by E. C. Myers
Yeah. She was in a bad mood, too. He didn't feel like explaining why right then.
Bastard.
Ephraim was done playing this game—if he had come clean, then Nathan should too. He typed, Stop pretending. I saw you there.
Where?
At the party. I saw you in the window.
Nathan didn't respond for a full minute. I didn't even know about your stupid party. You really think I'm lame enough to follow you? How pitiful do you think I am? Never mind, I already know. THANKS.
Ephraim shook his head. I saw you.
IT WASN'T ME.
As much as Nathan liked to prove Ephraim wrong, he hated to be caught in his own lies. But why was he keeping up this pretense? Trying to save a little embarrassment? Was it really possible that Ephraim's guilty conscience had made him think he saw Nathan's face at the window? Or maybe the coin had changed the way the evening had gone after all.
There was another option, one he'd considered before but still wasn't prepared to accept: there were two Nathans.
Whatever the case, Ephraim hadn't had to tell Nathan about the party at all. Now it was too late. He'd screwed up big time, and he wasn't sure what would make Nathan forgive him—aside from using the coin to smooth things over like they'd never happened.
Ephraim stared at the coin on his desk. Maybe it could help him out of this mess, after all.
Look. Ephraim typed quickly before he could change his mind. I have something to show you. Something that can change our lives. He hesitated only a moment before hitting the enter key.
Nathan's anger was matched only by his insatiable curiosity. He let Ephraim wait a while before responding. What? he typed.
Meet me tomorrow morning. 11am at the park fountain.
I'll think about it. Nathan's name went gray as he signed off. The usual closing door noise that signaled a user leaving the chat sounded more like a steel door sliding shut, like the bars in a prison. Maybe the IM service had changed up their familiar audio files.
Ephraim tapped the magic coin against his keyboard nervously. He hoped he wasn't making a mistake bringing Nathan in on this.
Well, it was worth a shot to salvage their friendship, wasn't it? He had been miserable on his own at the party. He was used to sharing everything with Nathan; things were always more fun with his best friend around. They could really have a good time with this.
And if it didn't work, if Nathan didn't believe him, he could still wish the problem away. It was a win-win situation. Ephraim flipped the coin and grinned. When you had magic on your side, anything was possible.
Ephraim was late the next morning. The Number 8 bus had taken an entirely different route than the one he expected. He'd had to get off and sort out the new bus schedule. He finally figured out he needed to transfer to the Number 5, which had never gone anywhere near the park.
Ephraim had still beaten Nathan there, at least. The fountain and its surrounding plaza served as the centerpiece of Greystone Park. The small area was paved with cobblestones and ringed by tall hedges. The Memorial Fountain was situated in the middle, marking the exact center of the sprawling park grounds. No one had ever been able to tell him what it was memorializing, though.
A bronze figure of Atlas—the Greek Titan who carried the world on his shoulders—decorated the fountain, facing north. Instead of a globe, Atlas supported a large bronze basin from which water cascaded into the larger granite pool below. Quarters lined the bottom of it, glinting faintly in the clear water and morning sunlight.
Ephraim wondered how much he had contributed to the fountain over the years since he had started coming there as a boy. And now just one coin was granting all his wishes.
Cold water sprayed across Ephraim's face as he sat on the rim of the fountain, trailing one hand in the water. The homeless man from the night before wandered from around the fountain into view and stared hard at him. Ephraim tried his best to ignore him. He focused on the coins in the fountain and started adding them up in his head.
“Spare some change?” the man said. Ephraim glanced at him but looked away quickly. The man's face was lined with dirt, and even on this hot summer day he wore a knit cap over his lanky hair. He had on a soiled gray thermal shirt with the sleeves rolled up. There was a tear in the seam over his right shoulder. The man reeked. Dried vomit crusted the front of his shirt.
Ephraim pulled his backpack onto his lap and held onto it tight. The bottom of the bag had gotten wet, and he felt water seeping through his pants.
