by Carol Riggs
We hike back to the meadow. I lift my sore arms and conjure a smooth blanket over the grass. A petite but hearty meal assembles before us: fried chicken, potato salad, red grapes, and chocolate chip cookies. Red cloth napkins spring into existence. Two shiny cans of Coke form from Nathan’s mind, perched like matching bookends by the food.
“No Coke for me, please,” I say. “It’s too explosive. You may drink both of those.”
Nathan chuckles. “It’s ‘explosive.’ All righty. What do you want to drink instead?”
I ponder my own wishes, and the effort feels stiff. “I think I’d like pomegranate and kiwi juice, please.” One of my old masters blended those fruits, and it was delicious when she gave me a glassful. I toss Nathan an appreciative glance. He’s so attentive to my feelings and generous with his wishes.
He’s treating me like a human. One he cares about.
My eyes grow watery again, and I force my mind to create my drink. It comes in a clear bottle, sparkling like liquid rubies in the sun. We sit cross-legged to eat. A portly bumblebee buzzes around our small feast like an inquisitive old gentleman.
Nathan wipes chicken grease from his mouth. “This is awesome. Food tastes so much better when you eat it outdoors.”
“It does, indeed.” I shrink from the thought that this could be our last meal together. Trying not to think about such things, I nibble on a savory chicken leg, spoon potato salad into my mouth, and sip my juice. The meadow is alive with a peaceful motion beyond our blanket, complete with grasses nodding, ants crawling, and grasshoppers leaping.
“Too bad Cherie and Beagley aren’t here,” Nathan says, slurping his Coke.
“Or just Cherie here with you. It would make a nice ‘date,’ as you say.” The words taste unpleasant in my mouth. “What will you tell them when I’m gone?”
Nathan shrugs. “That you moved to Florida or somewhere. Or you could see them one last time tomorrow and tell them in person.”
“Beagley will be disappointed, I imagine.”
“Yeah.” Nathan blasts out a sigh and hurls his chicken bone into the meadow grasses. “I’m not gonna lie. I’ll miss you, too.”
“And I, you,” I say, my words so faint I’m surprised he hears me.
Leaning back onto his elbows, he stares off into the trees. “Funny how well you can get to know someone after one week. Some personalities mesh easily. Natural blends.”
How curious. He says this even though I’m a genie, so different from him. “You’re one of my most favorite masters. Perhaps the favorite.”
His face grows pinkish. “I wonder why that is.”
“You’re friendly and kind, among other things. Most of my masters are greedy, selfish, and insufferable. The contrast is immense. Having wishes fulfilled often brings out the worst in human beings.”
“I’m sure it does.” He scratches his chin. “Um, so you don’t think I’m boring?”
“I don’t see why you’d ask that.”
He keeps studying the trees. “Well, a girl I went out with last year said I was so nice I was mind-numbingly boring. At least that was her excuse when she broke up with me.”
I give a soft snort. What a silly, insensitive girl. Kindness and politeness are never boring to be around. “She’s wrong. It’s remarkable how enjoyable and invigorating you are to spend time with.”
“Thanks. Unless you’re just saying that because I’m your master.”
“Impossible. The law of my bottle prohibits me from lying to you.”
A smile sneaks across his face. “That’s handy. Where will you and Karim go, anyway, when you leave?”
“I suppose to his estate in Arabia, near Riyadh. He says the estate was renovated eighty years ago after Faruq proved his ‘lineage.’ Faruq stays there when they’re not searching for me.”
“That’s really far away.”
That reminder causes a leaden feeling in my gut. I’d rather not discuss this. “What will your life be like…will you finish school and go to this college place you speak of?”
“Yep. I want to be a psychologist or a counselor someday. People will sit in my office and tell me their problems, and I’ll help them see how they can improve their lives. We human beings are fascinating. Our behavior, what makes us tick.”
“I see.” His description of the occupation sounds appropriate for him, despite the peculiarity of people who “tick.”
