As You Wish

by Jackson Pearce

  It’s that simple. Right now, she’ll wish.

  “No,” I reply.

  “Oh. Okay, then I’ll just wish—”

  “No!” I cut her off sharply. “I mean, don’t wish. I don’t mind being here, staying until you decide what you really want. They’re your wishes; you should take your time. Caliban isn’t going anywhere.” I sit down in the armchair.

  I just said that. I just turned wishes down.

  “Good,” she says, and lays back down. “I just…I’d miss…” She trails off and her cheeks flush bright red. She picks at the loose threads in her quilt. “Anyhow. So what’s Caliban like?” she asks quickly.

  I smile and let my head rest against the back of the armchair. “I don’t know. It’s still. Everything is very still, compared to here.”

  “Boring?” Viola asks.

  “No, not boring. I just mean…no one ages. No one hurries. No one gets excited about Art Expos or dates or whatever, because…well, you have a lifetime for that sort of thing.”

  “What does it look like, though?” Viola replies.

  “It’s like…you know how before they build a new skyscraper or apartments, they put up a picture of the building surrounded by trees and flowers and everything?”

  “Yeah—only it never ends up being surrounded by much more than concrete.”

  “But in Caliban, it is. You have the giant glass buildings but then…the flowers.”

  “It sounds like Oz,” she says. “Like in the movies, I mean, with the Emerald City….” As she drifts off, I’m suddenly very aware that she’s looking at me. Our eyes lock for a long time. “You’re sure you want this place instead of a fancy city garden?” she adds.

  I exhale and nod. “This place has its charms, too. You don’t have the Ancients breathing down your neck here, talking about repopulating Caliban and all that. You want to hear some sex talks….”

  Viola laughs, and though I can’t see her face, I know it’s lit up in the shadows. “Repopulate? So wait, you said there are only a few thousand jinn, right?”

  “Give or take, I imagine.”

  “Why so few?”

  I run my hands along the chair arms for a moment, enjoying the rippling of fabric beneath my fingers. “Well, if you believe the Ancients, it’s all part of our punishment.”

  “Punishment?”

  My eyes are growing used to the darkness, and I can just make out the outline of her form, sitting up and hugging her knees in bed.

  “It’s this old story, sort of like our own little creation tale. The myth is that ages ago, jinn and humans lived here together. Jinn had magical powers, but instead of using them for the good of everyone—human and jinn alike—they used it for personal gain, power, selfishness, that sort of thing. So as punishment, jinn were made the servants of wishing humans and banished to Caliban.”

  “It doesn’t sound like it’s a terrible place to be banished to.”

  “I never figured out that part either, to be honest. But keep in mind, that part is all just a myth. The only hard facts are that as the population here grows, more and more people have wishes. Eventually there were too many mortals with wishes for the jinn to keep up with, so instead of everyone getting their wishes granted, the Ancients select a few hundred at a time—I think they try to spread out the wishes so you don’t have too many people in one area suddenly winning the lottery or becoming rock stars. But the more often we’re called, the more often we’re here. The more often we’re here, the more often we age. And the more often we age—”

  “The more often you grow old and die,” Viola finishes for me.

  “Exactly,” I answer, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. “Combine that with the fact that we don’t attach to one another like you people do, and you don’t exactly have a recipe for a booming population. That’s why there’s all the protocol, all the rules, all the desperation to increase the population. The Ancients want us in, out, and back to our normal lives; they make our masters forget all about us so there’s no risk they’ll tell other humans that we exist and can be summoned. They’re afraid that we’ll die out.”

  “I don’t want you to die,” Viola says in a small voice.

  My head jerks up. “No, no. Don’t worry about that,” I mumble quietly, as if I’m afraid the Ancients will hear me from Caliban.

  “I’ll wish if you want. Really.”

  “I told you, no. They’re your wishes.”

  “Right,” Viola sighs. “Well, let me know if you…if you change your mind. About me wishing now, I mean.”

  “Okay.”