“Sorry, no,” Ephraim said. He stared at all the quarters on the bottom of the fountain. Why didn't the man just help himself?
“Hey! Get away from him!” Nathan came around the fountain from the other direction and glared at the bum.
“I'm just trying to get something to eat,” the man said.
Nathan leaned over and swept a cupped hand through the water, splashing the homeless man and getting a fair amount on Ephraim as well. “Never mind food. You need a shower!” Nathan shouted.
Ephraim had never seen Nathan act like this before—by default he was mild-mannered, shy unless you knew him, which came from being bullied himself his whole life. Ephraim wondered if Nathan was taking his anger at Ephraim out on the wrong person.
The homeless man scowled and shambled off.
“Nathan, was that really necessary?” Ephraim said. “He wasn't hurting anything. I was just going to ignore him.”
Nathan's camera flashed. “Heh. You wet yourself,” he said. Ephraim looked down; the crotch and inner thighs of his jeans were wet.
“It's just water from the fountain. Thanks to you.”
“Water. Sure it is.” Nathan checked the picture, nodded to himself, then sat down on the other side of Ephraim's backpack. “Hey,” Nathan said.
“Hey.”
Thus a hesitant truce was formed.
“So, this party. You were actually at Jena's house?” Nathan asked, with no trace of bitterness in his voice. “How was it?”
“It was fine,” Ephraim said.
“Did you get any action?”
“What?”
“Jena. Did you…you know.” Nathan shoved him. “Did you at least kiss her?”
“I could barely handle talking to her.”
“Chickenshit.”
“I couldn't even get her alone for more than a couple of minutes. Mary Shelley pulled her away.”
“There's a surprise. You know, if I'd been there I could have distracted the twins for you,” Nathan said. “It would have been a sacrifice, but I'd do anything for you.”
Ephraim sighed. “Because you're a better friend than I am.”
“Exactly.”
“You sure have mastered this whole guilt-tripping thing.”
“I learned it from my mother. She comes from a long line of Jewish women trained in the delicate art of manipulation.” Nathan shook his head. “So if you didn't get anywhere with her, what was the point in going?”
“I didn't say I didn't get anywhere. Jena did admit that she likes me,” Ephraim said. Even now, remembering the night before still made Ephraim happier than he'd ever felt.
“Duh. Everyone in school knows she has a crush on you.”
“I didn't know. She never showed any interest before.”
“You weren't paying attention, you were so focused on Mary. What made you change your mind about her?” Nathan asked.
“That's the difficult part to explain. I didn't change. Everything else did. But I'm the only one who remembers what things used to be like.”
“You're going to have to explain that.”
Now that Ephraim was faced with the prospect of sharing the magic coin, he wasn't sure he wanted to. Things were probably fine between them now.
But a promise was a promise.
Ephraim reached into his pocket and pulled out the coin. He was carrying it in a small Ziploc bag, to avoid making any more accidental wishes while holding it. He'd tested it—the coin needed to be in direct contact
with his skin for him to use it.
Ephraim slid the coin onto his palm. He held the quarter up between his thumb and forefinger and showed it to Nathan.
“It's because of this,” Ephraim said.
Nathan frowned. “A quarter? What, get your allowance early this week?”
“It's not just a quarter. It…um. It grants wishes,” Ephraim said.
Nathan glanced into the fountain. “Come on. Haven't you grown out of that yet?”
“I'm serious. This isn't like tossing a coin into the fountain. I've made a bunch of wishes and they all came true.” More or less.
Nathan crossed his arms. “Really. What did you wish for?”
Ephraim paused. He didn't want to admit what his mother had done to prompt the whole discovery. Nathan knew she had some problems, but Ephraim had kept the worst of it a secret. Now that she was normal, it would make his story even harder to accept if he tried to explain how she had been before.
“Like I said, I wished that Jena liked me.”
