by Rose David
It wasn’t until we reached the relative safety of the sidewalk that I could really tune into the conversation.
Raj shrugged. “I don’t know. They probably cost about three hundred grand, give or take.”
Natalie shook her head. “That’s crazy. For a car? Who has that much money just sitting around?”
“Some people do, I guess. You wouldn’t know it by how many cookies he bought from us,” Raj said, a smile slipping into his voice. Besides playing some musical instrument, Raj’s favorite activity is trying to get Natalie to dislike Sean Fabry (nearly impossible, by the way).
But today, Natalie nodded again, her normally open face pinched with thought.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a spark of satisfaction in Rajesh’s eyes. “And,” I added, hoping to help, “you know he’s still got that other car. The black one? He’s not even going to donate it to charity.”
At that, Rajesh’s satisfaction was replaced with admiration. “Dude’s got two cars? Can his parents adopt me?”
“Raj!” cried Natalie. “There are people starving less than an hour from here. Isn’t having two expensive cars kind of extravagant?”
Raj cleared his throat and mumbled something in agreement, though I was pretty sure he wouldn’t have objected to becoming the newest Fabry, at least during Christmas.
When we got to McDonald’s a few minutes later, Rajesh and I ordered our usual cholestor-iffic burger combos, while Natalie opted for a fruit-laden salad-thing. Even after ten years of friendship, Natalie’s lunch choices still confused me. Not getting a burger (or at least something fried) at a fast food place was like going to Disney World and refusing to hug Mickey.
Our table had fallen into an amicable silence when the doorbell clanged and a familiar, too-loud voice piped in:
“You are going to pull so much wool with that, man.”
All three of us groaned, though I had a feeling I was the loudest. The voice belonged to Todd Griffin, the closest thing to a silverback gorilla that I had ever had the privilege of attending school with.
And he seemed to love reminding me about the time in ninth grade when he ran up and french-kissed me on a dare during lunch. That day, it had taken all of my self-control not to turn him into a purple chihuahua.
As Todd walked through the doors, I had to squelch that urge all over again.
Sean followed behind, laughing like Todd’s comment was actually funny, instead of just gross. “Whatever, man.”
“We should drive to Chicago this weekend and try to pick up a hooker, dude,” said Todd. “A hot one, though. Not one that’ll make the backseat smell like B.O.”
I rolled my eyes. “Gawd, what a pervert.”
Somehow, Todd heard me through the din of cafe music and lunchtime conversation. Of course, if anyone said, “Pervert!” it was almost like calling his name, so I shouldn’t have been surprised.
His lips curled into a smug sneer as he turned to me. “Hey, Lay. How’s it going, baby?”
That stupid nickname made me want to throw a plastic fork in his face. I didn’t think it would be lethal, and I had heard that eye patches were the hot new accessory.
Maybe next time, I told myself, turning back to Nat and Raj. I had learned long ago not to add fuel to Todd’s stupidity.
“Aw, come on,” said Todd. “You keep acting like that, I won’t ask you to prom.”
“Oh, gosh,” I said in my best Disney princess voice, “do you promise?”
Todd grinned, obviously delighted that I had taken the bait, instead of completely ignoring him like I should have. “Yeah, but if you’re a good girl, maybe we can work something out. You like hot tubs? ‘Cause I’m thinking--”
“Quit being a dick, man,” Sean interrupted.
Todd gave a pig-like grunt. “Or what, dude? You gonna kick my ass?”
I tried to catch Sean’s eye. I would totally help you out with that one, I wanted to tell him. You wouldn’t even have to use up a wish!
But Sean’s steady gaze didn’t waver from Todd. “Probably,” he said. “Then I’d make you walk back to school in your underwear. If you’re lucky, maybe some nice old guy with a felony on his record’ll pick you up.”
I tilted my head. Was it just me, or did Sean’s biceps suddenly look bigger?
Not that I had been checking them out or anything. I mean, much.
Todd shut up pretty quickly after that, probably because he knew that no one in their right mind would let him into their car.
