Wishful Thinking

by Evangeline Anderson

  Phil could see where this was headed and apparently so could Cass.

  “That potion she made is attracting the teenagers because they’re all just bundles of hormones at that age,” she muttered to Phil. “But she almost got it right. If she would have tweaked it just a little bit…”

  “It would have attracted anything male in the vicinity,” Phil whispered back. “And apparently the longer someone is exposed to it…”

  “Someone with a Y chromosome, anyway.”

  “The stronger it gets,” Rory said, joining in the conversation. “I don’t think that Scout Master was all that interested in her at first but like he said, she’s been here forty-five minutes and now look at him.”

  They all did, watching as the Scout Master pushed past the boys that were milling around Nana and took her hand with awkward gallantry.

  “It took longer to work on him because he’s older but now…” Phil shook her head. “Just look at that! He’s actually kissing her hand.”

  “Okay, that’s enough.” Cass squared her shoulders. “She’s going to cause a riot in a minute and the last thing we need is a Boy Scout jamboree right here in the middle of the bowling alley. Come on.” She grabbed both Phil and Rory by the hands and Phil felt the familiar tingle of power run through her fingertips and up into her arms. Then Cass dragged them through the crowd of boys to where the starry-eyed Scout Master was still smooching Nana’s hand.

  “Your charm escaped me at first, dear lady,” he was murmuring. “But now I see that you are a woman of surpassing beauty.” His bald head gleamed in the dim overhead lighting as he leaned over her hand.

  “Hey, Scout Master Jenkins, do you mind?” the boy who had been teaching Nana to bowl protested. “I was gonna ask if the hot granny lady here wanted to go to Prom with me. How ’bout it, huh?” he asked Nana over the Scout Master’s shoulder, grinning to expose a silver mouthful of braces. “I’ll get a limo to pick you up in and everything. It’ll be hot.”

  “Hey—the hot granny lady is going to my prom with me!” growled another boy, puffing out his narrow chest. He had a bad case of adolescent acne but he was taller than the first boy and the Scout Master both by about a head and a half, Phil saw. Things were about to get out of control.

  “That’s enough, boys. The hot granny lad’ is coming with us.” Cass, Phil, and Rory were still holding hands as they surrounded their grandmother, forcing the Scout Master to relinquish her hand. The power of their blood wasn’t much alone, but they were stronger together. Strong enough, hopefully, to rescue Nana from her magically induced predicament.

  Hand in hand they shepherded their grandmother through the crowd of milling boys, Cass leading the way. A few of the boys looked to be almost Rory’s age but even though her baby sister was very pretty, not a single one of them glanced her way. They were all focused intently on Nana.

  “Oh, my, girls—did you see that?” Their grandmother put a plump hand to her heaving bosom, and widened her eyes dramatically. “I’m so close to a breakthrough. I must have just gotten the ratios a bit wrong.”

  “You certainly got something wrong,” Phil agreed, using her free hand to hold her nose. Their grandmother absolutely reeked.

  “Nana, we tried to warn you not to get mixed up in the Craft,” Cass said reprovingly as the girls continued to lead their grandmother though the crowd like a phalanx of bodyguards.

  “Yeah, Nana. You know fairies can’t do witchcraft,” Rory said, patting their grandmother’s arm.

  “Well now, that’s just an old wives’ tale!” Nana exclaimed, her jewel-green eyes sparkling with defiance. “I just wanted to attract a man and if I hadn’t used just a little too much hemlock… Oh, do we have to go now?” She looked around as they reached the edge of the milling crowd of teenage boys. “Goodbye, boys,” she trilled, fluttering her hand flirtatiously. “It was nice to meet you all. I’m sorry I have to leave.”

  There was some discontented grumbling and one of the boys yelled, “Hey, where are you taking her? Bring her back!”

  “Quick,” Phil whispered to Rory. “Do you have any perfume on you?”

  “Perfume?” Rory looked confused.

  “To cover the scent,” Cass hissed, catching on. “It’s that awful potion that’s egging them on—it smells like ass!”

  “Uh…” Rory fumbled in the pocket of her jeans with her free hand. “I have some breath spray—sparkling mint.”

