Three Wishes (11 page)

Pete keeps trying to take my hand, too, but I'm too busy matchmaking to pay attention to him. I can't figure out what I'm doing wrong. They should know they belong together. I scowl and ignore whatever's left of the movie. Maybe we should have gone to a romcom.

As we file out of the aisles, I can see what I've done has backfired. Leia is staying at least five feet away from Joel, even going so far as to wedge herself between Pete and me. She's chatting about the movie as if it deserves an Oscar.

We walk out into the frigid parking lot, and the wind blows right through me. I stand there, shivering, waiting for Pete to unlock the doors to his SUV, when he asks Joel if he could bring Leia home.
Yes! Great idea!
Joel looks like he's about to shake his head, but Pete whispers something in his ear and Joel gulps, then invites Leia to go in his car. She cocks her head at him but agrees with a slight grimace.

Thanks
, I mouth at her. She shrugs and waves goodbye to us both as Pete starts the car.

They walk away, and I ask Pete what he said to Joel. “I told him you're cold, and I needed to get you all warmed up.” He lowers his eyelids and his voice gets husky. “Do we have time before you need to get home?”

I check my cell. It's already eleven-forty, and we're about five miles from my house. “I've got ten minutes. But I can't get in late again, or my grandparents might ground me.” For the first time in my life. They told me they are growing weary of me pushing my midnight curfew, and I don't want to risk it.

“I can deal.” On the drive home, we find a private spot to park. If only I could wish to keep the clock from approaching midnight. I'm not used to being irresistible, but Pete assures me he can't keep his hands off me. Can't say I mind, either. My ten spare minutes speed by, and I groan when the timer on my cell rings. But we pull away from each other, and he starts up the car again. I turn down the blasting air from the vent, trying to straighten my hair and clothes as we drive.

As we pull into my driveway, I hear “I love you,” whispered in the darkness.

Who said that?

I turn to him, and he looks at me, his eyes big in the dim light. He traces my cheek with his thumb and says a little louder now, “I love you, Genie.”

I am at a loss, breathless with this unexpected development.

My heart has exploded into a thousand fireworks. I gather it together, holding my hands to my chest, before stammering, “Love you, too.”
Do I?
Only since I was, like, ten years old. So what if we've only been going out a couple of weeks?

Pete leans forward for one final sweet kiss before walking me to my front door. He grabs my cell and pumps his fist when it displays eleven-fifty-nine. “Perfect timing.”

“I'll say.” I breathe, feet not yet touching the ground.

“See you Christmas Eve.”

“Okay.”

He says something else, I don't know what, but it doesn't matter anyway because my grandmother's opening the door and telling me it's midnight and I need to get inside. So I float up to my room and close the door where I fall onto my bed and think about wishes coming true.

I hardly sleep Friday night after hearing those three words from Pete, but I've got the weekend to come back down to earth and prepare for Christmas. Pete and I exchange gifts mid-day on Christmas Eve, after a long walk in the snow. It's almost our two-week anniversary, and he gives me a gold locket with our pictures inside. It is so thoughtful of him, though not something I would have chosen. Still, I wear it, as he says,
to show the world we're together.
I give him a new cell phone. Not as romantic, but he lost his somewhere at the mall and we text all the time, so it's practical.

I have Pete's locket around my neck at Midnight Mass that night and am fiddling with it when Joel catches my eye from the other side of the church. We're all singing carols, and so he has time for only a quick wave, which I return before our attention is taken by the priest's entrance. Though I don't go to church often these days, I still take comfort in the familiar ceremony.

I can't help noticing how Joel's little sister keeps sliding down the pew and into his side, trying to get his attention. Under the circumstances, most older brothers would tell their sisters to knock it off, but instead I see Joel pat her head and tuck her under his arm. I remember when he and his sister first came to St. Philomena last year, adopted from an inner-city foster home by the Brands, who had wanted children forever. When he started school, some of the smart alecks thought pronouncing his name
hole
was hilarious, claiming it better reflected his Mexican heritage. He let it roll right off him, and eventually they stopped, but I'm sure it bothered him, just as I disliked Beanie. Maybe that's why we bonded from the get-go. Even though I'm a townie, I never fit in, either.

