We walk in step with one another, doing a lateral dance with the incoming tide to keep our feet out of the water.
“Not that I’m complaining,” Nate says. “I’ve been wishing we could be alone together since we got here.”
Nate is unaware of how careful he needs to be using the “w” word. Still, if he’s going to be wishing for anything, I don’t mind it having something to do with me. Here we are, on a date, with me doing research without even having to try.
Nate takes my hand, and it’s like I’ve touched a live wire. An electric charge shoots through my body. Is it the same for Nate?
Wow. Oh, wow.
Apparently it is. But I’ve got to get a handle on this mind-reading stuff. It’s not right to be privy to everyone’s innermost—
She has to know how much I like her. How much I’m dying to kiss her.
Okay, maybe I could stick around for one or two more thoughts. Really, I mean, this is something I should be practicing since it’ll help me grant wishes. Being able to read minds like this is rare. It’s a gift, right?
But does she want to kiss me?
How could he possibly be asking that? He has to know I like him as much as he likes me. Probably more. How could he not know? Am I still giving off that stupid vibe?
Because I see the way Henry looks at her. And she him. Maybe I should back off.
Is that the vibe I’ve been giving off? I didn’t mean to. Or did I? No, Henry’s my best friend. I need Henry to be my best friend. And I need a best friend, now more than ever.
Nate’s hand begins to slip from mine. I hang on to it, interlacing my fingers with his. I’m not sure what Nate is right now, but I need him too.
I don’t know how to verbalize all this. Part of me thinks it’d be easier if Nate could read my mind. Not necessarily less complicated, but easier.
I’ve spent the evening convincing myself that I am in control. That I’m smart enough to grant Nate a wish without hurting him or exposing myself or bringing the wrath of the Afrit down on everyone I care about. If that’s true then this, being my teenage self with a boy, should be a snap.
Moonlight shining down on us, whoosh of the ocean serenading us, Nate smiling at me, it is easy, but not necessarily uncomplicated.
33
“I’m a little worried about you,” Nate says, pulling a flashlight out of his backpack.
He guides us through the marshy area at the far end of the beach, scanning the ground ahead of us until the beam of light settles on a sandy patch partially concealed by the dunes.
“That book you told me to read? About the guy who goes to live in Alaska and eats the poisoned apple?”
“Into the Wild?” I say. “It was seeds, I think.”
Nate grins. “I was trying to be cute.”
Oh, right. Flirting, which I thought I was getting better at.
“You don’t have to try,” I say.
Okay, not bad.
Nate winks at me as he slips off his backpack. He takes out a red blanket and shakes it to unfurl it. After spreading it out on the sand, he kneels down and adds to the ambience with a few battery-operated votive candles, two canned cappuccinos, and a bag of almonds—sugar-coated, not salted. Presumptuous to some, but the realization that Nate was thinking about me enough to plan all this has me approaching giddiness. I don’t approach giddiness lightly. I may have never before been in sniffing distance of giddiness. I may have never before used the word “giddiness.”
My miniskirt hikes even farther up my thigh as I sit next to him. Any more and Yasmin’s carefully crafted thong will threaten to make an appearance. I tug the hem of my skirt with one hand and accept the cappuccino Nate offers me with the other.
Our cans don’t make much of a clinking sound as we tap them, but that’s okay. Nothing could detract from this moment. It feels like a real date.
“It’s just that the dude in the book…” Nate shakes his head. “He up and left his entire family. Didn’t keep in touch. I couldn’t do that. The way he acted … I just couldn’t relate to it, to him. He’s out there alone doing his thing while his parents and sister are worried sick.”
“I never thought of it that way before.” I hadn’t, but I do now.
Nate stretches out, resting his head in one hand. “Guess it was over my head, maybe. The whole soul-searching thing. It’s just, personally, I don’t need to go anywhere to know what I want.”
As Nate takes my hand, it’s clear that, unlike me, he has mastered the art of flirtation.
