by Rose David
“Who cares, Mom? You could’ve done all of that,” said Sean. “We didn’t need him.”
“They wouldn’t have listened to me. Not yet, anyway. You know that.”
“Whatever,” Sean mumbled, looking down at his lap.
“Sweetie, please. You didn’t say a word to him in the car. At least tell him goodbye.”
Fatigue flared in his mother’s voice, and Sean looked up. As their eyes met, I looked away, feeling another surge of gratitude at being invisible.
After a long moment, Sean sighed and told her, “Fine, I’ll come down. Just give me a minute, okay?”
His mother nodded and stepped back into the hallway, clicking the door shut.
Sean waited until her footsteps receded before glancing around. “Layla? Are you still here?”
“Yes.”
“Could you stop being invisible now?” He crossed his arms over his chest, annoyance sharpening his features. “I feel like I’m talking to a ghost.”
“I wish I were visible again,” I said quietly.
But now that Sean could see me again, he wouldn’t look me in the face. “Listen, I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow... Or something.” He trudged to the door, his steps heavy. “Goodnight, I guess.”
I bit my lip. “’Night.”
As Sean disappeared into the hallway, I wished myself home.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The next school day came and went without any appearances from Sean, which only made the rumors fly faster. Most people agreed that he had been shipped off to federal prison, and would probably show up in a few months with an arm-full of prison tats and some creepy scars.
As the gossip swirled in Sean’s absence, I looked forward to the end of the school day with even more zest than usual. I knew I couldn’t tell people the truth--that I had accidentally conjured up a stolen car and, oh by the way, I was a genie. Still, it was hard to keep myself quiet as my classmates’ gleefully described Sean’s supposed love of grand theft auto, including a crime spree last weekend involving two stolen Hummers.
Once I was back home, though, I found that my annoyance hadn’t completely disappeared. “It’s like they want him to get in trouble,” I said, loading the DVD player with a new indie movie. “He’s friends with like, a million people, but nobody stuck up for him today.”
Natalie mumbled something incoherent through a mouthful of popcorn.
I flopped onto my living room sofa, sighing. “Don’t you think it’s unfair? Like, talking about someone all day when they’re not even there to defend themselves?”
“Well...” Nat took a moment to chew and swallow. “He did kind of steal that car.”
“Sean Fabry did not steal the Aston Martin!” I burst out. “It belonged to some guy in Chicago, and suddenly it showed up in his garage. Sean didn’t steal anything.” I couldn’t believe even someone as nice as Natalie would just assume Sean was guilty before hearing the real story.
“Layla,” Natalie said slowly, as if to a child, “that doesn’t make any sense. Do you think that someone magically beamed the car here from Chicago?”
“Maybe,” I mumbled.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Listen, they wouldn’t have let him out last night if he was guilty. The bail would’ve been insane.”
“Wait, he’s out of jail? Where did you hear this?”
Oops. I wasn’t supposed to know about that. Quickly, I shook my head. “I don’t remember. That girl with the miniskirts, I think.”
“Hey, everything okay in here?” asked Dad, frowning at us from the doorway of the kitchen. “I heard shouting.”
“I wasn’t shouting,” I said.
“Layla, I could hear you from the other room.”
“Gawd,” I sighed, “it’s nothing, okay?”
Natalie pinned on a sweet smile. “It’s cool, Mr. Grubman. We were just talking about current events.”
He raised his eyebrows. “News stories? With Layla?”
I clucked in protest. Like it was so funny that I might care about current issues? Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad.
“Well,” he glanced at the TV, grimacing at a distinctly turd-like close-up shot of modeling clay, “have... fun with your movie.” He wandered back into the kitchen, most likely to raid the fridge pre-dinner.
“No offense, but you seem really freaked out about this,” Nat said.
“Well, I am. I mean, you think it’s unfair, don’t you?”
She nodded, though her face stayed annoyingly smooth.
