Three Wishes (21 page)
Authors: Deborah Kreiser
“That was â what was that?” he stutters. “Your aura â you're glowing â how?”
Oh, come on. My aura? Really?
“This one's perfect. How much is it?” I'm playing it cool, avoiding his questions as I palm the tet. It fits perfectly in my hand. A sense of well-being and safety washes over me, and I glance around the room, amazed at how sharp all of the edges have become. I don't wear glasses, but this must be what it's like when you get a new prescription.
“Uh,” he fumbles for the price list under the counter. “The, uh, aquamarine is thirty dollars.”
I let him ring me up, putting it on the extra credit card I keep for emergencies. This is something I
have
to have, of course. We complete the transaction, and I start walking toward the door. “Robert, you've been great. Thank you so much for all of your help,” I say, the bell tinkling again at my departure, “but I wish you would forget you saw me here today.” I peer back in through the window without him noticing, and he's staring off into space. As I watch, he shakes his head out of his daze and reenters the back of the store through the beaded curtain.
Satisfied, I remove my new tet from the small paper bag marked with the store's logo and hold it while I get in the car. I press the tet to my heart, feeling attached to it already. The giddiness I felt from buying my prom dress has nothing on this purchase. It's like I swam the best race of my life. I'm on a total high and keep giggling to myself. I'm glad my GPS is programmed now to take me back to the mall, because I don't think I could have focused enough to retrace my route.
By the time I return to the mall, I've gotten myself under control again. No one is paying attention to me, anyway. Joanne's still not satisfied with the dresses she's tried on, while Taylor has had success. She, too, credits Marc for his help. I'm pleased to see my old friend being welcomed into my new crowd.
As usual, my audibly growling stomach reminds everyone it's getting close to lunchtime.
“Hungry, much?” Joanne inquires, arching one of her carefully-plucked eyebrows.
I sigh, nodding my head.
“I'm famished,” Marc says, seeing my expression. “Who's ready to eat? How about the Indian place? It's to die for.”
Marc and I are the only ones interested in Indian food, so we compromise by going to the all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet adjacent to the mall. “I'd better be careful or I won't be able to fit into my dress,” Maddy worries.
Taylor and Joanne exchange a look, but I reassure Maddy one lunch isn't going to do her in. Still, I am careful to focus on the lower-calorie offerings and limit myself to one additional trip to the buffet. I don't know if I can wish myself slim, but I don't want to find out the hard way, and I don't want any comments from Pete.
After lunch, we go back to the mall â though I'm growing tired of shopping now that my own errands are done â and with Marc's help, Joanne finally finds a dress. It's not carried in the small dress boutique we're in, but they have it in their catalogue, and Joanne tries on a similar dress to make sure the fit is right. As she's paying for her order, to be shipped to her house, Marc announces he has to get going. The girls let out a collective “Aw, no!” that makes him smile. I walk him to the front of the store, and he tells me he has to go find a tuxedo, but prefers to do it alone.
“I've got a prom date, too,” he says, but when I press him for more details, he says it's going to be a surprise.
“You
sure
you don't want company?” I ask.
“Nope, I know exactly what I want. I have to be fitted at the rental place. The only accessory I haven't been able to find anywhere are a pair of diamond
M
cufflinks.” He sighs. “I refuse to order jewelry over the Internet, though. I mean, I'll settle for cubic zirconia at this point.”
Aha!
Finally I can wish something up for him I know he'll actually like. But this will be a little tricky. “Oh, bummer. I should have pointed them out to you at the store where I found my dress. I swear I saw some at their jewelry counter.”
He waggles a finger at me. “You are
my
lucky charm, girl. I've gotta scootch and get them before someone else does.”
I wish him luck finding the cufflinks and tell him I'll see him at school.
The girls and I make one more stop at the accessory store, where we each buy sparkly hair clips and jewelry, then take our final leave of the mall. We're all pretty tired in the car, and our conversation becomes funnier as we start getting punchy and giddy. All in all, it was a good day. Maybe the best one I have had since my big fight with Leia.
After I drop everyone off at home, I unload all of my packages and sink into bed to hold and gaze at my tetrahedron again, enveloped in feelings of well-being and clarity. At five o'clock in the afternoon, I relax into a long, dreamless nap and don't wake up until dinner.