  But I know I won’t.

  thirteen

  Viola

  I GRUMBLE AND swat at my alarm. No matter how many times I’ve been late to school because of hitting the SNOOZE button, I know it’s an unbreakable morning habit. The pop song blasting through the tiny speaker is silenced, and I prepare to fall back asleep for seven minutes. A soft laugh interrupts the quiet.

  Jinn. I sit bolt upright in the bed, clutching the covers to my chest. Jinn is sitting in the arm chair, legs swung up over the side and arms folded.

  “You stayed,” I say, trying to cover my surprise.

  “You abuse alarm clocks,” he responds.

  “Something like that,” I answer, and try to smooth the tangled nest that is my hair. “Decided the park would be fine by itself for a night?” I kick my legs over the side of the bed—no point in trying to fall back asleep now.

  “To be honest,” Jinn says as I step into the bathroom and let the shower water heat up, “I forgot to leave. I was just watching stars and then…it was morning.”

  “The exciting life of a magical creature,” I tease. Jinn rolls his eyes.

  I shower quickly and dress in the bathroom; when I emerge, Jinn is flipping through old copies of Seventeen with a look of mild disgust.

  “So, you’re going to a movie with Aaron tonight? I imagine that means more park time for me?” Jinn asks, shutting the magazine and pushing it away.

  “It’s only a few hours,” I explain. “We’re not even going to dinner, just to see some horror movie or something.”

  “But you hate horror movies,” Jinn replies. He says it in a matter-of-fact way that tells me he simply read it in my eyes—the wish not to see movie murders.

  “I don’t hate horror movies. I just…don’t watch them,” I say, opening and slamming drawers in an attempt to find a hairbrush.

  “Why is he taking you to see a horror movie when you hate horror movies?” Jinn asks, studying my eyes and, I’m sure, reading my distaste for gore. I have to admit that I’ve sort of gotten used to him reading me. It’s even nice, sometimes, to be able to explain everything with just a look. Jinn rises and grabs my hairbrush from under a stack of shirts, then hands it to me. I blush and nod in appreciation before I respond.

  “It’s not about the movie, it’s about doing something together. That’s the point of dates, you know, dark theaters and cuddling or whatever.”

  “Right,” Jinn says, cringing. “Sounds…great. Really.”

  I laugh. “It’s nice to feel attractive and…um…appreciated,” I say, trying to be tactful.

  Jinn grimaces. “Don’t tell me about it,” he says as I head downstairs. “I guess I’ll see you after then?”

  “Yes. I mean, unless you had big plans for the park?” I’m only half teasing; the idea of Jinn just waiting around for me to call him is a little uncomfortable, though I have to admit it’s pleasant knowing he’ll always be there when I want him to. He studies me for a moment, reading the concern in my eyes.

  “No,” he says, smiling. “No plans—and it’s my job to be here when you need me, you know. Don’t worry about it.”

  Jinn was right. I hate horror movies.

  Even the poster I’m staring at freaks me out a little. I mean, how many of these Saw movies do they have to make before people get sick of watching teenage girls be tortured? I shiver even though it’s not cold, and look longingly at a
poster for a generic Meg Ryan comedy.

  “I’ve got the tickets, baby,” Aaron says from behind me. I tear my eyes away from the poster to see him holding two orange tickets and motioning to the theater door. Aaron wraps an arm around me and tugs me close to him as we enter, heading straight to theater twelve without stopping for snacks. It’s probably for the better anyhow, since I’m not sure I could eat Twizzlers while someone’s eyeball is melting on screen.

  “I really think you’ll like this,” Aaron says as we find a spot toward the back of the theater. “I mean, I don’t think you’ll be able to walk away from this and say you still hate horror movies.”

  “I doubt that,” I mumble nervously. I can feel my cheeks burning pink—what kind of sixteen-year-old is afraid of a movie?