I lie on my side, facing him. I have to, right? I mean, Nate’s about to tell me what he wants—code word for what he desires, what he wishes. It’s my job to encourage him. If only my heart would slow down and stop echoing in my ears, I might be able to concentrate on what he’s saying. If only my mind wasn’t so jumbled with my own thoughts, I might be able to focus on reading his.
But I don’t need to do either. What Nate wants is written all over his suntanned face. It boils down to three little words: “me,” “kiss,” “you.”
The sand shifts underneath us as he presses the length of his body against mine. His hand rests on the rivets of my denim skirt, gently cupping my hip as I fall flat against the blanket. Careful not to rest down his full weight, he uses his swimmer’s arms to suspend himself above me. He positions his head in line with mine and lowers himself toward me. I hesitate before dismissing my fleeting thought to start the wish-granting ritual right now. Granting his wish to kiss me seems like cheating. Not to mention what would happen if he wished for more. If he wished to do more, to be with me, to really be with me, would I grant it? Would I have to grant it? Would I want to grant it? Would it make me a Jinn prostitute if I granted it?
Our lips touch, and all thoughts of his wishes leave my mind. For once, I’m granting my own wish. And that wish is to be right here, kissing Nate.
Turns out I really am one talented Jinn. My wish comes true for so long that when I open my eyes, I’m surprised the sun isn’t rising.
Though my thong has remained unseen, the same cannot be said of the matching lace bra. I’m lying on Nate’s bare chest as he runs his finger along my collarbone.
“Goose bumps,” he says. “You’re freezing.”
For the first time in my life, the cold isn’t bothering me.
Nate removes his shirt from behind our heads and lays it across my torso. We stay that way, just talking. He asks about my aunts and cousins, and I start to tell him about everyone who’s been in my life since the day I was born. But thinking about Yasmin ignites a stabbing in my chest and I have to stop before tears escape my eyes.
I didn’t want anything to ruin my date with Nate, but the Afrit and what they are capable of will loom over everything I do for the rest of my life, worming their way into even the most unexpected of circumstances.
I make Nate tell me about his family instead. I’m envious when he mentions his dad has been teaching him to sail.
“I’d love to go out on the ocean like that,” I say.
“I’ll take you,” Nate says. “I’m getting pretty good. Though my sister, Megan, she’s awesome. She’s only twelve, but she’s a natural.”
“You two get along?”
Nate nods. “Oh yeah. I think it helps that we’re further apart in age. Always felt like I wanted to watch out for her. Like Henry does for his little sister.”
“Lisa,” I say softly. I pat the blanket until I find my shirt and pull it over my head. Being half naked with Nate and picturing Henry makes me uncomfortable in ways I don’t want to think about right now. Fortunately, a faint wop-wop-wop quickly builds to the point where it drowns out everything.
Nate points to the sky. “Helicopter.”
“It’s really close,” I shout. “Like it’s going to land right on top of us.”
Nate stands up. I reluctantly hand him his shirt and he puts it on, his eyes still following the helicopter.
“Looks like a medical copter,” he says. “It’s setting do
wn on the main road, I think.”
Before I know it, Nate’s pecking me on the cheek, asking if I’ll be okay waiting here alone for him, and sprinting down the beach in the dark. He leaves me with the only flashlight. Naturally he’s going to see if anyone’s hurt, if anyone needs help. He’s done so much extra first-aid training than is required for a lifeguard, he’s probably halfway toward being a paramedic.
I know from firsthand experience he’s very good at mouth-to-mouth. Here I am, all alone in the dark on a deserted patch of beach, and I’m blushing.
* * *
I finish the almonds and wash them down with the sweet cappuccino. I’ve had enough coffee to know it’s not the caffeine that’s filling me with this tingling feeling. But the longer I sit waiting for Nate to return, the more the feeling fades and the faster the cold coming off the late summer ocean seeps in.
I’m now a Jinn burrito, wrapped in the blanket, standing and shining the flashlight down the beach. I check my cell phone, but I’m not getting a signal this far down the beach. I wonder where Nate could be? He should be back by now.