Wish is the most powerful thing in the world. Higher than God.
â G.I. Gurdjieff
Not even two weeks later, I'm surprised to see Dr. Morocco again standing at the front of my math classroom.
I thought she was done with me.
I dismiss my mother's warnings echoing in my head. I can handle whatever's coming. Now that I know who she is, I'm more cautious around her, but I know I can't reveal what I know, as I would then have to tell her about my mom's diary. I don't want anyone to know about that, least of all her.
Once again, this math class has nothing to do with calculus. Instead, Dr. Morocco fills the forty-seven minutes with a lecture about time, quoting Stephen Hawking, and discussing means of measuring time and space.
The other students seem engaged, but my only interest in the subject is how quickly the clock can move to get me out of this class. It seems like much longer than the usual class period, and I'm about to go stir-crazy.
At last, the bell rings.
As before, Dr. Morocco asks me to stay after school, but this time I'm expecting it, and I'm a bit better prepared. At least this time I know it's not because I'm in trouble, though it's a small comfort, since I don't know what she wants to discuss.
I get through the rest of the day and tell Pete I'll make it home some other way, but he insists he'll hang out with some of his friends while he's waiting for me. “Sounds good to me,” I agree. Based on our last encounter, I don't know how I'll feel after this session with Dr. Morocco.
When the final bell rings, I go to my locker, lingering as long as I can before facing her. I'm trying to think ahead to figure out what this conversation is going to be about, but my mind is blank. I have no idea what is left for me to learn about being a genie.
So glad the diary is helping, Mom
, I snark to myself. Well, that's not quite fair, but still, it would be so much better if I had grown up with a genie instead of fumbling my way through this whole process.
I can't delay any more without the risk of upsetting Dr. Morocco, so I trudge to the classroom and enter. The lights are off. She's not at the front of the room. I let out a sigh of relief â have I escaped? â but then see her peel away from the shadows at the back of the classroom. Her luminous beauty is somehow emphasized, not diminished by the low light. She approaches me with a smile on her face, but I am not sure if it's benevolent or not. What does she want from me?
“Let me see it,” she barks without preamble. When I hesitate, confused, she gives me a skeptical look and specifies. “Your tetrahedron. I know you have it.”
Gulping, I take my tet out of the inside pocket of my purse, where I've been keeping it most of the time. Since buying it, I can't bear parting with it for more than a few moments. It sounds silly, but even when I take showers I've been putting it in the soap dish. I open my hand to reveal the aquamarine stone in my palm. It catches some of the ambient light from the hallway and gleams with an energy that meets the gleam in Dr. Morocco's eyes as she observes it.
“Well done,” she says under her breath â just loud enough I know she meant me to hear â as she stares at my beautiful crystal. Oddly, she seems proud. Odder yet, I feel pleased. And then her hand twitches, and for a moment I think she's going to snatch the tet from me. The moment passes and she snaps to attention, shrewd eyes back on me. “So, how do you feel now?”
I take a breath, thrown off by her mercurial responses. “You were right. I needed a tetrahedron. I feel centered, calm, focused â like you said.”
“Powerful?” she asks, eyebrow arched.
There's a twist in my stomach. “Yes.”
“Then you're ready.”
“Forâ¦?”
With an exasperated sigh, she orders me to take a seat then paces in circles around me. I'm worrying the tetrahedron in my hand, rubbing each side, over and over. Shaking her head, she stops after the fifth time around and wheels to face me. “Did you know a djinni can stop time?”
“Stop â what? How?”
“Well,
powerful
djinn can. You're only demi-djinn,” she says with a slight wrinkle to her nose. “Odds are you won't be able to do it. But you should try. Practice makes perfect.”
In my mind, I hear Leia's pathetic character impersonation:
“Do, or do not. There is no try.”
Dr. Morocco's dig was either meant to antagonize or inspire me. I'm going to choose to believe it's the latter and smile through gritted teeth. We've been speaking in half-light, so when she throws the switch, the sudden brightness hurts my eyes. Blinking madly, I wait for further explanation.
