Three Wishes (16 page)

I shoot her a look — I don't want to get into this in front of Joel — but she's not paying attention, busy pouring her own glass. Joel pats my shoulder as if he already knows what happened with Pete. My cup is so full I'm worried about spilling everywhere, so instead of waiting for Leia, I take it and stand over the counter while I slurp, trying to empty enough of my drink to make it safe to walk around.

“Take it easy, there, Genie, there's plenty to go around,” Joel teases.

“I didn't want to—” I begin to explain.

He waves it away. “I'm sure you're not going to spill anything.” Still, I gulp down a bit more before I begin circulating through the house. It's a pretty mellow party. Most of the people are hanging out in the family room watching crummy romantic comedies. Leia wanders back into the living room, where I hear music and some loud conversation going on, but, feeling a bit anti-social, I decide to watch the movie so I can avoid any questions about Pete.

I settle in to the last remaining seat, a beanbag chair slumped in front of the huge TV, and I have to crane my neck to see the movie. I've begun watching as the main characters are declaring their love for one another and kissing like crazy, so I make my way pretty quickly through my drink. We finish the movie and I drain my glass.

Rachel notices me struggling to get up from my awkward seat. “Do you want more?”

“Yes, thanks,” I answer. “And — can you pass me the chips and salsa over there?” She hands them to me and I start munching as a couple of the other kids order up a movie they had queued from the Internet. Only moments later Rachel reappears, my glass again so full I'm worried I might spill it. She takes her time handing it to me.

“Sure you got it?” she asks, eyebrow cocked. I nod to her and settle back after slurping enough from the edge.

The credits roll and it's a classic young adult movie. “I love a good vampire story,” I mumble to no one in particular. Someone — Rachel? — refills my glass again when I run out, about midway through the movie. Near the end I can't wait anymore and realize I have to go to the bathroom. In fact, I'm about to burst.

I manage to get up from the beanbag, but I'm off-balance from my efforts, and stagger a bit heading to the doorway. Someone snickers, maybe at me, maybe at the corny lines in the movie. In the corner of the living room, Leia's deep in conversation with Joel. That's a good sign.

Stumbling as I head up the stairs, I search for a bathroom as fast as I can. I open a door at random and find what I think is the master bedroom. And, at the other end of the room — a bathroom. I'm sure of it. The light is on over the sink.

I'm relieved to make it in there just in time. As I wash my hands I peer, open-mouthed, at my reflection. My cheeks are cherry-red, and my teeth feel fuzzy. I don't know why I look and feel so off, but I splash water on my face and squeeze a dollop of toothpaste on my finger, swabbing it around my mouth and hoping my breath doesn't smell.

Heading out the door into the bedroom, I trip over my own foot and catch myself by grabbing the edge of the bed.
I must have eaten something bad
. My head hurt, too. In the dim light from the bathroom, I can see sliding doors leading out to a spacious second-story deck.
Fresh air.
That should help.

I fumble with the lock and then heave the heavy door to the side, taking deep breaths of the fiercely cold air outside. My breath crystallizes, and I focus on keeping my thoughts from swimming around my brain. But all I can think about is Pete. I've been trying hard not to dwell, but the party seems to have brought out the melancholy in me, and I'm feeling sorry for myself and angry at him for doing this to me.

The self-pity tears are welling up as I hear someone come into the bedroom. I've left the sliding glass doors wide open. Sniffling and wiping under my eyes, I'm still feeling woozy, but at least my head is now a bit clearer.

“Genie?” Joel's voice is behind me. “You must be freezing,” he says, coming out onto the deck.

“I'm fine,” I answer, but I can't stop shivering.

“No, you're not,” he says, shaking his head like I'm a naughty child. He rubs my arms. My stomach drops, probably from whatever I ate, and I somehow trip over nothing. I practically fall into Joel's embrace, stiffening for only a moment before relaxing into him.

I rest my head on his shoulder and sigh, blissful. “Such a good friend,” I mumble, patting his back. His arms tighten.