Between the cold, the dark, and the rustling of something in the tall dune grass, I’m done. I pack up Nate’s backpack and slip my arms through the straps. I start walking, using the flashlight to keep me on the sand and out of the water, but it’s a long walk all alone without Nate. The moon seemed much brighter on the way here.
Pointing the beam of light in midair, searching for Nate, I miss any advance warning of the huge rock in my path and fall flat on my stomach. I stand and spit grains of sand out of my mouth. Oh, sure, I had to go on and on about how much I love the beach at night. Perfect place for a date. It is, provided the date doesn’t abandon you. I just want to be back with everyone else, warming up by the fire. I’d even settle for being inside the splintering wood walls of the drafty concession stand.
Thunder rolls through my empty stomach as I picture the vanilla-glazed doughnuts and chocolate chip muffins. I close my eyes. I can smell the cinnamon buns. I breathe in. The air floating up my nostrils warms my lungs. It lacks both the chill and the brine of my previous inhale.
This would be strange if I were still on the beach.
But I’m not.
I open my eyes to find the dark walls of the concession stand surrounding me.
The flashlight falls from my hand. I jump at the thud it makes against the wood planks before diving to the floor to turn the damn thing off before the light penetrates the cracks in the walls and someone comes to find me inside a building locked from the outside.
Crawling into the corner, I position my back to the door and rest the flashlight against my stomach. I press the ON button and direct the shaft of light toward my wrist. The bangle is still bronze as I knew it would be. Ridiculous, maybe, but I had to make sure the Afrit hadn’t replaced it with my silver one while I was otherwise occupied with Nate. But, no, I’m still on probation. I’m still wearing the bronze bangle. I’m still unable to do magic. I’m supposed to still be unable to do magic.
But I just apported. The flashlight slides in my sweaty palms. How could I have apported? Panic rises in my chest. Do the Afrit know I apported? My pulse quickens. No, no, they can’t know. They only track the energy we use to do the circulus, right? Isn’t that what my mother said? I’m light-headed from the short breaths I’m struggling to take. What if she’s wrong? Will I be punished? Will she be punished?
Numb, I wait in my corner for the Afrit to come. But they don’t. No one does. I’m alone so long my heart rate slows and my stomach remembers it’s hungry. The dizziness I feel when I rise to my feet makes me grab a stale doughnut. I take small bites and lean against the counter, letting the truth of what just happened sink in.
The bronze bangle didn’t block my magic. How is that possible? I lick icing from my thumb. Was this a one-time thing?
A stack of napkins sits at the far end of the counter. I concentrate. Now the napkins are in front of me. No freakin’ way.
I swallow the last bite of doughnut. Needing something to wash the dryness down, I picture a tall glass of milk. The tingle down my spine lets me know it’s there before I open my eyes. So I’m not a psychic after all. I could mind-read because I still had my powers.
Maybe this bangle’s a dud. Maybe however it’s supposed to restrict my magic is on the fritz. Maybe whatever turns it on when I begin a wish-granting ritual is jammed in the “go” position. Or … maybe, despite the scar on the back of my neck, I don’t need a bangle to release my powers. Maybe I can do magic without one.
Preposterous … and yet my gut says otherwise. Impossible … isn’t it? Wouldn’t I have done something magical before? Even inadvertently, at some point during the first fifteen years of my life, wouldn’t I have used my powers?
Jenny. Of course. Best friends since before we could walk, my mother said. So much so that I wandered across the street and plopped myself on the Carwyns’ doorstep. How gullible was I? I’m sure I landed on their doorstep but not because I scooted across the street on all fours. As a toddler, I must have wanted to see my best friend so badly that I apported myself to her.
Is it really possible I’ve always been able to do magic? If so, my mother must know. And if she knows, why did she keep it a secret? And why haven’t I done more?
“I’m flying, Azra!”
Poor Jenny. I head for the side door of the concession shack, undo the latch, and peek out, still thinking of Jenny. As much as I wish it wasn’t, the memory of that day on the swings is seared into my brain.
