by Rose David
I opened the door and found Sean standing on the front porch, holding a small cluster of flowers. “What’s that?” I asked.
His face fell a little. “I don’t know, I figured--”
“Is that your friend?” Mom called.
“Fabry, why don’t you come in for a second?” I stepped aside. After Sean shuffled in, I announced, “Mom, Dad, this is Sean Fabry. Sean, these are my parents.”
They all exchanged quiet hellos and polite smiles. Then Sean looked at me expectantly, as if there was something I should do (though I had no idea what it might be). I could only shrug and tilt my head toward the door, toward escape.
“We’d better go--” I began.
“These are for you--”
Sean and I spoke up at the same time. Now it was my turn to stare questioningly.
He stepped forward and held the flowers out. “These are for you, Mrs. Sadat.”
Mom blinked. “For me?”
“Uh-huh. Layla said you liked fresh flowers. Didn’t you, Layla?”
“I don’t think so,” I said.
Sean’s lips twitched into a smirk that made it clear I had given the wrong answer.
“Well, I guess I did,” I added. “Like, yesterday. Maybe.”
Sean nodded and handed them over to Mom. “Right. I hope you like these.”
Mom traced a finger along the soft petal of a daisy, and then smiled up at Sean. “These are beautiful. Thank you.”
Dad’s expression had curved into something between a smirk a smile. He reached out and shook Sean’s hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise, sir.”
Jeez, was I missing something? It seemed like the three of them knew exactly what to say. Meanwhile, I hadn’t even gotten the script. “Can we go now?” I blurted.
Mom frowned. “Layla.”
“Sorry,” I said, a blush creeping to my cheeks.
After a few minutes of totally casual conversation (yeah, right), Sean and I finally said goodbye. As we settled down inside his (non-stolen) car, he said, “That went okay.”
‘Okay’ was one word for it. ‘Excruciating’ was another. “Thanks for not looking like a car thief.” I exhaled a long breath. “And the flowers were a nice touch. When’d you think of that?”
Sean shrugged and steered the car out of my driveway. “I’ve done this a time or three.”
“Oh, I see. So you’ve got a whole routine? Buy flowers for the moms and call the dads ‘sir’?”
“Actually, I...” He stopped and shook his head. “Never mind.”
“What were you going to say?”
“Nothing.”
I groaned. “I hate it when you do that.”
“I was just going to tell you how I used these things called ‘manners,’” Sean said, chuckling. “Ever heard of them?”
I stuck my tongue out. “Thanks, Emily Post.”
Traffic was light as we cruised downtown, where Sean’s mom went to law school at night. Our plan was to visit her between classes, then head over to his dad’s apartment so we could take care of all the magical crap in one night.
Sean’s second wish was going to need a little bit more work than the Aston Martin. First, we’d had to hammer out what “back together” really meant. I knew Sean wouldn’t be happy with the two of them pining for each other from afar (which might have happened considering their complicated history), so I suggested a more concrete alternative: a kiss.
It sounded like some fairy-tale cliché, but making them want to kiss really meant making them fall back in love. I knew from the old stories (including a Disney movie or two) that I couldn’t force people to feel things that weren’t already there--love, hate, whatever. We had found, though, that I could bring out existing feelings if I concentrated hard enough. It seemed to work better if I was in the same room with the person, which was why we were going to see Sean’s parents tonight.
As we pulled into the law school parking garage, I smiled as I remembered how a starry-eyed Sean had raved for an hour about he loved Battlestar Galactica, “Sooo much, Layla. So-o-o much!”
I had been tempted not to wish him back to normal, but Sean had been so trusting that it seemed kind of evil to betray him, no matter how adorably big his smile was when I agreed to watch the show’s first season with him.
Sean led me through the garage and into the school itself. I had always imagined law schools as old-fashioned and ivy-covered, but this one was all sleek blue glass and polished metal, the kind of place that promised free Wi-Fi and a plug-in for every laptop.