“You have to be able to see the clock, of course,” she says, her pupils constricting.
“So, what do I need to do?”
“Just⦠focus. And hold back time.”
I suppose I could choose to walk away from this woman and this weird test, but at this point I see it as a challenge. Gulping, I shift in my seat and bring both hands together around the tetrahedron. I think back to when I was in the hospital and I saved my grandfather. That was a while ago, before I had my tet, and when I wasn't so close to my birthday and my full genie powers. I'm hoping these things work in my favor, because I'm not going to back down now.
I empty my mind of everything but the sound of the ticking clock. I can hear Dr. Morocco humming a familiar tune, but I can't stop to figure it out now, as I'm concentrating on the second hand making its way, second by second, around the clock face. I could wish this particular clock to stand still, I realize, but I know Dr. Morocco would see right through that. I have to prove myself to her.
I imagine I'm in the internal mechanism, bracing myself against the movement of time, and speak my wish aloud: “I wish I could stop time.” At first nothing happens, but the imaginary Genie keeps straining against the clockworks. Holding my breath, I'm tensing my muscles, pushing, pushing, and then, almost imperceptibly, the second hand slows, like a hiccup, until it shudders to a stop.
I'm putting everything I have into this moment, and I hear Dr. Morocco, as if at a distance: “That's fine. Now start it up again.” But her voice is distorted, like a record at the wrong speed. I risk a glance in her direction and I'm seeing her through a frosted glass, her features abnormally stretched as she speaks.
Inhaling, I realize, now it's stopped, I can relax into this moment. My own movements seem lightning fast. I wiggle my fingers in front of my face, and they're so quick, they're blurry. My laugh sounds like a chipmunk on helium. I'm ready to celebrate, but I see Dr. Morocco's head, ever so slowly, shaking side to side, her mouth forming a
no
.
Grumpy, now â this is what she asked me to do, after all â I utter a whisper-quick wish for time to start again, and it's all back to normal.
Does Dr. Morocco look pale?
It's hard to tell, but she switches off the light and takes a seat at the teacher's desk at the front without speaking.
“So, how did I do?” I inquire at last.
“That was dangerous,” she answers after a few beats. “Stopping time is something you should only do in rare circumstances. It can have unintended consequences. The djinni who makes the wish is the only one unaffected. Other djinn can work through it, but the rest of the world is immobilized. It can be traumatic. You got lucky this time.”
Exasperated, I say, “Then why did you tell me to do it?”
“If I had had any idea you could â you would â well, that you were so powerful, I never would have done it.”
I'm flattered. “So, does that mean I'm, like, super powerful?”
“It doesn't matter. That's enough for today. You must leave.”
Like the last time, she ushers me out the door as if she's late for a date. Unlike our previous encounter, though, I feel exhilarated, if a little dizzy. I stumble on my way to find Pete, and he catches me as I semi-fall through the doorway leading outside.
“Genie? Are you okay?” he asks, but I give him a goofy grin and pat him on the cheek.
“Just peachy,” I giggle.
“What are you, drunk?” Then he laughs, realizing how ridiculous it sounds. Still, I'm sure I don't seem myself, and I let him give me a piggyback ride to his car.
“Babe, you're acting weird. I'm going to take you out to eat now, okay?”
“Ohhkayyyy,” I say. “How about Grillin' Joe's? I lo-o-o-ove their black bean burgers! With ex-x-xtra avocado!”
Holding me close, he lowers me into the passenger seat of his SUV and clicks me in. I let out a big yawn and feel my eyes close, worn out from using so much power. Moments later, he kisses me awake, whispering, “We're at the restaurant.”
“So soon?” I groan and struggle to keep my eyes closed.
“Come on. I went for a long drive and sat at the beach for, like, thirty minutes. You've been out for almost an hour.”
I glance at my cell and see he's telling the truth. It's almost 5:00 p.m. “I better callâ”
“Don't worry,” he interrupts. “I already texted your grandmother to let her know you wouldn't be home for dinner.”
I like it when he takes care of me. He brushes away the strands of hair that had stuck to my cheek while I was sleeping, and I lift my lips to his. I'm now electrified, rejuvenated from my nap, and our kiss gets deeper and more urgent. I let my hands rove and feel him responding. At last, Pete breaks it off with a gasp, glancing around the parking lot. It's filling up with cars carrying locals, ready for the weeknight dinner specials.
