Fair Coin

by E. C. Myers

  “Or is it because she's your best friend?”

  “You know? Maybe that's it.” Mary smiled.

  “So where's your sidekick?” Ephraim asked.

  “Shelley's around here somewhere. We aren't attached at the hip, you know.”

  “No, then you'd be Siamese.”

  Mary laughed. “Score. That's the first twin joke I haven't heard a thousand times.”

  “What do I win?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “What do you want?”

  Jena sidled up to Ephraim's elbow. She glanced from him to Mary a couple of times.

  “Are you two having a good time?” Jena asked, with a weird edge to her voice.

  Michael hovered behind her with a platter of cookies cradled in his arms. He placed it on the table and eyed Ephraim before heading back to the kitchen.

  “I am,” Mary said. “But I don't think Ephraim is. Yet.” Mary popped a potato chip into her mouth.

  “Shelley's looking for you, Mary,” Jena said pointedly.

  Mary smiled. “I'd better find out what my dear sister wants. So much for not being Siamese.” She raised her plastic cup toward Ephraim like a toast and wandered off.

  “Are you really not having a good time?” Jena asked. She gave him a frowny pout.

  “You know. I just got here,” Ephraim said. The music got louder, so he raised his voice. “Are your parents around?”

  “Are you kidding? My mother would be having a nervous breakdown if she were here, and my father would be sitting in the corner making sure no guys talked to me without his permission. They're visiting my aunt in New York this weekend. As long as they can't hear us in Flushing, we'll be fine.”

  He was surprised that Jena would be throwing a party without her parents’ permission; she always seemed to follow the rules at school. But that's why he was here, to get to know her better and find out what she was really like. She was obviously more than a bookworm.

  “Hey, do you want a drink?” he asked.

  “No thanks.” Jena cleared her throat. “I'm glad you came tonight. I wasn't sure you would.”

  “I said I would. Thanks for the invite.” He took a deep breath. “I was happy you asked me.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, yeah. I…thought you didn't like me,” Ephraim said.

  “What?” Jena's voice squeaked. “I thought you didn't like me!”

  “What gave you that idea?”

  “All the times I asked you to hang out with me! You always have some excuse.”

  Ephraim would have fallen all over himself to accept if Jena had ever asked him out, like he had tonight. It would be nuts to turn her down.

  “But you've been avoiding me all night,” he pointed out. “You couldn't get away from me fast enough when I showed up.”

  Jena looked down at her feet. Her toenails were a dark blue. “I was nervous.”

  “Oh. Really?”

  Ephraim and Jena stared at each other for a moment then laughed.

  “You'd think I'd seen enough episodes of Three's Company to know better than to jump to conclusions,” Jena said.

  “Three's Company?”

  “It's an old sitcom my dad likes. People were always misunderstanding each other on the show: overhearing conversations, drawing wild conclusions.” She took his arm and led him over to a cabinet by the television. The shelves were crammed full of DVDs and video-cassettes, many of them labeled by hand. “He's into vintage programs. He bootlegs a lot from the museum.” Mr. Kim was a curator at the Paley Center for Media in the city.

  “That's quite a collection.” Ephraim didn't even recognize the titles of most of those shows, but he knew some of them from reruns he'd seen on cable at Nathan's, like The Brady Bunch and Gilligan's Island.

  “Did you watch all these?”

  “It's all my dad would let me watch when I was a kid. It grows on you. Sometimes watching TV is the only way for me to spend time with him.”

  Ephraim picked up a tape labeled “Bugs and Daffy.”

  “Looney Tunes!” he said. “I used to love these cartoons.”

  “Me too. They're classics.”

  He put the tape back and ran his hand along the rest of the shelf. “I'm glad we cleared things up,” he said.

  She nodded. “It's important to like the same cartoons. More important than anything else, I'd say.”

  “I meant—”

  “Studies show that three percent of all divorces occur because the partners couldn't agree on what to watch.”

  “You're right. We'd have a serious problem if you liked Daffy Duck more than Bugs Bunny.”