We found Sean’s mother in a big commons area filled with cushy chairs. She sat among a cluster of students, most of them older. When she saw us, she smiled and waved, though I thought I saw her brow furrow in recognition as she looked at me.
I bit my lip and followed Sean forward, even as my chest gave a nervous twist. Did she recognize me from the other night? The door had been almost open when I turned myself invisible...
Come to think of it, couldn’t I have just become invisible tonight, instead of meeting Sean’s mother? It was weird that I hadn’t thought about it until now, but I shrugged it off. This was probably easier than being accidentally felt up by some distracted law student. (Never mind another sprain.)
Sean’s mother stood to greet us. “Hey! Thanks for visiting,” she said brightly. “This must be Layla.”
“Hi...” I trailed off. What did you call someone who was divorced? Mrs., Ms., Miss? After a moment, I settled for, “It’s really nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, of course.” She came toward me, and I held out my hand for a shake. I was surprised when Sean’s mom wrapped me in a quick hug, instead. The smell of vanilla perfume lingered as she pulled away. After that, I knew I should say something, but the only thing I could think of was, “You smell really nice.”
I expected her to ask her son what the hell he was doing with this weird girl, but Sean’s mom only chuckled. “Thanks. It’s been a while since I heard that.”
I laughed; Sean fidgeted. I liked her already.
“Mom,” he said.
Her eyes glinted with amusement, but she changed the subject. “All right, all right. So, where are you two headed tonight?”
“Dinner, movie, stuff like that.” Sean shrugged. “How are classes?”
“Oh, great. Today we’re taking bets on who Professor Jerome will terrorize in class. At least it’ll make me more sympathetic when I cross-examine someone.” She grinned. When Sean’s mother smiled, the resemblance between them was suddenly obvious.
Which reminded me why we were here. Time to get back to work on Wish Number Two. “Umm, Mrs.... I mean, Ms....”
“Jennifer,” she told me, resting a quick hand on my shoulder. “Just Jennifer.”
“Right. Jennifer.” I gave her a tight smile. “Jennifer, could you tell me where the ladies’ room is?”
She pointed toward a door at the opposite corner of the room, and I headed over, weaving through the mass of wandering students. I ducked into the restroom, pausing at the mirror to put on a fresh coat of lip-gloss.
A minute later, I stepped back into the commons room. Squinting through the crowd, I found Sean and his mother still chatting across the room. Are they talking about me? I wondered.
For a second, I considered wishing for super-sonic hearing or even telepathy, but decided against it. What did I care what they were saying about me (if they even were saying anything about me)?
Besides, having superpowers was not something I wanted to play with again. Like Spider-Man always said, with great power comes great responsibility. So far, I couldn’t even convince my parents I was mature enough to go to summer camp, let alone be a superhero. And spandex isn’t exactly flattering.
I took a deep breath and focused on Sean’s mother, Jennifer, trying to drown out every other sight or sound. In a big room full of people, it was easier said than done. I concentrated for a long moment, but my magic wouldn’t come.
; I wandered through the crowd again, but instead of returning to Sean and his mother, I ducked behind a metal column nearby. They were in spitting distance now, but I still couldn’t hear what they were saying.
Not that I wanted to hear them or anything.
With Jennifer so close, it was easier to focus my magic. I shut my eyes, letting my mind go blank.
The smell of vanilla wafted to my nose, sweet but heavy. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, up through my windpipe and into my throat. I let out a long sigh, and when I opened my eyes, I knew in my bones that the first part of the wish was finished.
I watched Jennifer pause in mid-sentence, her eyes turning even brighter than before. A slow, dreamy smile spread over her mouth. She looked beautiful but... different.
And maybe not in a good way.
I moved out of my hiding spot, biting my lip. I didn’t think I had caused any damage, but she looked so starry-eyed that I had to make sure she was okay. “Jennifer?” I asked. “Can you hear me?”
“Mom?” said Sean, worry creeping into his voice.
