“Eden!” Xavier’s voice bounced off the walls and rang through the lamp just as the clock downstairs chimed 8 A.M. “Breakfast time!” Right on schedule.
“Coming!” she yelled as she clambered down the tight spiral staircase. Sliding down the railing was more fun, but she could only do it when Xavier wasn’t watching. She bounded into the dining room and sailed into her seat.
“Pancakes,” Goldie said, lowering a steaming stack of them. Maple syrup gleamed down the sides, and a pile of fresh red strawberries sat on top. Eden began tearing into them before the plate touched the table. In the seat across from her, Xavier looked on with amusement.
As she ate, Eden imagined how he’d react when she told him she hadn’t written the report he’d assigned. Finally he’d learn he couldn’t order her around like a tyrant. The thought made her smile.
At 8:30 A.M., lessons began.
The lesson room where she spent her days was on the second floor across from her bedroom. Unlike the towering study, it was wide and hollow—far too large for a class of one pupil. Large, hexagon-shaped tiles of burgundy and navy stretched across the floor in a sensible pattern, and a dull green chalkboard held court at the head of the room.
Xavier and Goldie said that a genie’s education must be classical and comprehensive. In order for the genie to understand the world she granted for, her education had to include history, geography, the sciences, language arts, literature, and art. These earthly subjects were Xavier’s domain. He was equally passionate about each, and when he taught, he was in his element. He knew everything. It was difficult to say where and when he’d learned everything one could possibly know, but there was no denying that it was all packed tightly inside his brain. His lectures were jam-packed with facts, and he presented them with theatrical gusto.
The lesson room lacked nothing that could aid a genie’s learning, and the lamp’s magic made it all interactive. There was a globe with three-dimensional mountains you could climb with your fingers, and a wide selection of maps could be pulled from a bar above the chalkboard with a snap of the fingers. Eden’s favorite map showed constellations that sparkled and twinkled in the dark night sky.
Mahogany bookshelves that rose as high as her chest (so that during a genie’s childhood, no book was out of reach) stretched along both sides of the lesson room. They were filled with carefully organized textbooks and novels. Not nearly as many books as there were in the lofty shelves of the study, but enough to provide an answer for every question she’d ever come up with.
On top of the shelves were hands-on learning tools. Most of them were also enchanted, to give them an extra edge. There were magnetic triangles that arranged themselves into various polyhedrons; a model demonstrating the living, pumping inner workings of a human heart; and a chemistry station along the back wall where chemical compounds materialized upon request, ready for experiments. Some things in the lesson room were fun to play with when Xavier wasn’t watching: the dinosaur miniatures could fight in pretend prehistoric battles, and the wooden artists’ mannequins with movable joints were just asking to do funny dances.
But ultimately, no tool or treasure could change the fact that the lesson room was another ward of her prison. Often she gazed at the poster of the periodic table or at the Van Gogh and Picasso prints on the walls, thinking, If only I had a window! One window! How a small patch of sky would brighten the hours!
Still, she liked learning about Earth. Every piece of information helped her understand the world she loved so much. Some was essential. It was a no-brainer that a genie would need to be fluent in every language; otherwise how could she grant the wishes of a randomly selected person anywhere on Earth? And biology fascinated her—she couldn’t get enough of Earth’s countless varieties of plants, animals, and insects. She could identify every breed of dog and over a thousand species of trees. Apparently, mortals couldn’t retain this much information, but genies were enchanted with the ability to utilize their brains’ full capacity.
While Xavier taught the Earth-based curriculum, Goldie handled the genie side of Eden’s education. Her courses, Granting for Genies and Lamp History, were taught at the end of each day while Xavier prepared dinner.
The Lamp History course guide, a one-of-a-kind book that Goldie had personally written and illustrated, covered each genie’s career and most noteworthy wishes granted. A granting had to have a significant impact on the world to be included in the course guide, so credits were regarded as marks of excellence for the genie.