“You know I'm totally into this, babe, but not here in the parking lot. Let's save it for, you know, later.”
“No one's looking,” I argue, pulling his mouth back to mine, but after a little more kissing he grabs my hands and holds them to my sides.
“Whoa, there, cowgirl. I said not here.”
I'm quiet for a moment, deflated, but then ask in a small voice, “Why not here?” It's usually Pete pressuring me, not the other way around. “I'm confused.”
“Because I said so. And there's Kaydee and her grandmother getting out of the car over there. You want her to see us making out?”
They're at the far side of the parking lot, so he's right, but still I grumble. I doubt they would have noticed us, anyway.
I don't know if I'm feeling genie power or hormones raging through me, but I've got to get under control. We enter the restaurant, and I head to the bathroom before we're even seated. In the mirror I note my flushed cheeks and over-bright eyes. The toilet flushes behind me and Kaydee emerges from the stall, smirking when she sees me.
I say nothing to her but wash my hands and pat a paper towel dampened with cold water along the back of my neck and my arms. That helps. She ignores me and doesn't even bother washing her hands â
so gross!
â but fixes her lipstick and smoothes her eyebrows.
As she starts to leave, I sigh with relief that I've avoided any snarky comments about my appearance, but as the door closes behind her I hear, “Next time, get a room, slut!”
I see my surprise reflected in the mirror, and for a moment I'm so stunned, I can't react. For all the teasing about my height and my wild hair, no one's ever spoken to me like that before. Tears well up and a sick feeling rises in my stomach. My breath is shaky as I try to focus for a full minute. Then a flush spreads over my cheeks and through my body as the tears turn to anger.
Who is she to talk to me like that?
There was nothing wrong with what we were doing, and besides, it's none of her business.
I'll fix her,
I think, eyes narrowing as I examine myself. “I wish Kaydee wouldâ” and manage to stop myself.
Get a grip, Genie. You can't be vindictive, or you're no better than she is.
But it's oh so tempting. I can almost see the proverbial devil on my shoulder, telling me to teach Kaydee who's boss.
Why not make my own wishes come true?
I ask myself, frustrated.
You know why. You can't be tempted to use your power for selfish reasons,
my internal war continues, along with the rush of hormones, or whatever it is, which had started to dissipate.
I close my eyes and take deep, calming breaths, grabbing the tetrahedron in my purse and stroking it rhythmically to calm myself. My heart, which had been racing, slows to a manageable rate. After a few minutes, I'm able to leave the bathroom and find Pete at a private corner booth, which is out of sight of wherever Kaydee is sitting.
“You okay?” he asks, concerned. “You were in there a while.”
“Ahem, yeah, girl stuff.” I am so not telling him about Kaydee.
“Say no more. Please.”
“Happily.” We're both silent for a moment then speak simultaneously.
“So what didâ”
“Are youâ”
We stop and laugh. “You first,” I urge.
“Okay, babe. Are you hungry?”
I ponder the question. I pretty much always have an appetite, but it was quashed by everything else that's been going on this afternoon. Peeling away the emotions, though, I realize: “Famished.”
He catches the waitress' attention and orders himself a burger with the works and a black bean burger for me with broccoli on the side â “You don't want the fries, do you, babe?” â with a diet cola. Some things never change, I guess.
After dinner, I'm sleepy again and ask him to take me home. He stops in a nearby parking lot and tries to get me going, but whatever was surging through me earlier has now dissipated, and I'm not interested. He heaves a huge, exaggerated sigh and grumbles he should have taken advantage of the earlier situation as he drives me home. I give him a placating kiss when we get there.
“I do love you,” I say. “Thanks for taking care of me tonight. I know my moods are all over the place.”
“Well, I guess I now know why â
girl stuff.
” He grins, willing to be soothed. He takes me in his arms for a gentle hug, and I relax, snuggling my head into his shoulder. He smells spicy and comforting. He smells like home. I can feel the beat of his pulse against my forehead, and he strokes my hair in silence for a while.