“Ephraim, Jena's liked you since forever.”
“That's what I'm saying. Before I made the wish, she wasn't interested in me. You just remember her liking me, because the wish made it happen.” He swallowed. “I've wished for other things too. Last night I missed the last bus, but I made a wish and then it came.”
“That's just a coincidence, or dumb luck. If you have a magic coin, why didn't you wish yourself straight home instead?” Nathan leaned over and plunged his arm into the water up to his short shirtsleeve. He grabbed a handful of coins and held them for a moment, before letting them cascade back into the water with a splash.
Ephraim stared at Nathan. That was a good point—that would have made a lot more sense, but he hadn't really been thinking clearly at the time.
“I'm still new at this, okay? Hey, I'm not joking.” Ephraim's voice rose. He hadn't thought it would be this hard to convince Nathan, but it had taken Ephraim a while to believe it when he was actually seeing what it could do.
“But everyone would notice stuff changing around them. How could I miss something like that?”
“It's like…when the coin grants my wish, it changes people too, so they remember things differently.”
Nathan scratched his forehead, considering.
“You mean the coin retcons the world to fit your wish? Like when lazy comic book writers make up a bunch of back story that never happened to justify their shoddy plotlines?” he asked.
“Um…you could put it that way.”
“So I just have to take your word for it, because if you make a wish, I won't remember it. That's awfully convenient for you.” Nathan snapped his fingers and held out his hand. “Let me see.”
Ephraim reluctantly handed the coin to him and watched closely while he examined it.
“Okay, this is weird,” Nathan said. He showed Ephraim the back of the coin, with the little frog and the palm tree. “Puerto Rico's not a state.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“But that doesn't make it magic.” Nathan held the coin up and squinted at it. “Where did it come from?”
“From a dead body at the hospital. They mistakenly identified another boy as me, and they gave his stuff to my mom. I…kept the quarter, but that was before I knew it was magic.”
Nathan's eyes widened.
Ephraim explained about the accident, and what he had found out—or hadn't found out—at the hospital. He wished he still had the other wallet and watch, not that they were conclusive evidence either. All he had from that night was the coin, a duplicate library card, and a few memories he'd rather he didn't have.
“That's a bit cracked,” Nathan said. “You know how this sounds?”
“I would think my mother had imagined all of it, but there's the coin. And it is magic.”
“How does it work?”
“You make a wish,” Ephraim said. “Then you flip the coin.”
“And how did you figure that out?”
“There was that note in my locker, remember? I showed it to you after the assembly. I thought you'd written it because it looked like your handwriting.”
Nathan shook his head. “I don't remember. And I bet you don't have that anymore either.” He smirked.
“No. That disappeared too.”
“Yeah.”
Ephraim wriggled a little. Water was soaking the seat of his jeans.
“Well, there's one way to prove this is magic.” Nathan stood up. “I'll make a wish.”
“Wait!” Ephraim grabbed Nathan's wrist.
Nathan scowled. “Stop acting. You and I both know it's not going to work. You're making this shit up, and it's a hell of a way to apologize.”
“It's not that.” Ephraim dropped his hand. “Every time I've changed something, people around me haven't even noticed. What if you use it and the same thing happens to me?”
Nathan shrugged. “Then I'll know about it. And I'll tell you what happened.”
“And what if I don't believe you? I just…” Ephraim didn't want to give up his control of the coin. He was afraid if he let Nathan make a wish on his own, he would never see the coin again. Worse—he might not even know about it. He instantly hated himself for his suspicions, but the feeling didn't go away.
“You have another suggestion?” Nathan's voice had cooled.
“Uh.” Seeing that homeless man had reminded Ephraim of what had happened last night, when his wish had apparently affected both of them. Was it because the man had held his hand when Ephraim touched the quarter? If the magic worked based on physical contact…
“Hold my hand,” Ephraim said.
“Excuse me?”
“I think if we're touching while you make the wish, we'll both remember it even if everything and everyone else changes.”