And there were a lot of them. Most mortals would never know that some of humanity’s proudest accomplishments had been enabled by grantings. Countless athletes, musicians, political leaders, and cultural icons owed their skills and positions to the lamp. In fact, so many celebrated figures had rubbed it that it was hard for Eden to believe mortals achieved anything worthwhile on their own.
Years ago, she’d memorized the faces of the genies in the book’s portraits. She longed desperately for the day when her own portrait would join them. That would mean she’d reached retirement, and her final escape from the lamp.
Today they were studying Faye, a strawberry blond genie with piercing blue eyes. Her career had spanned from the late 1800s through 1937. Her wishers had included Orville Wright and Jackie Robinson.
While Goldie talked, Eden flipped back the pages of the course guide. Before Faye was Bambi, a genie with thick eyebrows and golden skin. Before her was Julianna, a feisty-looking brunette with a sharp jawline and bright green eyes. The genie before her resembled a full-grown fairy, with very straight silver-blond hair. Her name was Ivy, and she’d granted Beethoven his musical genius.
She turned to the very beginning. The first genie was Athena, a striking woman with caramel-colored skin and close-cropped hair. Her career had begun the lamp’s legacy in 2440 BC. Next was Zoe, who had Asian features and a sweet smile. Eden flipped forward through the centuries. She moved quickly past Bola, who’d granted for Julius Caesar. She had dark skin, bright white teeth, and a gaze cold enough to freeze water. For a moment Eden remained in the section on Tabitha, a voluptuous beauty whose grantings were instrumental to the start of the Renaissance. And right after her was Noel, who’d granted for Christopher Columbus. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and there was a no-nonsense expression on her face.
But finally, inevitably, Eden reached the place where she always seemed to land: Sylvana’s page.
Sylvana was not a recent alum; she’d granted during the Dark Ages. Still, Eden had always felt a mysterious connection to her—more than to any other genie in the book.
Her portrait showed a sly stunner with mischief in her eyes. Her hair was long and honey hued, and one eyebrow was arched in a challenge. Unlike the others, she looked like she had a sense of humor.
But the portrait wasn’t what intrigued Eden the most. Years ago, she’d noticed that although Sylvana’s career had spanned forty-seven years, her section didn’t include a single granting credit. Unlike every other genie in the course guide, only her name and the years of her residence were listed. It seemed she hadn’t granted a single noteworthy wish.
Whenever Eden asked about Sylvana, Goldie went strangely silent. “Some genies’ careers are more distinguished than others,” she’d say. “If you work hard and always try your best, you’ll have a list of credits longer than any in this book.” As if that were something she’d ever care about.
“So because of Orville Wright’s second wish, the world was introduced to flight,” Goldie said pleasantly. “One of many wishes brilliantly granted by Faye.”
Eden blinked. She’d completely zoned out.
“What’s Faye doing now?” she asked. “I’ve never seen a message from her.”
The corners of Goldie’s mouth turned down. “You know that’s not part of our lesson.”
Eden was always trying to find out more about genies’ post-lamp lives. Goldie tried to avoid discussing them during lessons, but every once in a while, Ede
n managed to maneuver her onto the subject.
When a genie retired, she could never enter the lamp again. However, if alumni chose, they could communicate with Xavier and Goldie through a magical mail system. A never-ending roll of enchanted parchment in the study allowed the lamp’s masters to record what mortals would call a video (though they’d used it long before that technology existed on Earth). After recording the message, they rolled up the parchment and inserted it into a small circular slot in the wall of drawers behind their desks. From there, the lamp’s magic whisked it away into the hands of the alum it was for.
When the alum received it, she could record a response and send it back. When it arrived, it dropped from the slot onto the study floor.
Every so often, they let Eden watch incoming messages—but never before Goldie and Xavier had watched them first.
“Has Nala sent a message back?” Eden asked.
Goldie pursed her lips.
“She did, didn’t she?” Eden gripped her desk excitedly. “Oh, please, Goldie, can I see it?”
“Oh…” Goldie wrinkled her nose as she tried to decide.
“Please? I won’t ask about any more, I promise.”