“Hey, Genie—” he whispers.

I lift my head from where I was so comfortable and look down at him. The light from the bathroom is still on, but I can't see well, so it's a total surprise when I hear him say, “Aw, man.” And then he kisses me.

I'm confused and overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through me. My heart is beating a mile a minute, and without even realizing it, I've entwined my arms behind his head, pulling him as close as possible. His arms snake around my waist until we're pressed together. He smells of chlorine, mixed with a musky, but pleasant odor I can't quite identify.

His lips are so soft. I can taste the salt from the chips he's been eating and think idly I am glad I cleaned my own mouth before this happened. If kissing Luke was as exciting as riding a bike, and kissing Pete is like driving a fancy sports car, then kissing Joel is revving up my body like I'm in a high-octane speedboat.

But then everything shuts down as I run out of gas.
Pete
. I pull away in horror, staring at Joel in shock before covering my two-timing mouth with both hands. Pete may have stood me up, but
I
am the one cheating on him.
This cannot be me.
Joel stands there, arms at his side.

“I'm so, so sorry,” I hear, but I'm already gone. Backing away, off the deck and out of the bedroom, I find Leia and tell her I'm ready to go. Right now. I won't meet her eyes, but I am steeling myself for an inquisition once we get to the car. I insist on driving to force myself to focus.

“What happened?” she asks.

“Nothing. I — I was thinking about Pete,” I say. Not a lie.

“Oh,” she answers, voice full of empathy. “I get it.” She sighs dramatically. “And to think — this is all because of a bunch of flowers.” I glance over, and she's got the teeniest of smiles on her face.

“Yeah.” For a fleeting moment, it occurs to me Leia seemed awfully happy about me going to the party — but she couldn't have sent the roses to try to make trouble with Pete. After what just happened with Joel, he'd seem the obvious culprit, but that kiss was clearly a mistake. We've never been more than friends.

At least Leia's not on my case, and I allow myself some cheater's sorrowful tears as I drive. She pats my shoulder, not knowing the real reason I'm so upset.

I drop Leia and her car off and crunch the few steps back to my house, careful not to get snow in my cute shoes. My breath catches in the cold air. Before I reach the door, my phone rings. Looking at it for the first time all evening, I see there are countless texts from Pete. But it's Joel calling.

Can I face talking to him right now?
I waver, holding the phone away from me with the tips of my fingers, as if I can keep the whole situation at a distance. Sighing, I answer the phone with a tentative, “Hi, Joel.”

“I'm so sorry,” he lets out in a rush. “That was awful. I shouldn't have done that.”

“It's — whatever. It's okay. Forget about it. I know it was a mistake.”

“No, it's just—”

“I agree. It was awful.”

He's silent. Then, “Can we still be friends?”

I nod, but of course he can't see me, so I let out a soft “yes” before pressing End.

I lock away my regret until I get up to my room.

My best friend is the man who in wishing me well wishes it for my sake. — Aristotle

Lying in bed, I take a deep breath and start scrolling through my texts. I had chosen to leave my cell phone in my coat pocket during the party so I wouldn't dwell too much on Pete, but now I am more guilt-stricken as I read.

The first one is from 7:30 p.m., right after I'd arrived at the party.

I'm so sorry,
it reads.
Please forgive me.

Ten minutes later, Pete had sent another.

I know I was a jerk. I miss you.

A few minutes later, there is:
Where are you? I called your house and your grandparents said you were out.

Then I see:
I don't care about the flowers.

At this point, I don't care, either.

I know I get jealous sometimes and I didn't treat you the way you deserve. I don't know what got into me.

The texts to follow are increasingly agitated and fluctuate between apologies, I love yous, and questions about where I am. The last one, which came in a few minutes prior, says,
I still love you. If you'll let me, I'll make it up to you. Happy Valentine's Day.

I don't even know what to do.