“You're just guessing that'll work.”
“Call it a working theory.”
Nathan sighed. He held out his hand. “Come on.”
“Why are we standing?” Ephraim got to his feet and reached behind to pull the wet jeans from his skin. The back of his boxer shorts were damp too.
“It just seems like we should. It's more dramatic.”
Ephraim grabbed Nathan's hand and looked at him, waiting.
“Don't get any funny ideas, either.” Nathan closed his eyes. “I wish Shelley Morales were in love with me.” After a moment he opened his eyes and looked at the coin.
“Is the coin getting hot?” Ephraim asked.
“No.” Nathan flipped it in the air and caught it. He opened his fist and looked at the coin. “Tails.”
Nothing happened. He tried it again and showed it to Ephraim. Heads this time.
“Very funny, Ephraim,” Nathan said. He flicked his hand toward the fountain.
“No!” Ephraim turned and tried to see where the coin landed. He couldn't lose it—
“Relax.” Nathan had the coin in his other hand. “Real magic is all about sleight of hand. Now you see it, now you don't.”
Nathan tossed the coin to Ephraim, and he cupped his hands to catch it.
“I was just messing with you,” Nathan said. “Like you were messing with me. You almost had me going.”
Ephraim gritted his teeth. “I'm not lying. It's magic. Real magic. Not a parlor trick.” He didn't want to entertain the thought that the coin's magic had simply run out, at the worst possible time. Didn't some spells break if you told someone else about them?
They stared at each other for a moment, neither one willing to budge.
“Maybe it only works for me because I found it,” Ephraim said. “That's the only explanation.”
Nathan's eyes rolled. “Not the only explanation.”
“Look, let's try this again. I'll make the wish this time. If it doesn't work, I'll admit I was wrong. I'll toss the coin in the fountain and you can make fun of me about this all you want.”
Nathan grinned. “You know I'll do that anyway.” But he took Ephraim's hand, squeezing harder than he had to.
&nbs
p; “I wish…” Ephraim said. “Are you sure you want this? It doesn't seem right.”
“Come on,” Nathan said. “You claim you got Jena interested in you the same way.”
Ephraim sighed. “I wish that Shelley Morales likes Nathan.”
“Love! I said love!” Nathan shouted. Ephraim flipped the coin and snatched it in mid-air.
The air shimmered. The hand holding Nathan's was suddenly empty.
Ephraim looked around in alarm and saw his friend a few feet away from him, now sitting on the fountain. Nathan glanced at him in surprise, then leaned over the fountain and gagged. Ephraim turned away. If he watched he would probably puke too. He didn't feel queasy at all anymore, though; he was definitely adjusting to the peculiar effects of the magic.
He opened his hand and glanced at the coin. Tails. If he was right about the sides affecting each wish, something bad was going to happen.
Nathan wiped his mouth and stared into the water. “This is kind of nasty.” He lifted his camera with a trembling hand and took a picture.
“Gross,” Ephraim said.
“Hey, where did all the coins go?” Nathan said.
“What?”
“The fountain's empty.”
Ephraim leaned over the side and looked in the water. It was murkier than before, the bottom and sides streaked with green and brown, but Nathan was right—all the coins were gone. There had been hundreds of dollars in change inside, and now there wasn't a single penny.
“Now you see it, now you don't,” Ephraim whispered.
Nathan slumped onto a park bench and pushed his long hair away from his forehead.
“So,” Nathan said.
Ephraim smiled. “It worked.”
“How do you know? Was it because I threw up or because the coins are gone?”
“Well, something happened. Didn't you feel it? How else do you explain the changes?”
Nathan scratched his chin, staring at the fountain. “What, um. What color's your backpack?”
“Red,” Ephraim said.
“That's what I thought. It's green now,” Nathan said.
Ephraim turned. His backpack still sat on the fountain where he'd left it, but Nathan was right—it was green.