I still want to figure out how to get him together with Leia. Those two will make a great couple, though they're not able to make it happen on their own. Leia clammed up when I asked her about the double date. Of course, I was careful not to call it that. She wouldn't even say if she had a good time. Maybe something interesting happened in the car later? I guess she'll tell me when she's ready.

I get distracted when I feel I'm being watched. Searching the pews, I notice the weird substitute teacher, Dr. Morocco, on the other side of the church. She's all alone, and seems ill-at-ease among the other parishioners. At first, I can't tell if she's staring at me, or if I'm imagining things. I'm puzzled, but then I see she's looking over at Joel, so maybe she's searching for familiar faces.

The next morning, Christmas Day, we sleep in, but I'm pleased to find a fancy hardback edition of
1,001 Arabian Nights
at my bedside when I wake up. I know it's kind of the last word on genies, and I'd been meaning to read it since finding out my true heritage. It was thoughtful of my grandparents to leave it for me. Under the tree is a pile of other books for me, exactly what I asked for. It had seemed silly to make a long list for Santa when I can wish for pretty much whatever I might want.

After a leisurely morning with my grandparents, I've been invited to Pete's house for afternoon tea. All of the women in his family bake up dozens of different types of cookies and gather at Pete's parents' house to sample them together.

Although St. Philomena is small, it's kind of spread out, and Pete and I live on the opposite ends of town. It would normally take me ten minutes to reach his place, and I'm further slowed by the slushy areas on the back roads not yet cleared from the snow that had fallen in the morning. It's my first time seeing his house and meeting his family, and I'm taken by the grand Victorian greeting me as I come around the final bend in the road. They've decorated it in style, with swag and white lights all over the exterior of the house and around the large yard.

A woman with a warm smile greets me at the door, looking like an older, female version of Pete.

“Hi, Mrs. Dillon,” I say shyly.

“You must be Genie. Welcome! I'm delighted to meet you. Come in, come in. Pete's in his room… Pete! Genie's here!” she calls up the stairs.

I hear the clatter of footsteps on the wooden stairs. Pete's face lights up when he sees me.

“You look… hot,” he tells me.

I blush at his words. Still shy, I'm glad to see his mother has gone to the rear of the house and didn't overhear his comment. All of the cars outside would suggest it's a full house, but it's quiet at the entryway.

“Everyone's in the family room. C'mon. I'll introduce you.” He sees my hesitation. “It'll be fine.”

Taking my hand, he leads me into the spacious, sparkling white, country-style kitchen, where Pete's two older sisters, currently in college, are taking a batch of cookies out of the oven. As we enter, they give me identical, perfect smiles, befitting their perfect bodies, perfect hair, and perfect outfits.

“No, they're not twins, don't ask,” Pete whispers in my ear.

But I remember Tracie and Kellie. They were still in high school when I started and are only a year apart. Both were captains of the dance squad in their senior years, and were the most popular girls in school. Gulping, I say, “Hi, it's nice to meet you. I'm Genie.”

“Oh,
this
is Genie,” Tracie, the older one, says to Pete. She raises one eyebrow as she looks me up and down. “I couldn't think of who Pete meant when he told us about you.”

“
I
know!” Kellie exclaims. “Beanie, right? You're Bean Pole,” she adds, though not too unkindly. “You were the tallest, skinniest thing I'd ever seen.”

“But she turned out great, right?” Pete says, throwing an arm around my shoulder then wagging a finger at his sisters. “And it's Genie, now. No more Beanie.”

Speechless, and embarrassed, I nod and can't think of anything to say. I'm being talked about as if I'm not even there, and their words remind me Pete is so out of my usual league, but I shake it off and smile to try to ease the tension.

