“Did you pull that alarm?” Eden demanded.
“Of course I did. How else was I going to get you alone?”
Bola steered Eden into the gym. Their shoes squeaked as they crossed the shiny wooden floor with its mysterious patterns of lines and circles.
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see soon enough.”
On the opposite end was an open doorway. A sign above it read, GIRLS.
“Through here,” Bola said, and shoved her in.
A rank, faintly chemical smell hung in the air. As Bola led her across the faded tile, past dingy sea-green lockers and graffiti-covered toilet stalls, the smell grew stronger.
Finally they reached a door: another exit. They passed through it and stepped into a new room.
The sickly smell from the locker room was so thick, you could almost see it. There were no windows, and the air felt moist and heavy. It was like being in a cave.
Two long rectangular lights buzzed from the ceiling, shining dimly on a concrete floor that dipped down into a submerged pool of water.
Bola had led her to an indoor swimming pool. Eden hadn’t even known there was one at the school.
As she took in her surroundings, Eden quickly realized things could—and would—get worse. Bola hadn’t brought her there so they could be alone. Ten other women were waiting.
That is—nine women, and one girl. Among the Loyals was Gigi.
They faced her as she walked in. A few stood in front of the pool, while the others lined its perimeter. Each of them was uncommonly lovely, but no two looked the same.
Eden didn’t need to see their bracelets to know she’d entered a room full of Loyal alumni.
Noel and Nala darted forward and grasped Eden’s arms. She resisted, but they were stronger. They pulled her toward the pool. Suddenly someone pushed her from behind, and before she could think, she was falling forward. She closed her eyes and braced herself for the impact.
The front of her body slapped the water’s surface like a pancake landing its flip.
“Belly flop!” someone hooted as she rose up, gasping for air. “That must’ve hurt!” A chorus of female giggles bounced off the walls.
Her heart was a tambourine, twisting percussively this way and that. She tried to collect her breath, but the humid air was like a cloth shoved deep in her throat. She moved her arms and legs madly, panicking, desperate to stay afloat.
After all, she still didn’t know how to swim.
Her big toe scraped against something. Solid ground. She found it with the other foot. If she stood on the tips of her toes, her chin grazed the water’s surface.
She reminded herself that she wasn’t going to drown. That was one thing she had going for her.
The women had distributed themselves around the pool. With the exception of Gigi, she knew every face from the course guide. Until now, they’d been mythical heroines to her.
Taking in the sight of them, she slipped on a slick tile and swallowed a mouthful of dull aqua blue. The taste of chlorine was sharp in her mouth. With one foot in front of the other, she climbed the slippery inclined floor.
“Thank you for joining us,” came Bola’s voice. She’d climbed up to the high diving board, so she towered above them.
“You didn’t give me a choice,” Eden said. Her voice was small in the stifling room. A few genies laughed, and Bola shot them a glance that glittered with reproach. Even among her fellow alumni, her authority was unchallenged.
“I would argue that you didn’t give us a choice,” Bola countered. “First you disobeyed your masters, and then you defied me.”
“And I’m going to keep on doing it,” Eden said. Her body was pulsing with anger. “I’m staying here on Earth. I hope you know that throwing me in a pool isn’t going to change that.”
“This is bigger than you.” Bola stepped forward on the diving board. “You were born to the lamp for a reason. You’re not meant for this world.”
“Maybe I am!” Eden shot back. She looked around the room. “None of you knows a thing about me. Since I’ve been here, all you’ve done is chase me and bully me.” She pointed at Gigi. “Especially you! Why are you here, anyway? Did they convince you to help them?”
“They didn’t have to.” Gigi held up her wrist. On it was a gold cuff that her long-sleeved dress had concealed the day before. “I told you to go back where you came from.”
“You’re an alum? But you’re my age!”
“I look like I am. I wished to be twelve years old forever. You probably know me as Genevieve.”
Genevieve was resident genie from AD 657 to 740. Eden had never seen a message from her, but she could picture her portrait in the course guide: a pretty woman with thick hair and dimples. What Gigi would look like if she were an adult.
Eden shook her head. “You all have some serious issues.”
Noel spoke up. “We’re under strict orders from the lamp’s masters—”
“You think I care about their orders?”
“We don’t think you want them to die,” Noel said gravely. “And if Electra receives the lamp, they will.”
“Electra’s not going to get the lamp!” Eden wrapped her arms around herself. She’d made her way to water that reached only midway up her rib cage, but she was soaked from head to toe. Her green cotton tank top clung wetly to her skin. “I’m not going to take off my bracelet! I just want to live on Earth.”
“And you think Sylvana’s going to allow that?” Bola demanded.
“You don’t know what she’s capable of,” said Tabitha, more gently than the others. “She’ll do anything to get the lamp’s power. Things you can’t even imagine.”
“I held her off before,” Eden said. “I’ll do it again.”
“You don’t understand,” Noel cut in.
“So we’re going to have to make you,” said Bola. “Ivy?”
Ivy was standing right next to the diving board. She nodded at Bola and snapped, and the dim lights extinguished completely. The pool was dark as midnight.