“Well, all right.” Goldie smiled. “It’s a short one, anyway.”
She left to retrieve the message. They kept them filed in the drawers downstairs.
While she was gone, Eden examined Sylvana’s portrait again. She’d never seen a message from Sylvana. What was she like? Funny? Sarcastic? Mischievous? And what was she doing now?
She couldn’t have been a very good genie. Otherwise, why wouldn’t the course guide mention a single wish she’d granted?
Maybe she’d been like Eden. Maybe she hadn’t been sure whether she was meant to be a genie at all.
“I told Xavier I was fetching his copy of the Wright brothers’ biography,” Goldie said with a giggle. Xavier was much stricter about keeping talk of alumni’s retired lives on Earth out of the classroom. Goldie sat next to Eden and unrolled the parchment.
“Buongiorno from Capri!” Nala said as the image on the paper came to life. Nala, an alum who’d granted from 1122 to 1188, was tall and slim, with high cheekbones, olive skin, and long black hair. She was lounging in a swimsuit on a small, deserted beach. Behind her was clear blue-green water, with rocky cliffs rising in the background. The sky was bright blue, with puffy white clouds floating by.
“I’m traveling through Italy at the moment! Isn’t it beautiful?” She rotated the parchment to show a few quiet cafés and snack bars behind her. “I’ve just come from Positano. The Amalfi coast is lovely! Good shopping, too.” She grinned. “Well, that’s all for now! It was great to hear from you guys! You’re both looking well! Ciao!” She blew a kiss, and the video ended.
“Wow!” Eden breathed. “Capri! That’s the first place I’m going when I finish my lifetime quota.”
An uncomfortable silence settled as Goldie rolled up the parchment.
“Or South America.” In Rio de Janeiro she’d done a granting for a wide-eyed girl named Jade. “I’ve got to go back to Brazil.”
“Someday, dear,” Goldie said lightly.
“Goldie, if you could visit Earth again, where would you go first?”
Goldie raised her eyebrows. “Honey, after all these years, you really think I want to go out there in that big ugly world? No, sir! I’m happy right here in paradise.”
Eden rolled her eyes. She couldn’t understand how you’d want to be inside a stuffy lamp after seeing places like where Nala was. From what Eden could tell, most alumni spent their centuries in endless pursuit of adventure and pleasure—and she fully intended to do the same.
It was strange, though. As far as she knew, all the alumni currently on Earth were immortal. The rare exceptions who’d chosen mortality had died long ago. That meant almost every woman in the course guide should be circulating on Earth. And yet, Eden had seen messages from less than half of them. The others, she couldn’t seem to learn a thing about.
“I was wondering. Do you ever hear from Kingsley?” They’d covered Kingsley’s career, a fascinating tenure during the reign of ancient Rome. But Eden had no idea what she’d done since 218 BC.
Goldie rolled the parchment back up. “Not for quite some time,” she said in a strange, high voice.
“Or Violet?” Violet had come right before Kingsley.
“Violet always kept to herself.”
“And what about Sylvana?”
Goldie was suddenly seized by a coughing fit.
“Let me guess. You don’t hear from her either?”
Goldie took a deep breath. “Some alumni communicate with us,” she said shakily. “Others don’t. The choice is theirs.”
Eden looked down at Sylvana’s portrait again. What would make a genie choose to cut off contact with the lamp?
“Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Orville Wright,” Goldie said purposefully, and the lesson resumed.
When the smells of whatever Xavier was cooking for dinner came wafting up the spiral staircase, focusing on lessons became nearly impossible. At last the lesson room clock conceded it was 5 P.M., and Eden was dismissed. She shot downstairs with jet pack power.
“Child, you move like a tornado!” Goldie exclaimed, chasing behind her as she tore into the kitchen. Destruction did tend to follow her closely, stepping on her heels if she wasn’t careful. Bowls fell off the counter, glasses tipped, and pots boiled over when she whizzed by, though she was sure she couldn’t be blamed for the pots.
