Grant Me A Wish

by Amanda Adair

  Finna O’Connor is on her way back home after a long day at school. She enjoyed the lunch break, her favorite time of the day, where she can eat her salad and gossip together with her clique. Well, lunch break isn’t her only favorite time of the day. In art class she started painting a landscape. Painting relaxes her and makes her forget about everything that’s going on. She wanted to paint Key West, Florida, but then just started drawing a similar mountain landscape like the one she saw on Cristina’s canvas in front of her.

  Sage drops her off in front of her light green town house in Seneca. It’s Friday, and her mom’s taking her to Old Saybrook, Connecticut, a beautiful place for a weekend trip. They haven’t had a real vacation in years. Finally, they’re on the way to a cozy seaside town. During their road trip they talk about Finna’s childhood in Florida and their weekend trips together with both of her parents. She’s attached to her childhood and all those great memories she’s made with her parents. Without hesitation she would turn back time and live through those precious moments once again. Time passes, things change, and people leave. In Old Saybrook they stop in front of a bed and breakfast that her mom’s booked for them. The building has a beautiful white porch and terrace.

  It’s exactly what she needs right now.

  After they check in and carry their bags upstairs Finna opens the door of room number 304. She can’t believe her eyes when looking at a man in a suit.

  Dad, she says, you’re here?

  She walks towards him and hugs him. After several minutes she feels a hand on her back. I want to say hello, her mom says and smiles. He gives her a kiss. In that moment the broken pieces of her heart fall back together. She remembers all those nights her mother cried herself to sleep. Those moments she drank a bottle of wine and shattered the dishes.

  This is over now.

  She’s happy and she never wants this moment to end. It won’t. They will return to Seneca and happily live together as a family in their light green town house.

  Tansy pauses. Everyone’s eyes are still closed, but I hear Finna whine quietly. She must really trust Tansy if she tells this new girl everything. That her parents are divorced, that both her mom and Finna suffer and want him to come back, that she had a wonderful childhood, and that she’s moved here from Florida. Why does she know all this? Why would Finna tell her everything?

  After a minute Tansy continues.

  “This is the second part of Finna’s vision,” she says. Vision. Is she some kind of medium? What the hell.

  A thunder sounds. Loud and roaring. It doesn’t rain, but the sky is dark and cloudy. The clouds aren’t white but dark grey and daunting. Finna’s on her way back home from a party at her classmate’s house. She’s tried to flirt with a guy. He’s new in town and a total hottie. But he wasn’t interested and started flirting with one of her friends.

  The party’s over anyway.

  It’s late, almost midnight, and they’re all drunk. Finna’s a little drunk herself, but not so much that she couldn’t drive home. Sage was supposed to drive all of them home, but she’s busy flirting as well. And Sage is not just a little drunk, but extremely drunk. She promised not to drink. To stay sober this time. It doesn’t matter now. She’s in her car, halfway there, and the moonlight and silence makes her happy right now.

  Once in a while she hears a thunder or sees a lightning. The streets are mostly empty. When the radio starts playing one of her favorite song by Ariana Grande she turns up the volume and sings along.

  Only for a minute she looks at her phone.

  There’s a message from Aspen asking her where she is. In that very moment she’s hurled forwards, then sideward. The airbag appears in front of her. Her car crashes against a fence. Shocked and still tired she leans back and touches the small wound on her forehead. She wonders how this happened as she hears the sound of a horn. Is she hallucinating? A moment later a truck hits the front of her car. It comes to a stop several feet behind her VW.

  This time she’s unconscious.

  A few days later she wakes up in a hospital. When she opens her eyes her mom and dad are arguing in front of her, blaming each other for her accident. The doctor tells her she’s lucky she survived. It will take years for her to be able to walk again. Her leg’s been crushed. Maybe she won’t be able to walk ever again.

  Six months later Finna didn’t only gain twenty pounds, she still can’t walk. She can barely move her legs.

