Eden's Wish

by M. Tara Crowl

  She’d been on a beach once before. On a granting in Jamaica, she’d been summoned by a grizzled old man missing all of his hair and most of his teeth. He’d been using a metal detector to hunt for treasure along a secluded stretch of the coast. She’d been instantly infatuated with the grit of sand beneath her feet’s tender soles and the sound of the ocean’s waves crashing.

  But the man had rattled off his wishes matter-of-factly, with rip-roaring speed. You’d have thought he’d been expecting a genie for years and she’d showed up late for the appointment. She’d been sucked back into the lamp almost before she could memorize the sea’s salty scent. There was no way to know when they might meet again.

  But here it was: their second encounter. Now that she knew, she recognized the ocean’s smell and gentle roar.

  But where on Earth was Mission Beach? She racked her brain.

  As if she’d heard Eden’s unasked question, the girl added, “In San Diego?”

  And then it clicked. “California?”

  “Last time I checked.” The girl laughed.

  By now, almost all of Eden had surfaced. Her eyes, acclimated at last, opened fully. Suddenly her joy was uncontainable. What a lucky place to land!

  “The ocean!” she squealed. The sparkling water rolled with waves. She kicked her feet madly to free her legs. Shielding her eyes, she turned her face skyward. High above, with no ceiling in sight, it was unthinkably, beautifully blue. And nestled grandly in the middle of the sky was that big, gorgeous sun.

  “The sun!” Frantically she brushed sand off her shoulders, arms, and sides. “The beach!”

  She jumped to her feet and turned in a circle ecstatically. Now that her vision was clear, she could see mortals strolling and lounging on brightly colored towels all over it. What a sight!

  They were young and old, petite and enormous, curvy and slim, with a whole range of skin tones and a thousand different colors of hair. Skimpy swimwear exposed the intimate details of their bodies. Eden saw smooth-skinned, round-bellied, tottering toddlers. She saw long-legged women in bikini tops and old men with oversize ears and folds of skin hanging over their waistbands. She was awestruck by the countless ways they were put together.

  Opposite the ocean and past the beach was a boardwalk where mortals moved in a brisk, happy summer rhythm. Rollerbladers and bikers zipped along one side, while mortals in swimwear cruised down the middle on foot.

  Beyond the boardwalk loomed a number of strange structures, stretching high into the sky. She peered at them curiously. The most prominent was an apparatus built of wooden posts topped by a long, sloping track. The track rose high and dipped low, and little cars with no tops climbed to its heights and dropped to its depths. When she squinted, she could see groups of mortals sitting in the little cars. And when she strained, she could hear them screaming as the cars zipped around the track.

  She recognized the apparatus. Xavier had briefed her on it during a unit on mortals’ more puzzling leisure activities. If she remembered correctly, it was called a roller coaster.

  Just then, a tiny creature covered in whitish fur ran up and sniffed at her feet. A bichon frise, Eden realized with glee.

  A woman ran after it. “Sorry!” she said, smiling. “He’s a little overly friendly.”

  “That’s okay!” Eden said. “Can I pet him?” The woman nodded. Eden ran her hand over the dog’s wavy fur, feeling the delicate bones beneath its skin. It panted and beamed at her. Eden was smitten.

  After a moment the dog lost interest and ran on, with the woman chasing after. As she watched where they went, Eden’s eye caught on a man with hair unlike any she’d ever seen. It was aqua blue, and it stood erect in a thin straight line that traveled from the middle of his forehead to the nape of his neck. She was stunned. He was carrying art on top of his head! She had to know how it was done. She raced to where he was spreading his towel.

  “Excuse me!” she said. “How do you make your hair?”

  He cast dull, darkened eyes on her. “How do I make it?” he repeated.

  “It’s lovely,” she said. “Like a sculpture.”

  For some reason he seemed annoyed. “Haven’t you ever seen a ’hawk?”

  “A hawk,” she said to herself. What a strange name for a hairstyle!

  He raised his eyebrows. “Let me ask you something. Who wears a nightgown to the beach?”

  Eden looked down at her ruffly white nightgown. She supposed it wasn’t normal beach attire. And with good reason—it was hot. The sun was beaming down like it had a point to prove. She wiped sweat from her forehead. She could feel rivers of it trailing down her sides and a patch of it spreading on her back.

  She squinted up at the boardwalk. Behind it was a row of shops. Shops sold clothes. She took off running through the sand toward it. Reaching the boardwalk, she weaved through throngs of beachcombers.

  She ducked into a shop where mannequins in the window wore tank tops, shorts, and swimsuits in a rainbow of fluorescent hues. She paused for a moment to bask in the glory of the air-conditioning. She wasn’t used to being hot or cold; in the lamp, the temperature was always just right.

  Perusing the store’s selection of weather-appropriate clothing, she tried to remember what she’d learned about buying things. Amongst all his needless facts and admonitions, it was the sort of practical information Xavier had never covered.

  She examined a white tank top with the word California scrawled in hot pink across the front. She fingered the lightweight cotton longingly, then found the price tag tucked inside: $14.99. Fourteen dollars and ninety-nine cents. She’d never used money, and she certainly didn’t own any. How did one go about getting it, anyway?

  Feeling defeated, she weaved down the boardwalk again. Many of the people she saw were surfers. They were all different ages and types, but each carried a board like it was precious cargo, and kept his or her eyes fixed on the waves forming at the horizon. Watching them, she nearly ran into an athletic-looking, deeply tanned girl moving quickly across her path.

  “You know I don’t eat this crap!” the girl snapped at a young man following closely behind her. She was holding a white paper bag as far as possible from her body between two fingertips, as if it were a rancid dead rat. Reaching a trash can, she flicked it inside and strutted away with the male mortal hot on her heels.