“Natalie! You don’t even care,” I said. “Aren’t you supposed to be in love with this guy?”
“Yes. I mean, I guess.” She shrugged. “You can’t stop people from gossiping. It’s human nature. Soon, he’ll come back to school and people will realize everything’s back to normal. Just give it a few days.”
I sighed. She was right, of course. There was no reason to get worked up, especially since it would all blow over pretty soon. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to go off on you like that.”
Nat chuckled. “Yeah, that was pretty unexpected. It’s all right, though. Let’s forget about it.”
That sounded good to me. We both focused on the movie, falling into a comfortable silence as the loose plot played out before us. As far as I could tell, the story was about a weird girl who spoke in a monotone. She occasionally made out with a hot, popular guy who really looked more like a forty-year-old math teacher. I figured the movie was supposed to be quirky, since they were all wearing horrendous outfits from the nineties.
Seriously. Between the acid-washed everything and the high-wasted jeans, this was not a flattering decade for anyone who wasn’t shaped like a tiny stick insect. Thank God I had avoided mirrors while wearing those Mom Jeans last week.
Of course, if some stupid magazine decided that jean jackets and those scrunchy hair-tie things were back in style, I knew there would be plenty of girls showing up in school with them. I imagined Diana Bukowski with crimped hair and big earrings, posing in a mini-jeans-skirt. Annoyingly, she still looked really pretty.
I was about to ask Natalie if she thought I would be able to pull off big hair and neon leggings when we heard a knock at the front door.
Nat paused the movie. “Did you order a pizza?”
I shook my head and stood. “Probably some fund-raiser kid selling candy.”
“Ooh, chocolate,” Nat moaned in her Homer Simpson voice. “See if they have something with peanut butter.”
I still had a few bucks in my pocket from lunch, so I hoped the kid had some Crunch Bars in their backpack. It would all go to a good cause, so I planned on buying more than I needed. Who says I’m not interested in civic matters?
“Hi,” I said, opening the door. “Do you have peanut butter cups or--”
“I don’t have any with me,” Sean said, a smile threatening his lips as he stood on my front porch, “but I guess I could run to the drug store and come back.”
I blinked in surprise. “Sorry, I thought--Umm, never mind.” I tilted my head. “What are you doing here, Fabry?”
He squirmed. “Yeah, I know. It’s kind of a stalker thing to do, huh?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been texting you all day. Is your phone off or something?”
I fished my cell out of my back pocket and squinted at the screen. “No new messages,” I said.
Sean’s face puckered. “I think I’ve been text messaging the wrong number.” He took out his phone and read a number back to me.
“Sorry, not mine.”
“Heh. All day, I’ve been telling someone that I’m ready to have my next wish granted.”
I smiled. “Sounds hot.”
We both laughed. I guess should have been more upset--confidentiality and all that--but it was too funny. Whoever was getting the texts had probably ignored them, anyway.
“Is someone there?” Nat asked.
Oh, right. I was busy watching a movie with Natalie, my best
friend who as in love with Sean Fabry. You know, that guy who just happened to be on my front porch, wanting to talk about wishes. Clearly this situation would take some special maneuvering.
I turned to Natalie, sighing. I was surprised at how easily the lie bubbled to my lips as I said, “Sorry, can you excuse me for a second? Sean and I working on a project together in Public Speaking.”
From the doorway, Sean gave Nat a friendly little wave. In return, Natalie raised a small, careful hand even as her mouth gaped open.
I hit the PLAY button on the remote control, freeing the frozen movie. “Don’t worry about me, Nat. I’ll be back in two seconds. Just tell me what happens, okay?” Not waiting for a reply, I stepped onto the front porch and closed the door behind me.
“What’s up?” I asked Sean.
“Okay, new wish.” He handed me a folded-up piece of paper. “I want you to look at it first just to make sure you can do it, but I think this one’s better than the car.”