  “That’ll do.” Phil grabbed the tiny cylinder from her sister’s hand and began spraying left and right. As the strong scent of the breath spray began to cover the stink of the potion, the Eagle Scouts and their Scout Master fell back, looking confused.

  “What the hell?” The boy with braces who had asked Nana out to his prom shook his head like a dog trying to get rid of a flea. “What happened?”

  “You asked my grandmother to go to the prom with you.” Cass grinned at him, a wicked twinkle in her violet eyes.

  “Shut up!” The Eagle Scout eyed Nana doubtfully. “I did not.”

  “You most certainly did, young man.” Nana frowned at him. “And to think I was almost considering it. But I’m afraid my answer will have to be a resounding no.” She lifted her head and marched proudly through the crowd, reminding Phil of a queen going into exile.

  Phil only wished that this experience would teach her grandmother a lesson. But if she knew her nana, it would only make her try harder the next time. If Nana decided she wanted a man, then by God, she would get one. Even if he was fifty years too young for her.

  Chapter Seven

  “I really have to get moving,” Phil said pointedly. “Christian is taking me out and I have to get home, get showered and dressed, and be ready by seven.”

  “Uh-huh.” Cass was still sitting in the front seat of the VW bug, which now smelled like dill pickles, cat pee, and minty fresh breath spray. The ride from Splitsville back to the big lavender mansion on States Street had been nearly unbearable, even with the windows wide open. Rory had already taken their grandmother inside, presumably to get a hot shower, but Cass hadn’t budged from the front seat.

  “Well?” Phil motioned that Cass should get out.

  “You asked me to help you think up a wish,” her younger sister reminded her. “Unless you thought of one back there during bowling for hormones?”

  “Oh my God!” In all the excitement, Phil had completely forgotten about her birthday wish. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was six ten. Five minutes. Just five minutes to decide on a wish that wouldn’t ruin her life.

  “Calm down,” Cass said, putting a hand on her arm. “There’s still plenty of time. You’ll make your wish and be home in time for your birthday dinner.”

  “It’s not a birthday dinner,” Phil said, without thinking about it. “We’re going out with some of his clients again—probably so he can use the expense account.”

  “What?” Cass immediately bubbled up with all the indignation that Phil couldn’t seem to express. “You’re kidding me? He forgot again?”

  “Yes, he forgot,” Phil muttered, wishing Cass didn’t always have to make everything so dramatic. “But I’ll remind him later and he’ll take me out some other time, I’m sure.”

  “Some other time isn’t good enough, Phil.” Cass’s pale cheeks were red with anger. “That jerk! He hasn’t treated you right from the first. Making you ditch law school to put him through first. And now he won’t marry you. And you just sit there and take it. Why don’t you say something? Anything? Do you want to be a doormat forever?”

  “No, all right?” Phil burst out. It was a controlled shout, but a shout nonetheless. “I’m tired of taking everything everyone dishes out and never saying anything about it.” Images of Mrs. Tessenbacker and the nasty little Doodle-bug flitted across her mind. “I’m tired of being taken advantage of,” she said, remembering the not-so-blind pencil boy. “I’m tired of listening to what everyone else has to say and never getting to speak my mind. And most of all I’m tired of
putting up with self-absorbed jerks who think they’re God’s gift.” This last was directed at the leering image of her boss she could see in her head. But Christian came to mind as well. Was it so difficult to remember her birthday once a year?

  Cass looked taken aback. “Well, er, good for your, Phil,” she began, but Phil wasn’t done.

  “You want to hear a wish?” This was as close to yelling as Phil had ever gotten. “I’ll tell you what I wish—I’m tired of keeping everything I think and feel all bottled up inside me all the time. I wish I could really speak my mind. That’s what I wish.”

  “Done,” a bored voice with a haughty British accent declared in her ear.