  She put a hand to her mouth. “Oh no! I do prefer Daffy. We're doomed.”

  Ephraim was so happy he even let Jena drag him into the center of the living room, the makeshift dance floor, even though he didn't know how to dance. He just enjoyed being close to her finally—and due to the number of people crammed into the center of the living room, they were really close. Close enough that Ephraim smelled the soap she'd used as they danced. Close enough that he hoped she couldn't tell he didn't know what to do with his feet as he swayed back and forth in front of her.

  He caught Mary and Shelley staring at them from the couch, which had been pushed aside to face the center of the living room. They had worn the same outfit but with reversed colors: Shelley wore a light-blue tank top and a yellow skirt, which at least made them easier to tell apart. He smiled over at Mary, but she didn't react.

  “Um, is Mary all right?” Ephraim asked.

  Jena glanced over at the twins. “I'd better check.”

  As Jena pushed through the throng of dancers, Mary got up and walked off. Jena followed her into the kitchen.

  Alone on the dance floor, Ephraim edged back over to the snack table and grabbed himself a drink and a handful of stale popcorn. He went to sit on the couch next to Shelley.

  “Shelley, right?” he asked.

  “You want a gold star for getting my name?” Shelley said.

  If he'd ever thought she and her sister were interchangeable, he wouldn't make that mistake again. Unsure of how to respond, he gulped his punch and quickly realized it had been spiked with alcohol. He just managed not to cough, but he stared into the bottom of the plastic cup, his eyes tearing.

  He didn't know much about the twins, just that the two of them basically controlled the media at Summerside High: Mary was going to be a co-editor on the school newspaper next year, and Shelley pretty much ran yearbook. Jena spent time on the staff of both publications, and the group was as inseparable as Ephraim and Nathan were. More so, since Ephraim was at this party on his own. Ephraim fell silent, thinking about how Nathan would feel if he could see Ephraim talking to Shelley right now.

  “She likes you,” Shelley said.

  Ephraim swallowed an ice cube and coughed. He felt the cold lump slide down his throat.

  “Jena?” he asked.

  “My sister, jerk. You were just flirting with her over there.”

  “I was? I thought she was just trying to be nice.”

  Mary liked him? Really? Come to think of it, Nathan had said Ephraim liked Mary—after his latest wish. He supposed the feeling could be mutual.

  “I don't know what either of them see in you, but if you hurt my sister or Jena you'll regret it,” Shelley said.

  Ephraim laughed weakly. “Let me guess, you know a guy who'll teach me a lesson?”

  Shelley scowled.

  A shadow fell over Ephraim. He looked up and saw Jason Ferrer looming over him, blocking the light from a table lamp the way a mountain blocks the sunset. Jason played quarterback for the school team, the Summerside Badgers.

  “Let's dance, Shell.” He extended his thick hand toward her.

  Shelley glared at Ephraim once more before turning a sweet smile to Jason. “I'd love to.” She bounced up from the couch. She looked back and said, “And you should tell your little friend to stop stalking me. He's creepy.” Then she and Jason moved off, and Ephraim
was once again alone.

  Aside from the dance with Jena, he'd spent most of this party by himself. He never had to worry about being bored or lonely or out of place with Nathan around. He'd underestimated how much having a best friend like Nathan made life at Summerside High bearable, even enjoyable. He'd made a big mistake not telling him about the party.

  Ephraim glanced up and imagined he saw Nathan's face at the bay window in the living room. He decided his guilt must be getting to him.

  No, it was really him. Ephraim pushed his way through the dancing couples to the big window, but by the time he got there, Nathan had vanished. Had it just been his unconscious mind playing tricks on him? Or maybe the spiked punch, which was already giving him a pleasant buzz.

  This was the second time he'd thought he'd seen Nathan someplace he didn't expect to. Was he following him? Shelley said he'd been stalking her, but then what had he been doing at the hospital the night Ephraim had brought his mother in? Why would he show up without saying anything?

  Ephraim could barely see outside the window now, since the interior light was reflecting the living room in the glass.