I skimmed Sean’s oddly neat handwriting, feeling his eyes idling on my face. For some reason, my cheeks felt all tingly, but maybe that was just the last of the late-afternoon sunshine soaking in. After a minute, I looked up from his page-long wish and asked, “You want me to get your parents back together?”
“Sort of. I mean there’s more to it than that. This is more specific, right?”
“Yeah. Maybe.” I bit my lip. “I don’t think I can get people to fall in love, though. They sort of have to like each other already, I think.”
To my relief, Sean’s face didn’t fall into a pout. “That’s cool. They still love each other. I mean, I think they do. I’m pretty sure.”
“That’s a start, I guess.” I slipped the paper into my pocket. “I have to go, but I’ll look at it some more tonight. We can talk about it later, okay?”
“Great.” He rested his fingers on my arm for a quick second, then changed his mind and crammed his hand into his pocket. He looked down at his shoes as he mumbled, “See you later.”
Why did the skin on my arm suddenly feel so weird? And why did I like that?
I didn’t have time to give it much thought, because suddenly, Sean was bouncing back to his car, his steps a little quicker than usual. I thought he drove away faster than necessary, too.
Shaking my head, I stepped back inside. I didn’t have time to worry about what Sean was or wasn’t thinking--I was supposed to be having a fun movie night with my best friend.
Natalie handed over the popcorn bowl as I sat next to her. “Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. He was absent today, so he wanted to find out what we did in class.”
“Oh, all right.” Questions lingered on Nat’s face, but she didn’t share them. Whatever they were, I wasn’t too keen to answer, either.
We stayed quiet for the rest of the movie, which got more boring as the story wore on. My mind wandered to the folded-up note in my pocket. So Sean wanted his parents back together. I really couldn’t blame him, not after seeing those smiling photographs. If that was how things used to be, then why not try to get it back? At least he couldn’t get arrested for this wish. That was a nice bonus.
Natalie’s mom picked her up at around eight-thirty. I waved from the porch as their little car chugged down the street, then went back inside. I was halfway upstairs to my bedroom when I heard my father call:
“Layla? Can I talk to you for a second?”
I dragged my feet downstairs, my palms already sprouting drops of cold sweat. I don’t mind talking with my parents, but something about this made my Spidey Sense tingle. There was no way Dad could have heard Sean and me talking about his second wish, was there?
I found Dad in the home office, sitting at the computer. “So, hey,” I said, trying to sound relaxed. “What’s up, Popsicle?”
Yeah, I busted out the old nickname. Did I have any shame at all?
“I was thinking we haven’t talked in a while, just you and me,” he said. “How you doing, kid?”
I sat in the big, overstuffed chair by the bookshelves. Shrugging, I gave him the usual teenage answer. “Good.”
“You making sure your ring’s safe?”
“Uh, yeah.” Guilt twitched at the back of my throat, threatening to creep into my voice. I spoke louder than I should have as I added, “Dad, come on, what do you think I am? Some kind of idiot?”
My tone was enough to make him frown, which was better than what he would have done if I’d told him where my ring really was. Still, I backed off. “Sorry about that,” I said. “It’s been a really weird day.”
“I see. Are you and Natalie not getting along?” Dad said.
“Of course we’re getting along. We’re not like, fighting or anything. We were just talking.”
“About current events,” he said.
“Yes.” I squirmed. “What’s going on, Dad?”
“A father can’t just want to talk to his daughter?”
Despite my nerves, one corner of my mouth curled up. “Would you like your Cosby sweater?”
He chuckled. “Maybe later. I just wanted to ask about your guest today.”
“You mean Natalie?” I shook my head. “We’re fine, really.”
“Your other guest. That was that Sean kid, wasn’t it?”
Without thinking, I answered, “Yeah, Sean Fabry.” As the words bounced out of my mouth, I tamped down a groan. Not like I would have lied or anything, but had I needed to sound so...?
Ugh, I couldn’t even think of the right word. Whatever it was, I didn’t like it.