  “What?” Phil looked around wildly and saw that Cass was no longer alone in the front seat of the bug. Sitting on her lap was a tall, thin, blond woman who looked to be in her mid-forties. Which meant that in fairy years she was probably well over a thousand. She was wearing a pale pink designer suit and fashionable mauve slingbacks that looked suspiciously like Jimmy Choos, if they had Jimmy Choos in the Realm of the Fae, Phil thought, feeling dazed. Sprouting from her fairy godmother’s back was a large, glittery pair of pearlescent wings that didn’t look like they ought to be able to fit into the tiny confines of the bug.

  “I said done. It’s done. Your pathetic little wish is granted,” her fairy godmother elaborated.

  “But…I…” Phil felt the tingling rush throughout her body—the sign that a wish had been granted and that her life was already changed in some, as yet undefined way. Rory always said having a wish granted felt like your entire body was made of Pop Rocks and someone had dipped you in a Diet Coke. There was no mistaking the feeling.

  “Ah, articulate as ever, I see,” the FG said. She waved her glittering silver wand, nearly taking out Phil’s eye, and a long thin pink cigarette appeared. She pressed the end of the wand to her cigarette to light it and began to puff large clouds of noxious pink smoke in Phil’s direction.

  “Hey, there’s no smoking in my car,” Phil protested, choking on the pink smoke rings her fairy godmother was blowing. The tingling sensation was beginning to fade but she was afraid her troubles were just beginning.

  “And get your bony ass off my lap!” Cass spoke up, glaring around her godmother’s shimmering mother-of-pearl wings.

  “Honestly, the lack of gratitude in this smelly little vehicle is appalling,” the FG sniffed, not moving a muscle. “Do I or do I not come here year after year after year and grant your stupid little wishes? And the things you wish for—hot coffee, pretty shoes, good parking spaces. It’s sad what a lack of imagination you half-breeds have.”

  “You know, the only reason we make such mundane wishes is because your magic sucks. Either you don’t know how to use it or you don’t care. I can’t even count the number of times you’ve screwed up my life and my sisters’ lives.” Phil shut her mouth with a snap, unable to believe the words had actually come out of her lips. Cass was staring at her like she’d just stepped off a flying saucer. Their fairy godmother looked very offended.

  “Oh my God, I didn’t mean…” Phil put a hand to her mouth, shaking her head.

  “You most certainly did, you little upstart.” The FG waggled her wand at Phil and sniffed. “You know, this is the reason I gave you the gift of a lamb-like temperament when you were a child. You always were such a mouthy, bothersome little thing.”

  Phil felt a red rage growing inside her and this time, instead of bottling it up, she let it come right out her mouth. “You mean you cast that spell on me just to shut me up?” she demanded. “Don’t you know that you changed the whole course of my life? Without your ‘lamb-like temperament’ I’d probably be out of law school right now and starting my own practice. Instead I’m stuck in a dead end job with a boss that ought to be the poster boy for sexual harassment. And I’m living with a fiancé who won’t commit to a wedding date. Hell, he can’t even remember my birthday.”

  “As to that,” the fairy godmother snapped. “I wish I could forget it myself! Have fun speaking your mind, my dear. And don’t come crying to me if you don’t like it.” With a puff of acrid pink smoke, she disappeared, leaving Phil and Cass to choke and gasp until the noxious vapor faded, leaving only the scent of singed rose petals behind.

  “Oh my God, Phil!” Cass’s violet eyes were as wide as dinner plates. “Did you really just tell the FG off?”

  “I guess I did. I…I can’t believe it.” Phil peered anxiously in her rearview mirror as though expecting to see someone else. But her familiar high cheekbones and blond hair, along with eyes that were now a deep twilight blue (since the sun was beginning to set) were all that greeted her.

  “Wow, that was amazing!” Cass gushed. “You go, girl! You need to go home and tell that stupid Christian off for forgetting your birthday for the umpty-millionth time.”

  Phil looked at her sister. Cass might be right about Christian, but that didn’t mean that Phil had to put up with listening to it. Not any longer.

  “You know, I’m tired of hearing how stupid you think the life choices I made are,” she said, not even bothering to try and hold back. “I know you don’t like Christian and you think I’m an idiot for putting off law school. I know you think I should find a new job and you hate my car. But guess what, Cass? I am sick of hearing about it. So how about you put a cork in it for once and let me go home before my insensitive asshole of a fiancé blows his stack because I made him late to dinner with his new clients?”