We lapse into a comfortable silence. After a while of listening to birds chirp and bees hum, I disintegrate the plates, napkins, and the chicken bones. I study Nathan’s handsome but pale-skinned profile. I wonder what will happen between him and Cherie after I’m gone, whether she’ll decide to show him she cares for him and think of him in a less brotherly way.
I wonder if she’ll ever kiss him.
The thought rises up like a bad odor, contaminating the serenity of the meadow. How disheartening and unfair. Perhaps it feels more stark because I’ll never be able to touch or kiss Karim. Yes, I’m sure that must be why. Not only will I not be able to embrace Karim, I’ll be forced to endure Faruq’s cruelty and chastisements forever. Unless I can come up with a clever escape plan.
Oh, dear. Now that I think of it, I don’t even have a guarantee that Faruq will let me see Karim after I relinquish my bottle. All we have is his word.
A groan escapes my lips, and Nathan looks over.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m having trouble not thinking of Monday, as well as the rest of my life.”
“Yeah.” He gives a loud exhale, stands, and points to a nearby mountain. “Come on. Let’s start hiking to the top so we’ll be ready to stargaze when the sun sets.”
I follow him, not simply because he desires it, but because it sounds like an idea that might distract our heavy hearts. His mood is as bogged down as mine, gray as the weather we left in Bandon.
We hike most of the afternoon. The scenery soothes me with its beauty. By the time we reach a flat outcropping high on the mountaintop, we’re more than ready to sit and rest. There are higher peaks beyond us, frosted with snow. We finish eating a steaming hot pizza as the sun lowers into brilliant pools of red and gold. Nathan edges closer to me, but not too close. The horizon flames and celebrates for seven glorious minutes.
The sun’s colors depart. Dark blue swallows the remaining light in the sky, until it’s gone.
“That was amazing,” Nathan says. “Think of it. All this majestic stuff and no one sees it except birds and deer and mountain critters.”
“That is a shame.”
The night air cools in short order. I magically fetch our Tigers jackets, and wool blankets to cover our legs and feet. Stars appear, winking at us like shy children. They populate the sky. I’m not sure if we’re an audience watching them, or if they’re an audience watching us.
Nathan’s phone jangles out its tiny, booming melody. When he fishes it from his pocket, its window lights up. “Awesome—I love my cell coverage. Text from Beagley.” He tips it to show me.
Where r u? it reads. U & Adeelah wanna hang w/ Cherie & me 2morrow @ the teen center, 1 pm?
I suppress a sigh. “I guess we should, to tell them I’m leaving. He won’t try to give me a farewell embrace, will he?”
“Might be hard to avoid.” Nathan taps a message back, and I read it over his arm. Yes if u don’t touch or hug her. Value ur KNUCKLES, dude.
I find myself chuckling. “I hope that helps.”
“It’d better.”
He pockets his phone. Neither of us stirs. I think of Cherie’s charming smile and soft blond hair, her approachable manner. She’s nice, if I’m honest in my assessment of her. If Nathan has to be with someone, it might as well be Cherie. They’re both kind and gentle souls. And Beagley, in his own way, is appealing despite his intense and persistent habits. I’m undecided about his hair, however. That feature is bizarre.
“Nathan, why is Beagley’s hair green? I assume he wasn’t born with it that way.”
“
Nope. He dyed it for his thirteenth birthday to see if his mom would notice. She’s always busy jetting off to executive meetings and sales conferences, and even when she’s home her brain is elsewhere. He’s lucky if she says two sentences to him all day. Since he knew she was going to be around for his birthday, I helped him dye his hair. And cripes, what a gigantic party. A live indie-rock band, fancy appetizers served next to their indoor pool, and a group of mimes running around mimicking everyone. It was a blast.”
“Did she notice his greenness?”
“Not at first. The party was half over when he came over so I could take pics of them together. After I snapped the first one, she got all puzzled and said, ‘Jared, dear. Did you spill something on your hair?’ and Beagley said, ‘Yes, Mom, I did. Your observation skills are extraordinarily keen today.’ He had the most triumphant look on his face in the next photo. The green hair became his trademark after that.”