Jennifer blinked and shook her head, still smiling. “I’m sorry, guys, what were we talking about?” she asked, her words coming out blessedly clear and brain-damage-free. “Looks like I need some coffee tonight.”
Sean and I let out sighs of relief.
“I’ll get some from the caf,” said Sean, trying (unsuccessfully) to tuck down a grin. “Anything you want, Mom.”
#
“I haven’t seen her like that in a really long time,” Sean said later as we coasted out of the parking garage.
“No kidding. She looked really pretty,” I said. “Not like a mother at all.”
He looked away from the road just long enough to smirk at me.
“You know what I mean,” I said.
“She’s just tired a lot, that’s all. She works all day and she’s in school pretty much every night.”
“Wow.” I shuddered. “That sucks.”
“Sometimes. But she’s only got two years left.”
Only was not a word I would ever have put in front of two years, but I nodded. “How long has she wanted to be a lawyer?”
Sean looked thoughtful. “Let’s see... I’m almost seventeen, so I guess like, eighteen years?”
I tilted my head, curious.
“She and Dad met in college,” he said. “After they graduated, they were going to go to get married and go to law school together, but then she had me.”
“Oh. Sorry.” As the words left my mouth, I winced. “I mean, not sorry, I just...”
Sean shook his head. “It’s cool. I know what you mean.”
“Yeah. Okay.” Before I could embarrass myself anymore, I changed the subject. “So, does your dad live near here?”
“Yeah. He’s got an apartment right outside downtown. We’re almost there.”
I nodded. In the meantime, I focused on not saying anything completely offensive, which seemed difficult for me tonight.
A few minutes later we pulled into an apartment complex with lots of pretty trees and well-manicured bushes. Sean pulled into a spot in front of one of the buildings and sighed. “Here goes nothing.”
We stepped out of the car, and I followed Sean to a door on the ground level. He knocked, and soon a good-looking man appeared at the door. Unlike his mother, the resemblance between Sean and his dad was obvious.
“Hey, this is a nice surprise,” said Sean’s father. His eyes were wide as he looked between Sean and me, but his mouth curved into an easy smile.
“Hi, Dad,” Sean said, his voice duller than usual. “This is Layla.”
“Hello,” was my incredibly clever reply.
We all stared at each other for a long, uncomfortable second, until Sean’s dad broke the silence by inviting us inside. The apartment was pretty big--or maybe it was just the lack of furniture that made it look that way.
Sean’s dad motioned for us to sit, so we settled down on the small sofa. “You two want something to drink?” he asked.
Sean and I spoke at the same time:
“Coke, please,” I said.
“No, thanks,” said Sean.
I raised my eyebrows at Sean, who only stared down at his lap.
“Coke it is,” Sean’s father said, not missing a beat. He handed me a warm-ish can from the refrigerator. There was nowhere else to sit, so he stood awkwardly to one side. “Hey, Sean, did you get my messages about the game this weekend?”
“I don’t think so,” said Sean, though he didn’t look even a little bit surprised.
His father’s face fell for a quick second, but he only smiled again. “That’s fine. I got tickets from one of the guys at work, so I thought we might go together.”
Sean shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Just think about it.” Sean’s dad took a deep breath. “So, you a baseball fan, Layla?”
I smiled. “Love it. Go...” Crap, what was the name of our baseball team?
“Indians,” Sean muttered.
“We’re the Indians?” I said, wrinkling my nose. “That’s kind of racist.”
In spite of himself, Sean coughed out a chuckle. He took a second to phase back into a half-glower before pulling a crumpled photo out of his pocket. “Actually, I wanted to bring you something, Dad.”
“Thanks, buddy.” Sean’s father took the small photograph. He placed it on a bookshelf nearby, propping it against the latest Dean Koontz novel. “Now I just need to find a frame for it somewhere.”
From its perch on the bookshelf, Sean’s school picture gave us a dimpled smile, looking entirely different from the sullen boy sitting beside me. In the silence that fell, I observed the vague beat of an upstairs neighbor’s stereo. I tried to figure out the song, but came up empty.