“Higher, Azra!”
A memory, which until now, I didn’t fully understand.
“Higher, Azra! Make me go higher!”
I slam the door shut without thinking of the noise. I clutch my A pendant and fall back against the wall, sliding to the floor. Bringing my knees to my chest, I tuck myself into a ball. As I rock back and forth, tears gush like water from an open fire hydrant. Me always having the ability to do magic adds a horrifying subtext to the events of that day.
Jenny and I were on the swings in my backyard, alone. We had each just finished a three-scoop ice cream cone. Chocolate had dripped down my chin and onto my neck and chest. My mother had gone inside for a washcloth, taking my A necklace with her to clean. She had told us not to go on the swings until she returned. Like we were babies. I wasn’t going to be told what to do.
“Come on, Jenny,” I said.
She followed, and we sat on the swings, kicking at the ground with our feet.
“I wish I had a push,” Jenny said.
“I’ll grant your wish,” I said to Jenny, teasing. Though I wanted to, I knew I wasn’t allowed to tell her I was a genie.
But then all of a sudden our legs managed to propel us into the air. Up and up, we went, swinging faster and faster, higher and higher.
“I’m flying, Azra! Higher, Azra!”
It was all my fault.
I must have used magic to push us on the swings, to push us higher and higher in the air, to push us so high, we could touch the clouds.
The force of my trembling threatens to knock the rickety concession shack down. I was a kid. I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t mean for anything bad to happen. I’m sure I only wanted to make Jenny happy. I couldn’t have known. I know I couldn’t have known. But that doesn’t matter.
When you’re responsible for the death of your best friend, nothing else matters.
My hand goes numb from its tight squeeze on my A pendant as I remember something else. That day, Mrs. Seyfreth was going to the ballet. I remember Jenny and I begging her to bring us back the program. She was at the back fence, peering over, booklet in hand, when Jenny fell. That must be what she saw. My mother using magic to try to save Jenny. Mrs. Seyfreth going crazy isn’t my mother’s fault at all. It’s mine.
Forcing myself to breathe, I release my hold on my A and flex my fingers, trying to stimulate the feeling to return. My mother gave me this necklace when I was so young I don’t rem
ember it. I never took it off, feeling a compulsion to always have the pendant against my skin. That is, until the day I turned sixteen. It’s not that I didn’t like it anymore, but the insistent need to wear it was gone. Because … because that pendant was gone.
I once again test the weight of the A around my neck. I knew it was too light—unlike the one tucked in the far corner of my mother’s jewelry box. The one she must have spelled to block my powers. The one she must have spelled so I’d never remove it.
If that’s true, then my mother really does know I don’t need a bangle to release my magic. She knows I’m unlike every other Jinn. But she didn’t want me to know. Because she’s protecting me or because she’s afraid? Considering what I now know about the Afrit, the two go hand in hand.
My world suddenly unstable, I’m as shaky as a three-legged table, but I can’t just apport home. Me disappearing would surely draw unwanted attention. And as my mother taught me, I can’t have that.
I check to make sure no one’s watching before sneaking out the door. Nate must be looking for me. Scratch that, Nate must have organized a search-and-rescue mission for me. I enter into a chaotic mess of people, police cars, and ambulances. There’s even a news van.
I wander through the throng of bodies, but Nate’s nowhere to be found. Wait, there’s Chelsea. Is she crying? The rest of the beautiful bods are slumped over a picnic table. I’m heading toward them when Henry comes up behind me.
“Where have you been?” His voice is full of worry.
I never lie to him, but there’s so much to tell, I don’t know where to begin. My chest tightens and tears again creep into my eyes. Jenny. All this time Henry’s been blaming himself. For what I did. He deserves to know the truth. But he can never know the truth.
“What took you so long to get back here?” he says. “I’ve been looking for you.” He touches my cheek. “You’ve been crying. So you do know? I’m so sorry, Azra.”
Becoming Jinn Page 26