Dinner was a seafood gumbo, one of Xavier’s favorite meals. He had a supernatural tolerance for spiciness, so sometimes he went overboard with the hot sauce.
“Delicious,” Goldie pronounced, nudging a tear from her eye with a knuckle. Using her hand to block Xavier’s view, she stuck her tongue out to air it. The dining room was even darker than the rest of the lamp, lit only by candles held aloft by a slender silver candelabrum, so you could get away with things like that. Eden gulped ice water to soothe her burning mouth.
Oblivious, Xavier bit into a piece of shrimp large enough to qualify as a fire hazard.
“I have a question,” Eden said. “If I can’t get hurt, then why is my mouth on fire right now?”
Goldie covered her mouth with a napkin to hide a smile.
“You know this,” Xavier said, visibly annoyed. “When Goldie and I became masters of the lamp, we decided that genies should feel pain like mortals. It’s important for you to be able to experience things the way they do.”
“Maybe you should have thought about that when you were cooking tonight,” Eden retorted.
He cleared his throat. “I’m looking forward to reading that report tomorrow morning,” he said. “I hope you’ve started it?”
“Nope!” Eden sang out.
“Well, I guess we know what you’re going to be doing after dinner.”
“I’m not sure if I’ll be able to write it. It’s strange, I can’t think of much I’d want to do differently.”
Xavier took a slow sip of water. “Here’s a good place to start. You should never have played with that wisher’s darts. You could have seriously injured him. Always avoid sharp objects.”
She sighed and crossed her arms.
“And I truly hope you don’t think treading in a room filled with fried potatoes is the same as swimming. You must avoid bodies of water.”
“That was a joke,” Eden muttered.
But Xavier was on a roll. Danger on Earth was one of his favorite topics of conversation.
“While we’re on the subject, I must reiterate: whatever you do, never get inside a moving vehicle. They’re absolute death traps for mortals.”
He was so melodramatic.
“And although this wasn’t the case with the mortal last night, you really have to be wary of wishers who try to befriend you. They’ll only try to take advantage of your powers.”
Sometimes Eden couldn’t believe how clueless he was. Each of the eleven mortals she’d grant
ed for had been dumb, but totally harmless. Xavier constantly talked about tragedy: tornadoes and earthquakes, oppression and shame, malaria and AIDS. He said the world was unpredictable and unsafe. But when was the last time he was there anyway? She probably knew more about it than he did!
No matter how he tried to make her fear it, she couldn’t stop wishing for the world.
“And finally, always guard your bracelet. As long as each of us is wearing ours, we’re safe. If one of them were ever to come off, the lamp’s enchantment would be broken, and life as we know it would end.” He took a deep breath. “You’d no longer be a genie, which means you’d never get to make a final wish. And as for Goldie and me…we’re only alive and immortal because of that enchantment. We’d lose our lives instantly.”
“I get it,” Eden said. “Don’t take off the bracelet. You’ve told me a million times.” The truth was, she didn’t even know how to take it off. As far as she could tell, it was locked on tight, with no clasp or opening whatsoever.
Xavier tugged on one side of his mustache. “Eden, this isn’t to be taken lightly. Remember, if things go wrong, you can always come home.” The lamp’s rules allowed a request for reentry in case of emergency. To perform it, she simply had to hold the lamp in front of her and ask to go back inside.
“As if I’d ever sacrifice a moment on Earth.”
Goldie gasped. “What a thing to say!”
“It’s true.” Eden drank her water greedily and replaced the empty glass with an unwelcome thunk. “I wish I was done being a genie already. All I want is to live out there.”
Silence settled on the table like a thick, low-lying cloud. A spoon clinked against a bowl.
“When you’ve finished your career, you can live any life you choose.” Xavier’s tongue cut the words into child-size portions. “But while you’re in this lamp, you’ll grant nine hundred and ninety-nine wishes like every other genie in history. Granting is a privilege. You are part of—”
“A legacy like no other. Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Eden sighed and pushed around the rice hardening into gummy clumps in her bowl. “Can I be excused?”
Eden's Wish Page 3