  I sigh and sit back as the theater darkens and the previews begin. Aaron raises the armrest between us and kisses my forehead—it still makes me feel warm, even with the impending eyeball destruction. I force myself to think of things like forehead kisses, things that make me happy. How about the fact that, for once, I’m not sitting alone in the art room after school? That I’m on a date with Aaron Moor, my boyfriend? Better to be in a scary movie with someone who likes me than sitting at home alone. Well, not alone really. Since Jinn showed up, the whole sitting at home thing has been a little less painful. Still, I’m actually on a date. One melting eyeball scene is a fair trade for a social life, right?

  Aaron slides a hand behind my lower back and lets it rest on my hip as the actual movie begins to roll. I try not to pay too much attention, since getting attached to the perky blonde starlet will probably ensure her horrible death. Aaron grins at me, then shakes his head at my obvious nervousness, pulling me closer. I turn my head to his shoulder and squeeze my eyes shut when a starlet is quietly offed, and the rest of the beautiful cast decides to split up and look for their missing friend. Mental note: Tell Lawrence and Jinn that if I ever go missing in a creepy house, don’t bother looking for me.

  “Baby, you’re missing it,” Aaron whispers to me.

  “Good,” I mutter back. Aaron laughs quietly and squeezes me. At least this is romantic, curling up beside Aaron…even if I’m doing so while the sounds of bones breaking shoots through the theater. It’s hard not to yank my hands up and cover my ears.

  “You’re really scared, aren’t you?” Aaron realizes.

  “Told you I’m a wimp,” I whisper back without removing my head from the folds of his shirt. Aaron chuckles and tilts my head toward his, then kisses me on the mouth. It’s a slow kiss, deep, and I worry for a moment about the other moviegoers watching us. Not that anyone should be ashamed to be seen kissing Aaron Moor, but still, it makes me feel weird. I pull out of the kiss, returning my head to his shoulder.

  Aaron laughs under his breath, then guides my face back to his, this time leaning in on me, blocking my view of the screen. I try to ignore the feeling of eyes on us and kiss him back. I pull away slightly, attempt to make it a little less passionate, but when Aaron presses harder against me, I give in.

  fourteen

  Jinn

  I CRINGE.

  I can’t watch this. I don’t mean the abysmal movie that’s playing—I mean Aaron practically on top of Viola. He brushes her hair aside and nuzzles her neck like they’re in some sort of love hideaway instead of a half-full theater. I grit my teeth and touch the lock of hair by my temple, the single curl that’s shorter from where Viola cut it. Stop it, I command myself. They’re just kissing. If you keep this up, she’s going to realize you’re here.

  Someone behind me tosses ice at them; it grazes across Viola’s cheek, causing her to jerk back from Aaron’s lips. She gives an apologetic glance to the guy who threw the ice, looking right through me as I sit invisible in the row behind her. Even though I know she can’t see me, I freeze, afraid to be caught; not so much because this breaks the first protocol about respecting her, but rather because I know she’ll be furious with me. But I couldn’t stand the thought of her and Aaron here alone, especially not after the wishes I saw in Aaron’s eyes when he picked her up…wishes that mostly involve scenes straight out of Playboy. I shiver. She’s not yours to protect, I chant to myself. It doesn’t help.

  The wishes in Viola’s eyes are nothing like Aaron’s—she wishes to be watching a comedy, to be cuddling with Aaron on her living room couch, to be painting. She doesn’t want to be here. And the public makeout session in the middle of a gory movie in a sticky-floored theater? Can’t Aaron read her wishes at all? I should’ve included that ability when I made him love her.

  I sigh. Tell him no, Viola. This isn’t what you want.

  Viola doesn’t speak. Aaron smiles, then kisses her again.

  Tell him no!

  Viola kisses Aaron back, and I clench my fists. Don’t give in like this just because he loves you! Aaron’s hand slips down and runs up Viola’s thigh.

  I should leave. I shouldn’t be here. I’m just a wish granter! I shouldn’t have any other relationship with my master.

  But then I see Viola’s face, which is overwhelmed in wishes for everything about the situation to be different. Hot anger floods through my body, and I lunge over the seats, forgetting to be invisible to Viola.

