinn and Lawrence sitting together on the patio. They're here—one is invisible, true, but still. If they can do this, I can do this. I tap Aaron's shoulder lightly, forcing a confident smile as he turns to face me.

I FOLLOW LAWRENCE
through a thick cloud of people and cigarette smoke, past a kitchen full of coolers and a few couples groping while they think no one is looking. Lawrence holds the door to the deck open for me. I glance back to Viola, who is just lowering herself onto the couch beside Aaron. She's fine. Besides, if she has a wish, she'll call me…no sense in me hanging around.

Why am I so concerned?

A girl calls out to Lawrence and rushes over. She starts talking fast—Lawrence looks like he wants to run from her. I look up at the scattered stars that peek out from behind a thick layer
of clouds. Minutes pass—maybe longer. I've begun losing track of the exact count.

The unofficial goal for all jinn is to get three wishes granted in three days: “Three in Three.” I've never fallen short before now—this is day three, and there's not a wish in sight. The deep sick feeling of aging isn't as strong as it was, but I can still feel moments ticking by, and I can still see Lawrence changing fluidly in front of me. I wonder what's happened in Caliban since I've been gone. Not much, I imagine—Caliban is sort of a smooth-running machine, really. Very few surprises—the Ancients make sure of that.

“Jinn?” Lawrence whispers sharply, and I suddenly realize he's been talking to me for the past minute or so. Thoughts of Caliban fade away and I lift myself onto the deck railing.
Jinn
. He considers it my name, just like Viola does.

“Sorry. I forgot you can see me,” I answer.

“No problem. You've just been totally silent for a half hour.”

“That long?” Wow. I really am losing track. “How long is this thing going to last?” I ask.

“A few hours. Just long enough for her to realize keg
parties aren't her thing, hopefully.”

“You go to them,” I respond. “They're your thing?”

“No, not really. I mean, I don't hate them. At first it was cool to get invited and to be there and everything. Now it's all just…” He shrugs. “Vi…this is no place for her. It's not that I don't want her to feel like she belongs again. I do, and I want to help. I just don't want her to do it like this. I've tried telling her she isn't invisible, that she can belong to whatever and whoever she wants, but after how I hurt her, I guess I have no right to stop her from doing whatever it is she thinks will make her happy.”

Finally. From Lawrence emerges a wish. In the time I've been around him, he hasn't had a single wish—unusual for a mortal. But now the wish is clear in the way his eyes graze the floor: a wish to end his regret.

“What happened with you two?” I ask.

“The person who will be granting her wishes should know, I guess,” Lawrence says with a forced smile. A few of the chattering girls are looking at Lawrence, their penciled-in eyebrows raised—he appears to be talking to himself.

“Rehearsing lines for a play,” Lawrence tells them quickly. They look doubtful, but shrug it off.

Lawrence sighs and begins, “Viola and I were best friends growing up. When we were freshmen in high school, we decided to try dating. It was weird and wonderful all at once, because we weren't really nervous around each other, you know? It just seemed natural that we'd end up together, like the best friends always do in romance movies.

“I loved Viola, but I was starting to realize that it was in a different way than she loved me. I loved the security, having her there to talk to, having someone who understood me, someone I understood. As a friend. So one night Viola tells me she loves me, and we kiss, and I know that this time it's going to go much further than kissing.”

“But you're—” I start.

“Gay. Yes. I am. And I shared that information with her right around the time she took off her shirt,” Lawrence finishes, grimacing. He picks at the leaves of a nearby potted plant.

“Great timing.”

Lawrence nods. “I didn't even know for sure that I was gay
until we'd been together for almost a year, to be honest. So, anyway, I tried to explain, but she threw me out. Didn't talk to me for weeks. She got quieter, shyer,…lonelier.”

You broke her. Or she thinks you broke her, anyhow.

“But then why doesn't she just—” I stop midsentence.
Wish you straight?
is what I'm thinking, but I'm afraid to say it. I've never really spoken to the possible
subject
of a wish like this before.
Yes, Lawrence, I can manipulate you. Viola can wish, and I can change how you are.
I look away from him.

Lawrence shakes his head—he can see where I was going with that. “Not Viola—she won't. She's my best friend; she'd never wish to change me like that.”

“But being with you would make her happy.”

“Yeah, yeah. But it's not that easy. What a tangled web we weave, my friend,” Lawrence says with a grin. “Just do me a favor and don't grant any stupid wishes for her.”

Once a wish is made, I have to grant it, but I don't want to tell Lawrence that. He's not talking to me as a jinn, somehow. He's just talking to me. To
Jinn
. It's strange, and I'm not sure I want it to end by reminding him of protocol about respecting
masters and wish rules. But doesn't he realize I'm just supposed to be a wish granter?

Lawrence takes a long sip of the beer he's holding. “Speaking of, can you see her in there? I don't want one of the football players to convince her to play beer pong or something.”

I lean back on the railing and can just barely see the couch through the kitchen doors. But not Viola. She and Aaron are gone, leaving only an indentation and a few girls who look like they're withering into the cushions.

“She's gone. They're both gone—they were on the couch,” I say with a grimace.

Lawrence sighs and wrinkles his brow in worry. “Help me find her?” he says. I nod. We go back inside, and Lawrence moves toward a dining room, where the table is covered in cards and shot glasses. I go in the opposite direction.

Masters and jinn are linked to each other, so usually I can find my master anywhere and reappear at her side. But right now, it's like the line between us is hidden by a thick fog. Though maybe it's because I'm trying to find her when it's not to grant a wish. I'm breaking the third protocol—helping her without a
wish prevents me from getting back to Caliban as soon as possible. How many times have I broken all three protocol for her, now? I really shouldn't have pulled that stunt at the door, but they shouldn't have treated her like that. Like she didn't matter.

I don't see her anywhere on the lower floor, so I head for the staircase.

The upstairs is dark and cool, unlike the balmy lower floor. The music here is obscured, so all I can make out is the thudding bass, and the conversations that are so noisy downstairs are blurred into muted chatter. Every breath I take up here is loud, which is how I find her—the ragged sound of her breathing from the other end of the darkness.

“Viola?” I see her move in the black, and a feeling of relief crashes over me. “What are you doing?” I whisper. She's kneeling beside a door, fingers gripping the doorframe so hard, her knuckles are white. I look into the room that she's staring at, as if in a trance. Ollie and Aaron are locked in a tight embrace, Ollie mostly undressed and looking like some sort of ballerina or Roman goddess in the moonlight.

I turn back at Viola, and she breaks her gaze to look at me.
The deep wish, the wish to feel whole, looms in her eyes.

“They're so beautiful…see how they belong to each other?” she mumbles thickly. “I don't…I just don't…I didn't mean to watch. I just saw them and…” She releases the doorframe and shakily grabs my hand, then turns her face to me.

I hesitate.

I shouldn't help her without a wish. Third protocol. I should convince her to wish for belonging, right now, while she's desperate. Just like the Ancients demand. I should do everything in my power to return to Caliban as soon as possible.

I look back at Aaron and Ollie, then at Viola's eyes. She needs me. Me, not wishes, not a wish granter. Just me, just Jinn. No one has ever needed me, not like this. No one in Caliban needs anyone else. How could we need one another there, when we aren't even individual enough to have names?

Her hand is in mine. I turn her away from the door, resting her back against the wall and pulling her hair away from her lips. She pulls her knees to her chest, no hint of laughter or cleverness in her eyes. “You don't have to belong here, with these people,” I say after a struggle for words.