“How intriguing.” In contrast, Omaa noticed everything I did, whether I wanted her to or not. Wring out that rag a little more, Adeelah. Keep stirring those onions so they won’t burn, Adeelah. Stop your mind-wandering and go fetch your sister, Adeelah. I had constant attention from her. It was Abbi I struggled to have notice me beyond the basic sharing of meals and my family’s ritual evening hugs. He attended to tent-making duties or my brothers instead. It was fortunate my brother Jamaal was so eager for my company. It lessened the sting.
Nathan and I fall into a comfortable silence again. I perceive he’s as reluctant as I am to end the evening. An owl hoots somewhere down the mountainside, a soft and ghostly sound. Faint light shines from the stars and a thick sliver of moon. The wind blows a cool breeze that’s scented with pine and tranquility.
Nathan sighs. “Life sure doesn’t turn out like you want it to sometimes.”
“How would you want it?”
His mood grows more dense. Although it’s too dark to see, I have a suspicion his face is tinged with pink. He starts to speak, and stops. All that comes out is a mangled little noise.
“I assume you’d prefer to have Cherie up here with you to watch the stars,” I say.
“That’s not…what I meant. I have a feeling Cherie’s a lost cause.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I suspect it. A lot.”
“She objected strongly when she saw us dancing to your music. That means she’s jealous, and she cares.”
He snorts. “Insane. I go out on a date with her the night before, to a movie she’s dying to see, and she’s worried about you and me listening to one stupid song together.”
In true male fashion, he’s not comprehending the situation. Or else he doesn’t want to admit it. “Nathan. While you were out with her, did you stand incredibly close to her or stare into her eyes while bewitching music played? Because you did with me. Did your eyes go glittery when you looked at her? Did it feel like time stopped, and the world had only two people in it right then? Because I’m sure that’s what it looked like was happening between us when Cherie walked into the shop.”
I feel his astonished gaze on the side of my face, and twist toward him. We’re less than a hand’s span away from each other. So close…
“Um, you felt that time-stopping part, too?” he asks.
Ah, dung beetles. Disclosing the level of my own attraction wasn’t my intent. I can’t be fond of him to that degree. “I attribute that to the spell of the music. It was quite powerful.”
“But you felt it.” Even in the near-darkness, I see his mouth. It’s smiling.
“I’m promised to Karim, honor-bound to his love. What I felt is inconsequential.” My heart is thumping like the hooves of a runaway horse. I’m not smiling. “And don’t forget, you have an affection for Cherie.”
“Which isn’t worth anything if it’s not mutual. I bet we’ll stay good friends for the rest of our lives. Which isn’t a bad thing, actually. I could go for that.”
“You just need to give her more time.”
“If Cherie saw all those things about us in the shop, I’ve wrecked my chances.”
I open my mouth to object, but recall her expression. Her stiff body posture. Her shock and resentment. How she flounced out of the shop with Beagley. “She may come to realize it didn’t mean anything serious.” The words sound unconvincing even to my own ears.
“Yeah, maybe.” His words aren’t any more believable.
I turn away from him and the night fills the space between us.
After another minute, he clears his throat. “I wasn’t—uh, my eyes weren’t glittery, were they?”
“They most certainly were.” One corner of my mouth quirks up, and I force it back down. “I don’t see why you don’t behave like that with Cherie. Words aren’t everything. Unspoken messages can speak much louder.”
The blanket beside me wiggles as he shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe I’m too nervous. Or maybe I don’t feel it as strongly. I guess I could try to act more romantic around her and see what happens.”
“It shouldn’t be an effort you have to muster up.”
“You’re right. It totally shouldn’t.” His words are firm. He stands and sheds his blanket. “Well, it’s late. I guess we should get back to rainy old Bandon. Mom’s okay with me being out late, but she feels better if I’m home before midnight.”
“As you wish.” My arms throb, stiff and sore as I lift them to dissolve our blankets. “Here we go, back to reality.”
Nathan says nothing, although he gives a muffled sigh.