A shiver ran up Eden’s spine. She’d forgotten that alumni could wish for magical powers as part of their last wishes. There was no telling what might come next.
Suddenly, she was outside—but not in San Diego, and not during the day. Above her was the endless night sky, adorned with no fewer stars than in the lesson room’s maps of constellations. For so many of them to be visible, there must be no light pollution for hundreds of miles.
Beneath her, long grass waved in the breeze. The air was crisp, with a cool, pleasant bite. Nearby, several large mounds rose up from the land like grassy pyramids, with structures that looked like homes built on their flat tops.
As her eyes adjusted, Eden saw a group of people standing between two of the mounds. Their skin and hair were dark, and pieces of cloth hung from bands tied around their waists. Red makeup was painted on some of their faces in artful designs. There were men, women, and children—maybe thirty in all.
Eden crept toward them. They were gathered around a woman whose back was turned. She wore a long purple gown, and her hair was the color of honey.
As Eden rounded the side and stood behind the group of people, she saw the woman’s face. It was Sylvana.
Out of the darkness came Bola’s voice. “You’re in North America, in part of what we now call Illinois. The year is 1320.” Eden looked for Bola, but she didn’t see her. And though her voice seemed to boom from the sky, it seemed that no one else could hear her—or, for that matter, see or hear Eden.
Based on the time and location, the mortals with Sylvana must be Mississippians. They were a Native American culture that Xavier had taught about in history lessons. The mounds currently surrounding Eden were the building blocks of their communities.
“This was one of Sylvana’s many grantings that you didn’t read about in the course guide,” Bola continued. “In a moment, you’ll understand why.”
Eden studied Sylvana’s face. She appeared
younger than she’d chosen to look for immortality, but her eyes were unmistakable.
One man was standing in front of the others, speaking to her. He held the lamp reverently in his hands, which Eden assumed meant he must be the wisher. She couldn’t hear their words, but she saw Sylvana lift her hand and snap her fingers. When she did, she vanished—which meant the man must have just made his third wish.
Suddenly a gust of wind cut through the air, so strong Eden almost lost her balance. Mothers tried to shield their children, and men and women clutched one another.
There was another blast of wind, even stronger this time. The long grass flapped madly. Eden had to drop to her knees; she could no longer stand on two legs.
High above, the swirling gales were taking on a recognizable shape. Eden stared in utter disbelief as she saw a funnel cloud form with alarmingly unnatural speed. Careening quickly toward them was a natural disaster that had long fascinated her in Xavier’s science lessons: a tornado.
Its might was absolutely incomprehensible. As it drew closer, Eden clutched the wildly waving grass beneath her, but the blades kept breaking off. A chorus of terrified screams rose up against the roar of the wind as the funnel cloud advanced. Several people tried to outrun it. One of them, a woman, screamed hysterically as it lifted her off the ground. Eden squeezed her eyes shut.
“Make it stop!” She could barely keep her grip on solid ground. The tornado was lifting her own legs, pulling them toward it. “Bola, please! Make it stop!”
And suddenly, it did.
She was on her hands and knees, panting. But she was no longer on the grass where the tornado had hit—and she wasn’t back in the pool, either. Instead, she’d arrived somewhere entirely different.
“What you just saw was a typical wish granted by Sylvana,” came Bola’s voice. Her sharp British accent made the words cut like blades. “The man you saw wished for a change in weather. His village needed relief from the drought that was killing their crops. Rather than helping them, Sylvana granted his wish with an act of destruction.”
Eden was speechless. Sure, she’d twisted a few wishes for fun—but going this far off course was inconceivable to her.
“Now, pay attention, Eden. The year is now 1348. You’re in Florence, Italy.”
It was daytime here. Beneath Eden was a dirt path. She heard a horse’s hooves clop by behind her. Brushing her hands off, she stood up.
The street was deserted. There was an eerie stillness in the air.
And yet, not far away, strange sounds rose up like ghosts. They sounded like the voices of mortals, but Eden had never heard mortals make such horrible, desolate sounds before. Ignoring the pounding in her chest, she followed them.
Suddenly, a man staggered across her path.
“Aiuto!!” the man rasped as he darted by with jerky movements. “Aiuto!!”
“Help me,” in Italian.
Eden continued forward in the direction the man had come from. Around the corner, she came upon a woman sitting on the ground, weeping softly. In her arms was a bundle of cloth that she cradled like a child.
“Il mio bambino!” she cried. “Il mio bambino sta morendo!” My baby is dying.
The moans were coming from others who lay prone on the ground, up and down the street. Eden’s eyes flitted from one to another in horror. It was as if they were all waiting for their turn to die.
Her breathing had grown jagged and painful. She’d studied European history well enough to realize what she’d stepped into.
But could it really be the work of Sylvana? It seemed too terrible to be true.
“Several years before this, Sylvana granted a wish for a man in Asia. He wanted to make his mark on the world,” boomed Bola’s voice. “She made that man the first carrier of a disease that spread like wildfire and devastated Europe.”
“The Black Death,” Eden said. Her eyes were fixed on the woman holding the baby.
“More than seventy-five million people were killed,” Bola said. “All because of a single wayward wish.”