Except for Sean, I guess.
Sean gave me a quick nod, one corner of his mouth jerking up.
I almost raised my hand to wave, but then I felt Nat and Rajesh staring. Instead of acknowledging Sean, I turned away and dived into the rest of my meal, trying to ignore the guilt that dinged through me.
A minute later, I sneaked a peek up at the counter, where Sean and Todd were ordering. If Sean felt hurt at all by my brush-off, I couldn’t tell from his (newly corrected) profile. “I’ll have a number four, no mayo, with a--” He stopped, craning his neck to stare at something outside the glass doors.
Todd frowned. “What’s that cop doing to your car, dude?”
A half-chewed french fry lodged in my throat as I watched Sean run outside. Coughing, I washed the fry down with a gulp of Coke, and stood. “Gotta go.”
“What’s wrong?” said Nat.
I bolted for the door. “I... Bad burrito!”
It wasn’t until I had stepped outside that I realized I’d just told the entire restaurant that I was supposedly having intestinal problems, but I only had a half-second to care.
“You have the right to remain silent,” said the police officer. “You have the right to an attorney.”
Sean’s jaw looked ready to hit the ground. He turned slowly, pulling his arms behind his back. He winced as the officer snapped a set of handcuffs onto his wrists.
“If you can’t afford an attorney, one will be provided to you by the state,” continued the cop, leading Sean toward the squad car parked nearby.
“Wait!” I yelled.
They both halted, almost as if I had wished them frozen. The officer cocked an eyebrow at me. “Have you got something to add, Miss?”
“Yeah, I’m... Umm...” I’m a genie, and I can vouch for his innocence! Lacking anything else to do, I whimpered.
The cop led Sean into the squad car, guiding him into the backseat. “Miss, I suggest you go inside now.”
I nodded, but my legs wouldn’t move. All I could do was stand there, helpless as I watched the car (and Sean’s tense figure) disappear into the afternoon traffic.
CHAPTER TEN
“...and she totally ran out of McDonald’s and tried to wrestle the cop,” came Miniskirt Girl’s giggly whisper.
It had only been a few hours since Sean’s arrest, but the story had already bloated into completely impossible proportions, particularly when it came to my little outburst in the parking lot.
“Dan says she was in the Israeli army,” said her friend. “That’s where she learned kung-fu.”
Groaning, I turned in my desk to glower at the two idiots who were literally whispering behind my back.
The girls sat up from their conspiratorial hunch, but neither of them bothered to look embarrassed. In fact, Miniskirt Girl looked ready to spit in my eye. “Umm, can I help you?”
“If you don’t shut up right now, I’m going to chokehold both of you,” I said.
Miniskirt Girl snorted. “What-ever. We weren’t even talking about you.”
“Of course not. I’m sure it was the other girl who supposedly beat up a cop today.” As I turned away, I wished I could chokehold them, if only so I didn’t have to listen to them giggle about what a “psycho” I was.
I bit back a growl. If I had to listen to anyone else talk about how I had tried to karate chop either Sean or the police officer (sometimes both), I might just run to the main office and start cursing over the intercom. Between the gossip and the new worries b
uzzing in my brain, I was glad this was my last class today.
As the hour crawled by, I wondered for the millionth time why Sean had been arrested in the first place. Maybe someone at the factory had noticed a missing car, but how could the police track it all the way to America so soon? And what was happening to Sean now? Was he stuck in a cell with an angry, drunk biker? And was there a way for me to get Sean out of jail without turning him into a fugitive?
At least that last question was easy to answer. A forceful No! echoed through my brain as I trudged out of class.
When I got home, I went straight to my room. Not long after, when my parents came home from work, I yelled a quick greeting from upstairs, and then retreated into my bedroom again. I didn’t trust myself to talk to them, not yet. I didn’t think I could handle more than a few casual questions without breaking into hysterics and begging my parents to post bail for Sean.
So I did the only thing I could do: I lied down in bed and waited.