  I open my eyes. Her story gave me a more uncomfortable shudder than the breeze earlier.

  “This is creepy,” Finna says and sits up.

  “It’s supposed to be creepy,” Robert argues.

  “How do you know my parents are divorced?,” Finna asks. A few tears are rolling down her cheeks. She’s crying a little.

  “You told me,” Tansy says. “Remember? It’s just a story.” She touches her shoulders, and Finna goes back to her place in our circle. “Next one.”

  “I don’t like this game,” Finna says. “It isn’t even a game. It’s just storytelling.”

  “I think it’s fun,” Sofia says, “I’ll go next.”

  “I like the horror story,” Robert says, “but what’s the purpose of the first story?”

  “Well, it’s the one that could come true,” she says light-heartedly. “It’s just a game. I think it’s nice to have a less horrible story beforehand. A story we all dream of. It’s a tradition to tell two stories for each person.” She looks down and waits for Sofia to lay down in front of us.

  I don’t want her to go next.

  chapter 5

  Sofia Varela is not your average pretty and popular girl, but she has some average girl dreams. Going to college, finding a boyfriend and future husband …

  “I volunteer,” Robert says and laughs.

  No, don’t. I forbid someone like Robert Cavanaugh to date my cousin.

  “Shh, Robert,” Tansy says. “You can flirt with her later. Don’t interrupt the story.”

  …and she wants to have children, preferably two little brunette girls. Twins maybe. She could buy them matching outfits. She thinks twins are cute. Sofia has another dream, which she shares with most girls.

  On a Saturday Sofia travels all the way to Manhattan, New York City, to the kingdom reigned by girls like Blair Waldorf and Serena van der Woodsen. After a sunny afternoon spent shopping in the stores on Fifth and Madison Avenue she goes clubbing with her cousin. With two fake IDs that allow them to enter the club and drink, they arrive at the venue. It is one of the more expensive but pretty alternative clubs in the city. It’s hot inside and the air’s sticky.

  Somehow they manage to sneak into the VIP area. They sip champagne, talk to college students, dancers and singers, and young female and male business or media professionals.

  The next day, when she opens her eyes she’s blinded by the sun that makes its way through the window of the chic hotel room she’s in. She can’t remember how she got here. Next to her in the king size bed there’s a young man with dark hair and a beard. As she looks at his face she realizes who this is. It can’t be him. He’s just won a Grammy for the album of the year.

  She’s close to freaking out.

  She grabs her phone from the metallic nightstand and looks at the numerous new notifications. Then she sits up. She opens her mouth, looks at the guy, then at her phone. Her Instagram blew up. Apparently he’s mentioned her in his story. Paparazzi took photos of them leaving the club early in the morning. There are articles about Sofia Varela, the new girlfriend that was seen with the megastar, kissing and holding hands.

  This is another dream that she shares with most teenage girls. To go viral on social media. To become famous overnight. To date a good-looking celebrity. Maybe not like this, with a one-night stand, but for now she doesn’t care. She’s fine with it.

  For a moment I slightly open my eyes. I see Sofia staring at her feet while Tansy’s concentrated. She has her eyes closed. Most of them do. It’s darker than I expected. The candle light
barely enlightens the faces of those around me. I can’t see any furniture, only blackness.

  It’s Monday when Sofia’s phone rings. Katherine Varela. Her mother. She’s just adjusted to life in Seneca. Her cousin’s friends are her friends now. She’s part of their group. Everything is perfect. After years of traveling the world she’s ready to settle and graduate in the States.

  But when she accepts the call from her mom she realizes it’s time to say goodbye once again. To leave her friends behind, her lovers, her aunt and uncle, and her new school. And all that in the middle of the school year.

  I’m sorry, darling, she says, but it’s better for you to be with us. We found a great international school here in Manila.

  In the blink of an eye her world collapses. Two weeks later Sofia and her dad are at their new apartment in Manila. Her mom went to the doctor’s two hours ago and hasn’t come back yet. Sofia and her dad are escorted to the ambulance parked outside and brought to a hospital.