  If Nathan had found out about the party and decided to crash it, Ephraim had better apologize while he could—if it wasn't already too late. He left the house and found the window he'd seen Nathan at. The grass beneath it was trampled, but that could have happened anytime. He spun around slowly, but the only people outside were a couple of girls holding hands and sharing a cigarette under a tree. He made a circuit of the house.

  “Ephraim!” Jena called from a second-floor balcony.

  “Jena?” He looked up the side of the house at her.

  “You aren't leaving already?” she said.

  Ephraim checked his watch. It was already ten, and it was a long bus ride home.

  “I probably should head out,” he said.

  “We didn't finish our dance,” Jena said. She leaned over the railing, and he was suddenly reminded of the drama club's production of Romeo and Juliet, freshman year. She'd been Juliet, of course. He'd played one of the soldiers who didn't even have a speaking part—a good thing, since he couldn't have remembered his lines in her presence.

  “I'll call you?” Ephraim said.

  “I guess that'll have to do.”

  She turned to go back inside. He stared at her legs as she walked into the house. Just before she closed the door she waved and smiled shyly.

  Ephraim reached the bus stop and discovered he'd missed the last bus by twenty minutes. He didn't know what to do—should he go back to Jena's house and beg someone for a ride? He could call his mother from a pay phone, or if he found Nathan maybe he could beg for a lift home while he apologized for being a crappy friend.

  “Sucks, doesn't it?” A voice spoke from the bench behind him.

  Ephraim turned and saw a shabbily dressed man sitting there. He couldn't make him out well in the dark, but the man had long greasy brown hair and a T-shirt that looked like it had once been white but was now gray and stained.

  “Did the last bus go by?” Ephraim asked.

  “Yup. Not your night, huh?”

  Ephraim kicked the bus stop pole and considered his options. All he had in his pocket were two dollar bills for the bus.

  Make that $2.25—and that extra quarter might make all the difference.

  Ephraim pulled out the magic coin and considered his options. This was a frivolous wish, but it would be a good test of whether he even had any wishes left. And this was an emergency, after all. He had nothing to lose.

  “I wish I hadn't missed the bus,” he whispered, self-conscious about the homeless man watching him. He tossed the coin but lost sight of it in the dark. All he saw was a quick flash in the light from a streetlamp before he heard it hit the sidewalk. “Crap,” he said.

  He searched the ground frantically, but it wasn't where he thought it had fallen. If the coin had rolled even a short distance away, it would be difficult to spot at night. Ephraim was about to give up when the guy from the bench leaned over and picked something up—the quarter.

  Ephraim eyed the coin, wondering if it was heating up and what the man might think of that. “Thanks, mister.” He approached the man, wrinkling his nose at the sour stench radiating from his grubby clothes.

  The man squinted at the quarter and rubbed his grimy fingers over it. “Hmmm.” He raised it up to the light and turned it this way and that, pinched between thumb and index finger. When he saw the reverse side with the picture of Puerto Rico, he went “Hmmm” again.

  Ephraim reached for the quarter. The man held it over Ephraim's open hand, poised to drop it. They locked eyes over the coin.

  “Here you go, kid.” The man finally lowered the quarter into his palm and pressed it there with a finger.

  Vertigo swept over Ephraim. His stomach felt like it was dropping away from him, and then he was fine.

  The man let his hand go and staggered away. He let out a loud belch. He seemed dizzy and started knocking his knuckles against the side of his head.

  Ephraim stepped back quickly in case the man threw up. He checked the coin in his hand. It was tails up.

  Suddenly they were illuminated by twin beams of light coming up the street. The man straightened. “Looks like another bus is here,” he said.

  Ephraim grinned with relief. There might not be a limit to the number of wishes he could make with the coin.

  The bus stopped, and Ephraim climbed on. He fed his two dollars into the bill slot and took a seat at the front. The homeless man stepped into the bus too, and the doors closed with a whoosh.

  “I don't have any money,” the man said.

  The bus driver sighed. “You can't keep doing this, old fella. This is a business, not a charity.”