I didn’t know what I was waiting for, exactly. Maybe a phone call. Maybe for Sean to wish himself out of jail, which would be both good and bad. Sure, he would be out of the orange jumpsuit, but then he’d have to adapt to life as an escaped convict. Surely he was smart enough not to waste a wish on something like that.
After staring at the ceiling for about an hour, I sat up and tried to do some homework--try being the operative word. By the time Dad called me down for dinner, I had read maybe three pages of Taming of the Shrew, but at least my blood pressure had fallen enough for me to walk downstairs and sit with my parents.
Dad made my favorite (spaghetti with lots of oregano), but I could barely taste it. Mom mentioned once that I seemed awfully quiet, but I shrugged and mumbled something about “just wanting to listen.” Then Mom asked me if I was sick, like the only reason I’d be interested in anyone besides myself was because I had the flu or something.
Considering all the craziness with Sean, I should have been too distracted to take offense. But when it comes to my parents, I guess I’m never too busy to be annoyed.
Aside from that, I made it through dinner mostly unscathed. After putting away the dishes, I trudged back to my bedroom, steeling myself for a few more hours of worrying.
I longed to call Nat and tell her everything--starting with me being a genie and ending with Sean becoming a teenaged felon--but I knew that wouldn’t help. Nat would have about five million totally sensible questions to ask me, and I didn’t think I had the strength or patience to endure all that.
Instead, I just sprawled out on my bed again, waiting and wondering, thinking of all the things that might happen. What if Sean broke down and told everyone about me? What if he had already promised to lend my ring to someone else, in exchange for protection from Bubba the Drunk and Disorderly? I didn’t want to think Sean would do that, but at the same time, another part of me knew it was possible.
By the time I realized what I had to do, it was almost midnight, but I wasn’t tired. Sleep was the last thing on my mind.
I needed to help Sean. Wherever he was, I had to make sure he was happy and safe and mostly unharmed. The better he felt, the less likely he would be to barter my ring in exchange for his own safety.
And besides, what good were magical powers if you couldn’t use them to keep your friend (if you could call Sean that) from turning into some hairy guy’s jailhouse bitch?
I crept into the hallway and cocked an ear toward Mom and Dad’s room. No sounds, not even the vague murmur of the TV. If my parents weren’t already asleep, they would be soon. I tiptoed back into my room and carefully shut the door behind me.
I took a deep breath and announced, “I wish to be invisible.”
A feeling like static shock tingled through my body, and when I looked down, I only saw the floor. I held back a cry of fear, waiting for my heart to stop thudding before I made my next move. I needed a minute--okay, maybe a few.
No matter what the movies say, being invisible isn’t fun. I had only done it once before, when I was thirteen. I thought it would be a good way to pull pranks on mean kids at school, but unfortunately, when you can’t see your own feet, it’s pretty damn easy to fall and sprain your wrist.
Too bad. I’d had big plans to de-pants Todd Griffin during gym.
I looked down at my non-self and sighed. Here’s hoping I didn’t trip over my invisible limbs again.
My disembodied voice announced, “I wish to be in the same room as Sean Fabry.”
Now that I was expecting it, being zapped into to a new place felt less like being sucked into a vacuum, and more like slipping down a water slide: weird and slightly disconcerting, but kind of fun.
I braced myself for a hard landing on a bench or a concrete floor. As I bounced onto Sean’s bed for the second time, I yelped in surprise.
Sean jumped and looked around wildly, probably searching for his sports equipment “cross.”
“Just me!” I said.
“Layla? Where are you?” It seemed like Sean’s entire body was turning pink with embarrassment.
Gasping, I realized I was seeing an awful lot of Sean’s body, given that I had caught him shirtless and just about to pull his jeans off.
All I could do was stare, my mouth hanging open. A pleasant buzz filled the space between my ears...
It took a few seconds, but the awkward reality of the situation finally hit me. I covered my eyes with my hands, which did absolutely nothing since I could see through them.
“I wish to be visible again!” I cried. The same static shock tingled through my body, and I found myself squinting into my fingers instead of at gawking at Sean’s abs.