I stood and, lady-like as ever, told the Fabrys, “I need to pee.”
Sean’s father pointed me to a door at the end of a short hallway, right next to a sparsely furnished bedroom. I lingered just outside.
Shutting my eyes, I took another deep breath and emptied my mind of thoughts. Abruptly, the spicy scent of aftershave tickled my nose. My chest fluttered with a pleasant nervousness, and I braced myself against the wall as I tried to regain my bearings.
The second part was done. Now all we had to do was wait for the kiss.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Four days had passed since I’d met Sean’s parents, and so far, I hadn’t keeled over. Not that I expected them to kiss in the middle of a weekday (adults never did romantic stuff like that), but I still felt a little nervous as I ate lunch with Nat and Raj on Wednesday afternoon.
Today we were gorging ourselves at Wong’s, the Chinese buffet down the street from school. They had the best peanut chicken in the city, which might have been why my pants felt so tight right now.
“It’s sort of an open mic variety show,” Raj said between mouthfuls of sweet and sour pork. “There’s going to be musicians, poets, stuff like that. I heard one guy might bring in a trained poodle.”
Nat smiled, but her lips were pressed tighter than usual.
“And it’s open to anybody who signs up. I’m probably going to play something original,” Rajesh said, his gaze hanging hopefully on Nat.
“That’s cool,” Nat said, suddenly looking very interested in her water glass.
I looked between Raj and Natalie, biting my lip. “I, umm, think I need more chicken.” Wow, that wasn’t obvious or anything. Still, after my weird encounter with the Fabry men last Saturday, I’d had enough of awkward silences for a while.
I carried my half-full plate back over to the buffet. Once I was in smelling-distance of the big warming tray of peanut chicken, I couldn’t help but grab a few extra pieces. Like, just in case. Maybe the zombie apocalypse would come, and this would be the last time I would ever eat Wong’s peanut chicken.
I shuddered at the thought and spooned some extra peanut sauce on to my plate for good measure.
Nat appeared beside me with a hea
vy sigh. “It’s not like I don’t want to perform someday,” she said by way of greeting. “I like singing and stuff, I just want to wait until I get better.” She let out a soft breath. “I guess it’s kind of stupid.”
“It’s not,” I replied, because that was what a good friend would say. Really, I thought Nat’s stage fright was kind of stupid--she had the best voice out of anyone I knew. “But, I mean, you have sort of performed in front of people, haven’t you?”
“Oh, you guys don’t count.”
I chuckled. “Thanks a lot.”
“Layla--”
“Just breathe, Nat. I know what you mean.” I moved on to the dessert aisle, considering the variety of candied things on display. My jeans felt ready to burst, but it never hurt to browse a little, did it? “Anyway, you sang on your submission video. Someone liked it enough to let you into the program.”
“That’s different.”
“It so isn’t.”
“It is. That was just me and a camera, not a room full of people.” Nat ladled a sliced banana from a puddle of red syrup, plunking it on to her plate. “I can’t believe you haven’t heard from the admissions people yet. I thought you’d find out right after me.”
“Yeah, I guess I’ll just have to keep waiting.”
Nat squinted at me. “You seem pretty relaxed about it all of the sudden.”
She was right; if it hadn’t been for all the wish-drama, I would been a lunatic by now, but over the past week or so, I had barely had time to think about arts camp.
“I’ve been sneaking the Quaaludes,” I said with a smile. “Oh! Hey, stay still.” I took out my camera and snapped a photo of Natalie’s dessert plate. Up close, it was hard to tell if that was a banana, or a severed finger.
(It was better than snapping another photo of my sneakers, okay? Besides, maybe I could print it out later and use it to scare Sean.)
Nat and I made our way back to the table, where Raj was careful not to bring up any open-mic-related business. “So how was that independent thing you rented last week?” he asked. Raj had had to miss the movie after picking up a shift at work.
“Not completely awful,” Natalie said, spearing a fork-full of banana-syrup-thingee, “but you didn’t miss much.”