  What’s going on, her father asks multiple times, but no one bothers to answer them.

  At the hospital they’re separated and put into quarantine. Sofia is sitting in a room that’s locked when a nurse appears in front of the door. She can see her through a small window. She tells her that Katherine’s infected.

  Infected with what, she asks.

  It’s the coronavirus. A mutated version of it.

  And for this mutation there is barely any chance of survival. After a short pause the nurse says that her father’s infected as well. They don’t know yet how deadly the mutated virus is. They’re still waiting for her results. They’re currently busy with all their patients. The nurse tells her to stay calm, but Sofia is too afraid to lose her parents. And she knows that the probability of her being infected with the mutated virus is strong.

  Silence.

  “You’re a great storyteller,” I hear Sofia praise Tansy. “It felt like I’m really there.” I open my eyes and see her sitting in front of Tansy, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Ever thought about working in the advertising or PR industry?”

  “I think I’d be qualified,” Tansy jokes. “I have excellent lying and manipulation skills.”

  The two laugh. Who says that about themselves, even as a joke?

  “How do you come up with that?,” Remi asks. “Do you just take what you already know and transform it into some horror stories?”

  “Remember,” Sofia says, “the first one isn’t supposed to be a horror story. I’d like to be famous. Maybe not as the affair of some singer but in general I’d be more than okay with it.”

  “Cristina?,” Tansy says. “Wanna go next?”

  “I’m sure you’ll come up with a strange story for me,” she says.

  A phone rings and I instantly look at mine. It’s not my ringtone but I have a new message from my mom. I text her that I’m at Remi’s with Sofia. That should calm her down. She’s sometimes a bit extreme when it comes to saving me from possible dangers. Robert walks outside the living room and upstairs as Cristina lays down. It was his phone that rang. I’m tired of closing my eyes but when Tansy starts telling another story I close them.

  When Cristina Graham arrives at room number B15 she is both nervous and excited. In front of the room there are two other students sitting on a bench. She sits down next to a girl with bright red hair and a Nirvana shirt.

  The woman who conducts the interviews opens the door and says, Deborah Eugenie Bruce. I’m happy you’re here. We were impressed by your portfolio.

  Deborah is Cristina’s greatest rival. She’s a young aspiring artist who’s sold twenty pieces. She has her one blog and twenty thousand followers on her Instagram account where she posts her art.

  All three of those waiting in front of the room are in the final round of a selection procedure for a scholarship. A scholarship granted by the Estelle Amarante Foundation that supports young artists. The scholarship guarantees them a place at The New School and provides them with excellent connections to the art scene. Cristina’s greatest wish is to study fine art in New York and Paris.

  As a little girl Cris wanted to become a fashion designer but she realized the it’s not for her. Being forced to conform to the color trends and the mainstream doesn’t make her happy. She wants to be creative, without any boundaries and restrictions. She wants to be a real artist. She’s already had some exhibitions so far. Only one of her pieces was sold but that one made her four hundred Dollars. The others remain in her closet and on her wall.

  Two weeks after the interview Cris receives an email by the selection committee.

  With sweaty hands she tries to click on it. She starts reading. They’ve chosen Deborah Eugenie Bruce. She reads the letter again, but the name doesn’t change. Deborah. Not Cristina. This is the end of the world. She tries to talk herself into believing that she doesn’t need this scholarship. That she doesn’t need New York. That maybe she can do it without this program.

  A week later she receives another email. This time her name appears in the middle of the screen. She wonders why, and even calls them, just to make sure this is not a prank. To make sure it wasn’t one of her friends trying to make fun of her by sending her a fake acceptance into the program. It is not. The woman on the phone confirms her scholarship.

  Another two weeks later Cris finds out the reason for the new selection.

  Tansy pauses.

  “What is the reason?,” Sofia asks. “You can’t stop in the middle of it.”