I'm still upset about how Pete treated me. But I can't believe what I did. Kissing another guy? The one my friend likes? So not cool. I feel like dirt. No, like the worms in the dirt. No — like the worms
eating
the dirt. That's more like it.

There is no way I can tell Pete about what happened with Joel. But how can I not forgive him, when standing me up is hardly as awful as cheating on him?

Still, I can't face a phone conversation right now.
Love you too,
I text.
Let's talk more tomorrow. Can't now. I'm exhausted.

He sends back a ton of Xs and Os and a big smiley face. At least I've made him happy.

I go into the bathroom to get ready for bed. When I get out, I see my mom's diary has found its way onto my bed.
Not now, Mom,
I think, sticking the book into my nightstand drawer. I have been able to be semi-normal for so long, and I don't have time for anything else.

However, to my consternation, the drawer won't close. I remove the diary, and it pushes in. I put the diary back and it won't budge. I try to stick it under my bed, but it feels lumpy, like a boulder is under my mattress. Exasperated, I try to throw it onto the floor and find it's stuck to my hand.

“I give up,” I mutter and settle back to read as little of the diary as I am allowed. Somehow, by starting to read it again, it seems like I'm admitting to myself all over again I'm not just a normal girl.

The diary opens up in a section I hadn't read before, where it accuses:

You've been avoiding me.

“Yes, mom, I've been trying to live my human life.”

It's fewer than four months until you're eighteen. You have to start thinking ahead.

“Do you want me to read this or not? Then can the lecture, okay?”

Very well.

I brought Matthew to my home, an extraordinary event, as it was rare enough for male djinn to be invited over, let alone a male human, but I wanted to fulfill my promise to Matt, and give him insight into my earlier life. Eugénie, I would have liked for you to have known this place, too. Our ancestral home.

It was unique to my knowledge, with a huge, two-story, open courtyard area at the center of the house, and two levels of balconies attached to smaller, windowless rooms, ringing around above the courtyard. The walls were smooth throughout and varied from intricate mosaic patterns to sand-colored stucco, with no edges found anywhere inside the building. Rooms flowed into one another in a way that could be confusing to a stranger, but felt protective to those of us who lived there. It was almost like a colorful, large cave, and anytime the retractable roof was wished over the courtyard, darkening the interior, it only added to the effect.

If Matt had awed me when he brought me to his favorite chapel, his mouth fell open upon seeing my home. I couldn't help laughing at him.

“This is — much bigger — than on the outside,” he choked out, overwhelmed.

“Well, of course. There wasn't room here for the size building we needed.”

“But, then, how…?” He began asking.

I sighed. Wasn't it obvious this place was created by genies? He seemed to catch on then and started nodding as he took yet another look around the courtyard.

“How many… genies… live here, Geneviève?” he asked, playing it cool.

“Now? A dozen or so, give or take. At one point I believe it was a lot more, but that was centuries ago. Djinn are not susceptible to any human diseases, with the unfortunate exception of the bubonic plague. In the fourteenth century, while some fifty percent of humans died of the black death, genies died en masse — about ninety percent of us were wiped out.” I sighed. “We're still recovering.”

He nodded again and then asked, hesitating, “So… why is it all empty? I mean there's no furniture.”

I shrugged. “We wish it, as needed. My mother was elected head of the house, and she can't stand any kind of clutter.”

“Then why build this whole house at all, instead of wishing it, as needed?”

I laughed. “Well, it used to be, before I came along, but again, my mother rules the roost, and she got tired of never knowing how the house was going to look, so the other genies agreed to stop messing around with the rooms.”

“You make me sound like a tyrant,” I heard my mother say. Glancing up, I saw her step forward from the balcony of her room above us. I hadn't realized she was home, and for a moment felt a little flustered, until I decided I didn't much care.

“No, Maman, it is who you are. I said it with love, and admiration.” She accepted this
with a brief nod, and a slight arch of her eyebrow, then turned her attention to Matt. “This is Matthew Lowry, my…” I gulped, bravado fading, then forcing out the words, “
mon copain.
”