  I grab the collar of Aaron’s shirt and yank him off her with more force than necessary, thrusting him back into his seat. Aaron stares at Viola, confused and unable to see me.

  “What just happened?” Aaron says, rubbing his head where it rebounded off the red velvet seat.

  I could ask you the same thing, I think, breathing hard in anger. But I know what happened, what really just happened:

  I’m…jealous.

  Wait. No. I can’t be jealous. My fingers tense and I can feel my pulse throbbing under my skin. My heart pounds in my chest and my mind races. The image of Viola and Aaron collides with the realization that I’m jealous. Jealousy is a mortal emotion. One that means I feel I have something to lose—something that, if gone, will tear away a part of me. Jealousy is not for my kind. And yet there it is: I’m jealous. Aaron gets to touch her, gets to be seen with her….

  I look at Viola, whose eyes are wide in a combination of shock and anger—making it tricky to read any wishes beneath them. She’s staring at me with flames in her eyes, but then lets her gaze fall back to Aaron.

  “Candy. I want some candy. I’ll be right back,” she says icily, nearly shaking. Someone in the back of the theater shushes her, but she grits her teeth and looks at me. Fury invades her eyes, casting aside her wishes. She snatches her purse from the adjacent seat, and I follow her as she storms down the lighted stairs to the dark hallway. When we’re right beside the exit, she wheels around to face me, her face sharp and shadowed by the light pouring through the door’s tiny window.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she demands in a harsh whisper.

  I wince at the pull of her direct questions—she wants answers so badly that it hurts me, twisting my stomach around and seizing my muscles. “I’m pulling a guy off you when you clearly don’t want to make out while eyeballs are melting right in front of you. You don’t want to be here, Viola, I see it—”

  “That doesn’t matter!” Viola hisses, taking a step closer to me. “It’s not your job to pull my boyfriend off me! And you don’t get to choose who I make out with! Just because you can read my wishes doesn’t mean you get to call the shots!” She leans back against the wall as a teenage stranger with “I wish there was a closer bathroom” written all over his face runs down the dark hall and slams through the exit.

  Viola’s face whirls back to anger as soon as he’s passed. “What makes you think you can chaperone me like that?” she says with an uncharacteristic snarl.

  I hesitate. The real answer is: because I’m jealous. But I can’t be, I shouldn’t be, so instead of saying it, I avoid it.

  “You know what? Fine,” I snap back at her. “I shouldn’t have broken protocol, master.”

  “It has nothing to do with me being your ma
ster!” she yells. “You shouldn’t have done it because you’re my friend!”

  “We aren’t supposed to be friends!” I erupt in frustration. “We aren’t supposed to be like this! I’m supposed to grant your wishes and leave, and in two wishes I can do that. I stop breaking protocol, you get your life back, and I get back to Caliban and start acting like a jinn instead of some stupid mortal. It’s better for everyone.”

  “Fine then, I’ll wish!” she shouts.

  But I disappear before she can.

  fifteen

  Viola

  I HOLD IN a sigh of relief when I realize Jinn is gone. I don’t really have a wish, and I’m not sure I would’ve been able to wish on the spot like that. Anger rushing through me, I storm into the brightly lit theater lobby, which is flooded with the smell of burnt popcorn. I want to go home, right now, but Aaron drove. I yank my cell phone from my purse and call Lawrence—I think Aaron would leave the movie for me, but I hate to make him go before the last teen gets eviscerated.

  “Can you come get me?” I say flatly when he answers the phone.

  “I thought you were with Aaron,” he says in alarm.

  “I am, but…I’ve got to get out of here.”

  “What happened? Did Aaron try anything? Where is Jinn?”

  “He’s the problem, not Aaron. Look, please, I just want to go home instead of trying to stomach the rest of this awful horror thing we’re seeing.”

  “Be there in fifteen minutes,” Lawrence replies nervously, and I hear his car growl to a start. I snap the phone shut and dip back into the theater. Aaron welcomes me by wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me into him, all without turning away from the movie.

  “No,” I whisper, trying to resist sinking into his side. “I have to go.”