  “It’s not the middle of it,” she says. “It’s the end. Wait for the scary part.”

  Again, I open my eyes. This time Tansy doesn’t look so happy anymore. She isn’t smiling. When our eyes meet I quickly close mine.

  It’s a regular day at school, a regular Tuesday afternoon, when Cristina walks down the hallway. She’s spend some time in the library, so she can finish her paper on Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. Even though she doesn’t like average romance novels, she begins to like Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy.

  It is half past five when she looked at her watch. She almost drops her pen because she was supposed to meet a friend at five. She looks at her phone while hurrying towards the exit.

  Take your time, her friend texts her.

  Okay, she thinks and turns to the left. She emptied two bottles of diet coke, so she should go to the restroom before driving away. She leans against the door, then stops. On the other side of the restroom there is a woman who just lifts her shirt and pulls out some kind of round pillow with straps on each side.

  Cris opens her mouth, but she doesn’t say anything. She knows this woman. It’s her physics and math teacher. When Mrs. Boyd looks at Cris through the mirror above the basins she turns around and leaves. What did she just witness? A woman faking her pregnancy? Her stomach’s flat like a fitness model. She isn’t pregnant at all. She’s just removed her fake baby tummy in front of Cristina’s eyes.

  Miss Graham, wait, she hears her say. She’s following her, and she catches up with her. You can’t tell anyone. It’s none of your business.

  Cristina can’t believe she’s trying to talk it down.

  My husband knows, she says.

  Cris doesn’t believe her. While her teacher’s trying to convince her that things aren’t the way they seem, she turns around. She’s angry. Angry that she knows and angry that her teacher fakes a pregnancy.

  I won’t tell anyone, she says, on one condition.

  That day Cristina’s her lucky day.

  She makes a deal with her teacher. She won’t tell anyone about this if her teacher raises her grade from a D to a B, so she doesn’t fail any of her classes. She wanted to get an A, but Mrs. Boyd convinced her it would draw attention to both of them. Cristina wonders why she faked a pregnancy, yet has a newborn in her arms when she visits school two months later. Where did that woman get this baby? Cristina forgot about their deal. She’s happy that her grades are stable. Many months later their agreement was revealed to the principal, and Cris has to
face the consequences of the blackmailing.

  Silence. No one says anything.

  “Interesting story,” Cristina says and jumps up. “I’m gonna grab some more pizza rolls. Anyone else want some?”

  I open my eyes. Cristina jumps up. Tansy looks to the ground, or maybe at the candles. I can’t tell.

  “Me,” I say and follow her to the kitchen.

  I don’t want to seem greedy but I want to take a break. It’s so dark that we barely find our way out of the living room. I grab her hand, so I don’t stumble.

  “Her stories are getting weirder,” Cris says and grabs the plate with the rest of the pizza rolls. “Oh, they’re cold.”

  “I don’t care, I like them cold” I say, then I lower my voice. “How does the new girl know so much about us and the school? How does she know about Finna and her parents and you and the scholarship? I mean Mrs. Boyd’s pregnancy is obvious but somethings wrong with her so-called game.”

  “Maybe we should leave soon,” she says and shrugs, then we return to the living room.

  Probably they’ve told her these things and now she’s using them for creating her stories. Why can’t Cris just tell me that they’ve told Tansy too much. It’s stupid, but I understand. Maybe they’re ashamed. Who knows what they told her about me?

  Tansy clears her throat before choosing her next volunteer. Or should I say victim?

  chapter 6

  Sage Holland is a pretty girl, and we all know that pretty girls evolve into prom queens. On prom night at the prestigious Horace Blake High School Sage is wearing the most beautiful dress she could find online. She had to send many dresses back because they weren’t perfect. And Sage wanted to look perfect.

  She’s spent years to transform her outer caterpillar into a butterfly. This dress cost her more than a thousand bucks, but it is worth it. It really is a prom queen dress. It’s a light blue dress with silver details and lace sleeves and a beautiful neckline.