We help his sisters bring the rest of the cookies into the family room, where I take in the amazing assortment filling the tables. Countless relatives fill the chairs and couches lining the window-filled walls, and they all welcome me, though I can't keep every name straight. I notice while the men help themselves to the cookies, the women select only a few, and even then take tiny bites.

When Kellie goes in for seconds, Tracie elbows her and again raises her eyebrow. “Oink,” she tells her quietly. Kellie catches her father's eye and he also shakes his head
no
.

I wonder if my wishes can make the cookies calorie-free. Somehow I doubt it, but it sure would be nice. Regardless, I have no hang-ups about eating, and I try a healthy sampling, focusing on the chocolate cookies. Pete grabs a few off my plate, but then gives me one back at my protests.

We sit together on the couch making small talk with his family for an hour before the alarm on my phone goes, reminding me it's time to get back to my grandparents for our own family dinner. I thank everyone for the cookies and conversation, and Pete walks me to the front hall.

“I think you were a hit,” he says and rewards me with a long kiss.

I'm less sure about the impression I've made, but am glad he's satisfied. I back him toward the doorway, where I kiss him under the mistletoe, pulling him closer to me after I check his family isn't around to see.

“Sneaky,” he says with a smile. I give him a final peck before we wish each other Merry Christmas, and I depart.

The rest of the break passes quickly, and I'm with Pete every day. We're slammed with a couple of good snowstorms, which inspires Pete to get together an old-fashioned sledding party. Ten of us take over the sledding hill behind the middle school in the late evening when there's a full moon, avoiding all of the little kids who were there during the day. I haven't done anything like this in years, and it's a total blast. I laugh so hard at some of the wipeouts that my sides ache. A few of the girls brought hot cocoa in thermoses, and we all gather around to share in their genius idea.

I'm at ease and comfortable with the group, almost like I fit in, but when they all decide to pile four-to-a-sled, cautious me can't say yes. Kaydee gives one of the other girls a knowing look.

“Come on. It'll be fun,” Pete whispers in my ear. I still shake my head. All I see is a broken neck in my future, even if everyone else is doing it.

Pete's whispers become more insistent, and I'm getting more irritated with all of them. Frustrated, I whisper back, “I'm sure it would be awesome, but I wish you would leave me alone right now!”

Immediately he walks over and starts talking to his friends. He peers over his shoulder at me, looking puzzled at the sudden change in our interaction. Well, at least he's not mad, I think.

I hear what sounds like a chuckle from the middle school building behind me. Peering into the shadows created by the moonlight, I hear rustling but see no one. Must be my imagination again. It seems like I've been jumping at every noise these days.

My name is being called to be the videographer while some of the guys, including Pete, decide to sled down the hill kneeling and with arms locked, three across. No one pressures me again, so I let myself enjoy the rest of the evening. It's cold, but we're all bundled up, and I brought chemical hand warmers to keep everyone pretty comfortable. By eleven o'clock everyone's tuckered out, and we decide to stop at a twenty-four-hour diner near the highway for a warm-up stack of pancakes before calling it a night. It's almost midnight by the time Pete drops me off, and I thank him with a generous kiss for coming up with such a great idea. He tries a little something more, but I hesitate and he backs off without missing a beat.

Between his good looks and being lots of fun, Pete's never suffered for want of friends. I have had a magical week with him already. My body is still sore from all of the laughing, and I tell Pete how happy he makes me. Kissing the tip of my nose, he calls me his pancake, with syrup on top.

Advice is what we ask for when we already know the answer but wish we didn't. — Erica Jong

Next thing I know, New Year's Eve comes along, and we're going over to the Hirsches' for their annual party. This year, I'm bringing Pete, too, at Luke's invitation. Luke doesn't know it, but Pete's aware of the nanosecond-long relationship Luke and I had. So, of course, Pete feels the need to monitor our interactions.

Pete arrives at my house a little before six o'clock. The four of us are getting ready to go when my grandfather remembers he wanted to bring wine as a hostess gift. “You go ahead,” he urges us. “I'll run to the packy and buy a bottle, maybe a nice merlot.”