A rat ran right in front of Eden’s toes, and she screamed and jumped back. It was like living in a nightmare. Suddenly, she couldn’t take any more.
“Get me out of here!” she screamed into the sky. “I’ve seen enough!”
A set of hands gripped her arms.
“Enough!” she wailed, trying to shake them off.
But then she realized water was splashing as she writhed around. The strong hands locked around her lifted her easily out of the pool.
The dim lights were back on. The hands that had lifted Eden out belonged to two stern, unfamiliar men. They wore spotless black suits, and earpieces attached to curly plastic cords.
“Eden,” one of them said, “you’re coming with us.”
Eden was puzzled. The alumni were still standing in their places around the pool. They looked at each other uncertainly. It seemed this was not a part of their plan.
“Excuse me,” Bola called from the diving board. “This is school property. You’re not allowed here.”
“Secret Service, ma’am,” said one of them, flashing a badge in her direction. He and the other man still had Eden by the arms. “This way,” he said to her.
“Stop,” Bola commanded, scrambling frantically down the diving board’s ladder. “This is unacceptable. You can’t take her.”
“Ma’am,” the man said. He looked unimpressed. “We work for the president. We can do anything she wants.”
They exited through a different door that led directly outside. Seeing the sun in the spotless blue sky was like reuniting with an old friend. Even though Eden had no clue where she was going, anywhere was better than in that pool.
A caravan of black vehicles that looked like elongated SUVs was lined up waiting. The men escorted her to one in the middle.
To her left, hundreds of students stood slack-jawed in shock. Eden supposed this was where they’d been directed for the fire drill.
“Sweden?” Mr. Willis said, approaching.
“Stay back, sir,” said one of the Secret Service men. The other one opened the door and gestured for her to get in.
“But—I’m soaking wet,” she protested. She couldn’t think of what else to say.
“Just get in,” he said gruffly. And really, she didn’t have any other options.
She climbed into the car’s darkened interior and sat on a long seat that stretched the length of the car. As the man closed the door behind her, she saw that sitting across from her was a slender older woman with white hair and intelligent eyes.
She recognized the woman. But this time, not from the course guide.
“Please don’t be afraid,” the woman said. “I’m here to help you.”
Eden blinked. “President Porter?”
The woman’s wrinkles multiplied when she smiled.
“My dear,” she said, “you can call me Faye.”
“You were a genie,” Eden said in wonder. The knowledge was nearly impossible to absorb. She could feel that the car had started moving, though little was visible through the dark tinted windows. She gazed at the president’s—Faye’s—genie bracelet on her aged, spot-speckled wrist.
“One of the few who wished for mortality,” Faye said. “And of those, the only one still alive.”
“And you’re the president of the United States!” Eden squeezed some water from her braid. “Wait a second. You coming to San Diego is a big deal—I saw it on the news and everything. You didn’t come—”
“For you? Of course I did.” Faye watched amusedly as this sank in.
“But don’t you have more important things to do?”
“More important than this? I don’t think so.”
Eden shook her head in amazement. “I can’t believe the president is an alum! Why wouldn’t Xavier and Goldie tell me? You’d think they’d brag about you.”
Now that she was close to Faye, Eden could detect traces of the young strawberry blonde from the course guide: the shape of
her lips, the arch of her light eyebrows. And her eyes were just the same: piercing, but kind.
“I don’t communicate with Xavier and Goldie,” Faye said. “When I retired, I told them I wanted to leave that world behind me, and they’ve honored that. I’m sure they’ve kept up with my career, but they’ve never tried to contact me.”
“I’m sure they have too. Xavier was at that UN summit you spoke at.” Faye’s eyebrows lifted subtly, and a pleased look crossed her face.
“But I thought all the genies who’d wished for mortality were long gone.” Eden thought back to her last day of lessons, when she’d studied Faye’s section in the course guide. “The last genie in the lamp before me was Cadence, and you were just before her. Right? You were the resident genie up until the start of the Second World War.”
“That’s right.”
“Then how are you still alive? You would have been fifty when you left the lamp. You’re not over a hundred mortal years old, are you?”
“You forget,” Faye said gently, “there are no limits for a genie’s last wish. I didn’t wish for mortal life continuing from the point of my retirement. I wished to be born into the world as a mortal, and age from that point forward.”
Eden’s heart surged with a sudden, desperate need for empathy. “Did you hate being a genie too?”
Something small and dear collapsed behind Faye’s eyes, but it wasn’t what Eden had hoped for.
“No,” she said. “I loved my years in the lamp. When I was granting, I got to light up mortals’ lives. That made me want to change the world for the better.” She sighed. “Though I must say, it’s been more difficult than I imagined.”
Eden remembered the speech Bola had played on the TV. President Porter—Faye—had said you couldn’t see the world’s beauty until you brightened it. Who would have guessed it had all started with granting wishes!
In the pool, Eden had seen in vivid detail how a genie’s power could be used to harm humanity. But Faye was on the opposite end of the spectrum: she was a perfect example of how much good could come of granting.
Eden felt like she’d been studying a painting for hours and just learned it was upside down. Maybe she’d been looking at her job all wrong.
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