  Cass just sat there, her jaw hanging open. Her eyes couldn’t have been any wider if Phil had just turned into a peacock and crapped in her lap.

  “Oh. My. God.” Her voice was low and hoarse. “Do you realize what you wished for, Phil? Just what I told you to wish for—a spine! This is amazing! This is fabulous! This is—”

  “This is it,” Phil finished for her. “I mean it, Cass. I’m glad you’re happy for me but I need to go. Now.”

  She left her younger sister still flabbergasted outside the big lavender house and put the bug in gear. It was getting late and there was no way she could make a seven o’clock dinner appointment, but Phil didn’t care. She had never felt so free.

  Chapter Eight

  “Today is actually my twenty-fifth birthday.” Phil kept her voice light and conversational but she still saw Christian wince out of the corner of her eye. Oh, yeah, he had definitely forgotten. But she would bet her last nickel he’d try to save face in front of his new clients, Minnie and Michael Vance.

  “Yup, she’s twenty-five today.” Her fiancé put his arm around her shoulders and grinned across the table at the Vances. Minnie was wearing a slimming off the shoulder black gown and Michael was dressed in a charcoal gray suit. Phil herself was wearing a shimmery blue sheath that Christian had bought her as an I’m-sorry-I-forgot-your-birthday present the year before. She had been certain that seeing her wear the gown would jog his memory but it became more and more clear as the night went on that he had completely forgotten…again.

  Throughout the meal Phil had been speaking her mind as she never had before, even going so far as to send back her steak for being too rare even though she never sent anything back. She knew Christian was wondering what the hell was going on with her but she was enjoying herself too much to stop. And the Vances seemed to enjoy her witty conversation. She didn’t know them very well, so telling them exactly what she thought seemed easy and impersonal. She found she liked feeling like the life of the party, instead of being a shy wallflower in Christian’s golden shadow.

  “Twenty-five years old,” Christian repeated again, as though he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “The last five have been the longest,” Phil continued, still in the same conversational tone of voice. “That’s how long I’ve been with Christian. Let me ask you something, Minnie. Can I call you Minnie?” Mrs. Vance seemed flustered but she nodded just the same. “Thank you, Minnie,” Phil said. “What I want to ask is this—what would you do if Mister Vance there
forgot your birthday?”

  “Well…” Minnie Vance gave her husband a sidelong look. “I think somebody would be sleeping on the couch for a while. We ladies like to have our special dates remembered, don’t we, Philomena?”

  “Please, call me Phil.” Phil smiled at her and had another sip of wine. She’d gone through almost an entire bottle all by herself but she didn’t feel the least bit drunk. In fact, she felt marvelous.

  “Phil!” Christian protested. “Babe, don’t be that way. You know I didn’t forget.”

  “Oh really?” Phil arched an eyebrow at him and took another sedate sip of her wine. “Well, you see, Christian, that’s actually more insulting than if you did forget it. Minnie and Michael seem like wonderful people, but do you really want me to think that you planned to entertain them on my birthday? I mean, honestly, Minnie,” she said, turning to Mrs. Vance again. “Do you think it’s appropriate? Not that I haven’t enjoyed meeting you both.” The last statement was absolutely true. The Vances seemed like people she wouldn’t mind hanging out with more often. Just not on her birthday.

  Minnie looked uncomfortable. “Er, well…” she began.

  “Excuse us.” Christian was up and out of his chair, one hand wrapped tightly around Phil’s upper arm. Before she could protest, he had dragged her away from the dinner table and into the dark hallway that led to the expensive Italian restaurant’s bathrooms.

  “Okay, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded as soon as they were alone.

  “You’re hurting me.” She looked down at his fingers, which had gone white at the knuckles.

  “Well you’re killing me,” he snarled, not loosening his grip. “All night long you’ve been dominating the conversation. What gives, Phil? Did you forget this is a business dinner?”

  “I’m speaking my mind for once in my life,” she shot back. “Any you know what, Christian? It feels great. It feels great to be able to say what I want instead of hiding in your shadow, hoping you’ll throw me a crumb once in a while.”