Dad’s eyebrows lifted even higher. “Right. He was your study partner a few days ago, wasn’t he?”
“I guess so. I mean, yeah, he was.”
“And he’s, what, a year older than you?” Dad said.
“Uh-huh. Why do you ask?” But then understanding hit me like a sock in the stomach, and I shook my head in disbelief. “You think he’s my boyfriend, don’t you?”
This really should have horrified me, but I guess some part of me understood immediately that it would be easier for my parents to think of Sean as my boyfriend, instead of a guy who had stolen my ring. Of course, either way he stood a good chance of getting shot by my father if things went south.
“Is there some reason why I shouldn’t think that?” said Dad.
“What? No, that’s not... I just mean that he’s cool, I guess.” I shrugged. “I don’t know if we’re officially going out, though.”
“Well, let’s just say you’re friendly with each other, how about that?”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Sure.” Dad crossed his arms. “So, what’s this I’ve heard about him stealing a car, Layla?”
My mouth fell open. Had everyone heard that rumor? “Dad, Sean didn’t steal anything.”
Like a good lawyer, he caught the nuance in my tone. “And what does that mean?”
Crap. “It was some kind of freaky coincidence, I guess. The car belonged to some guy in Chicago, and then somebody stole it and left it in Sean’s driveway.” Somebody named Layla, but I didn’t think that part was vital.
Dad’s forehead creased. “Why would anyone do that? You don’t just abandon an Aston Martin DB... DB...”
“DBS Volante,” I supplied.
Dad blinked at me, startled.
“What?” I shrugged. “I can’t know a few things about cool cars?”
Especially when I zapped one up and cruised around in it? I thought.
Dad shook his head. “I just didn’t realize you were interested in high-performance vehicles.”
“It’s a recent hobby. I’m... trying to expand my interests,” I said. “Anyway, what if the car thief just decided they couldn’t keep it or something? They would have to dump it somewhere.”
“Like a suburban driveway?”
I couldn’t think of a real argument to this, so I answered Dad’s question with one of my own: “Is it really such a strange place to put a car?”
After a thoughtful mom
ent, Dad nodded. “Okay, fine. So your friend isn’t a car thief. I’ll concede that point...”
I smiled. Maybe this is what Dad felt like when he argued for a client. I had just cleared Sean’s name, and I felt great. Just doing my part to uphold justice, I thought modestly.
“...but your mother and I still want to meet him,” said Dad.
Gulp. “Dad, come on. You can’t be serious.”
“Of course I’m serious. Layla, if you’re going out with this boy--”
“We’re not going out, Dad. It’s just...” I tapered off, letting out a groan. “We’re friends. We just hang out sometimes, that’s all.”
Dad (of course) looked completely unconvinced. “Either way, we want to meet him.”
“Dad, come on. I hang out with Rajesh, too. I’m not dating him.”
“First of all, we’ve seen Rajesh plenty of times. Secondly, you’re almost never alone together, which makes that situation different from the one with Sean.”
I sputtered, willing my brain to find a counterpoint. Did my father just come up with such solid arguments on the fly, or had he typed this out ahead of time?
“If you want to keep hanging around with this boy, your mother and I need to meet him,” said Dad. “No arguments, Layla.”
I snorted. “Yeah, like I can think of any.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
I glanced at my watch. If Sean was late, that was an automatic strike against him from my always-punctual mom. If he didn’t show up on my doorstep within two minutes, looking squeaky clean and pumped full of whole milk, we were done for.
Having Sean over to meet my parents sounded about as fun as a trip to the gynecologist, but it wasn’t like I had a choice. If Mom and Dad didn’t get a face-to-face with him soon, they wouldn’t let me see him at all.
So when Sean finally knocked on the door on Saturday night, I reminded myself that this little meeting was for the best, even if my stomach grumbled in protest.
“I’ll get it,” I said, plodding across the living room.
Mom and Dad sat on the sofa, ostensibly watching television, but really just waiting for my “date” to show up.