I visualize the front seats of the Mustang. The black interior, the leather seat covers. We plunge like two stones into the void of inner space. I concentrate, but it’s as if I’m aiming at a fuzzy target. A strange wobbliness plagues my course. Everything’s blurry. Indistinct. The gravel driveway is smeared and Ted’s house is faded almost beyond recognition. I lug us toward the hazy doors and windows of the Mustang. A rubbery resistance blocks me. I wrestle against it, striving to drag us closer. We’re so heavy. My arms and legs quake. Pain burns through my veins like lightning bolts. I strain to hold it all together.
It’s no use. Our transfer loosens, sputters, and stalls.
I cry out. Nathan and I fall, tumbling into the darkness of an unknown destination.
Chapter 16
The night devours us, pitch-black and clammy as we descend into its throat. I crash hard, landing on an unforgiving surface. A shocking pain rips into one of my knees. Nathan’s body thuds as he lands next to me. He yells and swears.
The world spins as I lift my head. All is darkness. Where are we? I can only tell we’re lying on a hard surface, with the smell of tar and dusty rocks around us. I squint. There appears to be a shallow trench to our left, and some kind of weedy grasses beyond that. A disconcerting rumble rattles the air like the drone of enormous insects. I’m panting like I’ve run miles.
Nathan shifts next to me with a scraping sound. He moans. “That hurt. Nothing broken I don’t think, but I’ll have a ton of bruises. I assume you’re okay with your protective features. What’s the deal—did we fall down the mountain?”
“I don’t think so.” My voice is weak, croaky. “My guess is we’ve landed somewhere in between the mountaintop and Bandon.”
“How in the blazes did that happen?”
I prop myself up on one elbow, and frown as the rumble in the air increases to a roar. A half-mile straight ahead of us, a sudden light blooms, illuminating the entire curve of a hill. “We must be near a road—”
Two glaring yellow lights crest the hill, and a huge metal beast bears down on us. Curses—we’re on a road.
“Roll to the side!” I try to shove the shadowy shape of Nathan’s body toward the ditch, but my genie hands sink into his back. He rolls on his own, flailing. I follow him. Grit and gravel fly. We barely clear the road as a monstrous truck veers and thunders past, its wind blasting my clothing flat against me. I squeeze my eyes closed. Debris peppers my face.
The roaring fades to an angry v
ibrating hum.
“Crap,” Nathan says, wheezing. “Crap. That was a semi. We almost got run over by a semi. I’m not even sure the guy saw us.”
“A ‘semi’ is a truck of some kind?”
“Yes. A bread truck, in this case.” His voice is tinged with hysteria. “Probably on its way to deliver early morning Wonder Bread to a nearby supermarket.”
I have no time to analyze his babbling. I’m too busy trying to slow my breathing. Curse it all! That truck could’ve killed Nathan. And even though the roaring metal beast would’ve gone right through me, I’m certain it would’ve thrashed me a thousand times worse than Rehema’s two bullets.
Flipping the rope of my braid over my shoulder, I stagger back onto the road’s edge. The whirring of crickets surrounds me. We’re stranded in near-darkness. I can barely see the shallow ditch, vague scruffy weeds, and the dim outline of Nathan’s body as he eases to his feet.
At least it’s not raining.
I take a step, and wince. “Ouch. My knee hurts.”
Nathan rustles around. A small, bright light snaps into existence, coming from his phone. “Let’s see.”
I face him and examine the lit-up area of my jeans. There’s a ragged hole ripped across one leg, with a bright crimson area beading up inside it. Blood.
On my skin. On my leg.
I’m not sure I’m really seeing this. I haven’t bled for close to a thousand years.
“You’re hurt,” Nathan says. “I didn’t know genies could bleed.”
“They can’t.” The words come out more sharply than I intend. Something’s wrong with me. Seriously wrong. Along with post-conjuring aches, now my transfer has half-failed and I’ve been injured by falling. A shudder overwhelms me, head to toes. Maybe the truck would’ve done more lasting damage than I thought.
Do generated genies wear out?
Am I dying?
Nathan climbs from the ditch and extinguishes his light. “It’s my fault. You’ve been out of your bottle and uncharged all day.”