There came several heavy footsteps, and then Sean cried, “Crap!”
I peeked out in time to see him trip over his sagging pant legs and fall onto the floor. He struggled to his knees, then grabbed a crumpled shirt lying nearby and pulled it over his chest. “What are you doing here?”
“I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to...”
...see you get naked! came a spritely voice in my mind.
“I wanted to help you,” I finished. “I thought you were still in jail.”
He shook his head, the pink beginning to fade from his cheeks. He got to his feet. “No, they let me out about an hour ago. They said--”
“Umm, Fabry?”
“Yeah?”
I pointed to his still-undone pants, carefully looking at the floor as I did so.
“Crap!” he said again. He turned away to zip-and-button everything.
“So...” I said, filling the awkward silence that followed.
Why was I here again? My thoughts were a little sluggish. Something about jail... And undressing. Or maybe that was an unrelated thought.
Wait, no, it wasn’t. “Are you okay? Did anyone hurt you?” I asked.
“‘Hurt me?’” He tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
From the confusion on his face, it was clear that all my worries about meaty-pawed bikers had been unnecessary. “I... Umm... Police brutality.” I cleared my throat. “Okay, so they let you out. Why did they take you in?”
Sean glanced at his bedroom door, which was open a crack. The sounds of raised voices filtered through, barely audible beyond the hum of the air conditioner. Even so, when Sean noticed me noticing the noises, he blushed all over again and pushed the door shut. “They thought I stole the Aston Martin.” He settled into his computer chair, sighing. “It belongs to some guy in Chicago.”
“What? No way, you said they were made in Europe.”
“They’re made in Europe, but some people have them here. This one belonged to some soap opera star.”
“Oh, gawd.” My stomach tightened with regret. I had just assumed that I would snag a car from the factory, one that no one would miss. “I’m really sorry, Sean. I didn’t think we’d be stealing anything. I mean, not from a person.”
He shrugged. For someone who had spent the day in jail, Sean was surprisingly mellow. “S’okay. It�
�s not like you meant to do it.”
“Yeah, but I should have known something like this would happen. Sometimes my wishes turn out wrong if I don’t give a lot of detail, like what happened in class last Wednesday.”
“Huh?”
“Oh, umm, nothing.” I tried to smile. “Listen, we’ll be more careful next time. We’ll say your next wish needs to come straight from the factory, or wherever.”
“Layla, no offense, but I don’t think I’ll be wishing for another sports car.”
My gut flip-flopped. “You’re not going to wish for world peace, are you? Because I don’t think I’m up for that. I can’t even handle a car, Fabry.”
“No, not world peace.” He smiled. “At least not yet.”
I opened my mouth to ask if he was joking, but the sounds of footsteps approaching made us both freeze. I scrambled off the bed, trying to go for the closet, but not in time for the door to squeak open.
“I wish I were invisible,” I whispered.
Even though I could see through myself, I still ducked down as Sean’s mother (I recognized her from the photos) appeared in the doorway. She squinted at me briefly, pausing at the empty patch of air that may or may not have been a girl just a second before.
She can’t see you, I reminded myself, trying not to flinch under her laser-powered mom gaze.
It took me a moment to notice that, in spite of their alertness, her eyes were red-rimmed and tired. I guessed it made sense, with her only child in jail for most of the day. Guilt jabbed at me again.
“Are you talking to someone?” she asked, glancing around again.
After a pause, Sean shook his head. “No, just myself.”
“Oh, all right.” His mother’s face pinched with confusion, but she continued, “Well, your father is still downstairs...”
Sean squirmed, his eyes darting in my direction. “I know,” was all he said.
“Honey, he pulled a lot of strings to get you out so quickly. If he hadn’t been there to bring up the lack of evidence, you might still be in that cell.”
I bit back a whimper. He had been in a cell! My mind conjured up a vision of Sean in grey-and-black striped pajamas, which would have been funny if everything hadn’t been my fault.