  The homeless man turned to Ephraim. “I have to get home,” he said. “You brought me here.” His eyes were glassy and unfocused.

  Ephraim pocketed his quarter. “Sorry,” he said. “I don't have enough change.”

  “Change!” The homeless man chuckled to himself.

  “You know this guy?” the driver asked.

  “I don't know what he's talking about,” Ephraim said. “I only met him two minutes ago.”

  “It's a real shame when someone gets like this. Well, what the hell,” the driver said. “I'll take you anyway. I'm not losing any money over it and this is my last run of the night.”

  “This is the last bus?” Ephraim said.

  “Yup. I'm thirty minutes late—trouble with the doors earlier. But I always finish my route.” He shifted the bus into gear.

  “Looks like it's your lucky night after all,” the homeless man said as he shuffled past Ephraim's seat.

  Ephraim stared after him. The man remembered their conversation from before Ephraim's wish for the bus. Why? Up until now, no one but Ephraim had been aware of the changes. So what was different this time from all the previous times he'd used the coin? It was either the man or something Ephraim had done.

  He heard the unmistakable sound of the man vomiting in the back of the bus, and a moment later the acidic odor wafted toward him.

  “Swell.” The driver sighed. “That's what I get for being nice.”

  Ephraim turned and looked out the window as the bus moved down dark, empty streets. He kept his hand curled protectively around the coin in his pocket the whole time.

  Ephraim's mom wasn't home when he got back from the party. Instead of the lecture he'd expected for missing curfew, he found a note on the fridge telling him there were leftovers inside. It seemed she was back on the evening shift at the supermarket.

  It bothered him that his wishes were causing unpredictable changes that he hadn't asked for. At least this time it had worked in his favor; because she wasn't home, his mother would never even know he'd been out so late, and he'd avoid spending the first two weeks of summer grounded. With the coin, it would be easy enough to put things right for his mother again. Or better yet, he could wish her into a job she might actually enjoy,
one that paid more than her meager wages.

  Ephraim hadn't eaten much at the party despite all his time near the snack table, so he nuked a plate of leftover meat loaf and mashed potatoes—a meal he didn't remember his mother cooking in the first place—and brought it to his room. As soon as he logged into his computer, an instant message from Nathan flashed on his screen with an accompanying tone that sounded wrong, distorted from usual. The last thing he needed was a busted sound card in his computer.

  HEY. Where have you been? Nathan typed.

  The cursor blinked at Ephraim accusingly. So that had been Nathan at the window.

  Ephraim leaned back as far as his desk chair would go and passed the magic coin from hand to hand. Deep down he'd hoped that it had made it easier on him, changing things with his last wish so Nathan wouldn't know anything about the party, the same way it had affected his mother. His only choice was to come clean and apologize; if he lied about the party now, he would only seem like even more of a jerk.

  Come to think of it, Ephraim could just wish for Nathan to forget he'd ditched him for the party, couldn't he? Nathan wouldn't even notice. It would spare him hurt feelings, and Ephraim wouldn't have to deal with the problem more directly.

  Ephraim clenched the coin in his fist. He slapped the quarter down next to the keyboard.

  Sorry, Ephraim typed. I should have told you about the party earlier.

  Nathan loved it whenever Ephraim admitted a mistake, but his gloating response took a long time to appear.

  What party? Nathan finally typed.

  So he was going to make Ephraim work for this.

  Jena invited me at the last minute. I should have mentioned it.

  You went to a party without me? At Jena's house?

  I'm sorry, Ephraim typed again. It was a selfish thing to do. He would have to say all the things Nathan wanted to hear.

  I thought we were best friends.

  “Ouch,” Ephraim said. Of course we are. I just didn't want to push my luck when I got the invite. I wanted to ask if you could come…I will next time, I promise.

  Was Shelley there? Nathan typed.

  Ephraim didn't know why Nathan was playing dumb about the whole thing; he was fast losing his moral high ground. Nathan had seen Ephraim staring at him in the window just before he ran off, so he had to know he'd been spotted.