  A scruffy man in a tattered T-shirt appeared and sprang into action. He approached the can, retrieved the bag, and ripped out its contents: a cheeseburger wrapped in grease-soaked yellow paper and a cardboard box of French fries. He devoured it right there next to the garbage, then let out a satisfied puff of air, balled up the bag, and dropped it back in. He noticed Eden watching.

  “Got a problem?” he snarled.

  Baffled, she took a step back. This man needed a genie badly.

  “Someone should teach you some manners,” he said. With a shake of his head, he hobbled down the boardwalk.

  She watched him go with mingled bewilderment and disgust. He’d eaten food out of the garbage! She hadn’t known mortals could stoop so low.

  But then an uneasy thought crossed her mind: the man wouldn’t have taken that food unless he had nothing else to eat. What would prevent her from finding herself in the same position? Where would she find her next meal? This time tomorrow, would she be as desperate as he was?

  Contemplating that, she faced the ocean and leaned on the rail. As she gazed at the glimmering water in the distance, a brilliant idea struck her: why not take a dip in the ocean? It would cool her off, and it was one of the things Xavier had forbidden. That alone was reason enough to try it.

  In fact, she decided, she was going to do every last thing he’d told her not to. And wasn’t this a good place to start?

  Inhaling the gorgeous ocean scent, she felt her adrenaline rising. For the first time, she was going into the water! She took off running, zigzagging around the towels that accented the sand like throw pillows.

  When she reached the threshold, she paused
to savor the sweet suspense. A wave rolled up and splashed her feet, and she gasped at the frigid temperature.

  From her right came a shriek of delight. Someone nearby was having fun! She turned and spotted a man and a woman laughing and splashing each other. She jogged through knee-deep water to them and enthusiastically joined in. But as soon as she did, they stopped abruptly. Giving each other an odd look, they joined hands and walked toward the beach.

  Why had they ended their fun? Eden shrugged and waded out further. She watched her pale feet through the clear, shallow water. She crouched down to let it wash over her whole body.

  She looked out into the distance. The ocean went on forever! Of course she knew the Pacific was enormous—with an area of 63.8 million square miles, it covered one-third of Earth’s total surface area. But memorizing those figures and seeing it stretch across the living room’s big marble globe were nothing like beholding it in person.

  She lowered her face to the surface and opened her lips to taste the chilled, salty water. How could Xavier call the lamp paradise after being exposed to this? Well, maybe he’d never have to leave his paradise again. Wasn’t that what he wanted anyway? As long as she was on Earth, he was trapped in the lamp. Despite all his other lies, he must have told the truth about that. Otherwise, she was sure he would already have climbed out of the sand after her.

  She’d left the lamp buried where she’d surfaced, which meant she was farther away from it than ever before. Xavier would lose his mind if he knew. The thought gave her a spark of satisfaction. Anyway, if a mortal happened to find it, she didn’t think they’d be able to summon her, since she was already out in the world. And it wasn’t like she was going to make a request for reentry.

  As her mind wandered she waded deeper into the sea—so deep that before she knew it, she was standing on her tiptoes to keep her nose above water. The waves were coming more rapidly now, and the tug of the tide was stronger than she’d expected. Maybe, she thought uneasily, she should have learned to swim before venturing out this far.

  It wasn’t that she was frightened, but as the waves continued to assail her, she dearly wished for a moment to catch her breath.

  Just as she’d resolved to retreat to shallower water, a wave crashed over her head. She emerged gasping for air and flapping her arms madly to stay afloat. Her feet could no longer find the ground. For the first time she understood the ocean’s might, and she was afraid.

  And then the big one hit.

  Several things happened at once. Eden’s mouth, throat, nose, and lungs filled with briny salt water that burned her eyes and nostrils with fiery fury. She was knocked back so roughly she lost all sense of direction, of orientation, of what was happening and where and why and how. She was spinning, twisting, upside down. Was that the ground scraping against her shoulder? She kicked madly and waved her arms desperately, hardly knowing for what she was reaching.

  All she could be sure of, with the painful certainty of enlightenment come too late, was that Xavier had lied about one more thing. She wasn’t really immortal. Because here, now, in the middle of the ocean, she was dying.

  Of course, she didn’t actually die. For one thing, she couldn’t. But also, she was saved.

  As she flailed and gasped, an arm encircled her waist and pulled her to the surface. The first gulp of air was like a knife to her chest, and the struggle didn’t end as she was towed to shore through violent, unforgiving waves.

  At last she and her savior reached dry land. He laid her flat on her back on the sand. Gagging, she coughed up a foul mouthful of water. Tears streamed from her eyes; her hands shook; her heart thumped painfully. Desperately she pushed up her sleeve and reached for her bracelet. When she felt its familiar shape, relief rushed over her.

  Finally she staggered to her feet on legs as weak as a foal’s. Before her was a crowd of gaping onlookers. As she gazed at them, they burst into cheers. With a jolt of shock, it hit her that they’d gathered to watch her rescue.

  As her terror receded and the pain faded away, she became indignant. Attention was the last thing she needed. She turned to see who had dragged her into the limelight.

  Somehow he looked familiar, though it was nearly impossible that they’d met before. He wasn’t much older than Eden, but he stood several inches taller. He wore black swim trunks printed with a logo in green and blue. The sun had browned his skin to an even tan and sprinkled freckles across his face. His hair was dark and shaggy, with bangs that he tossed to the side with a whip of his head.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I’m…fine,” she said, her irritation fading. The observers were starting to disperse, but one of them came forward to stand beside him. It was the girl who’d kicked her in the head—the first mortal she’d seen.

  “Are you sure?” the girl asked. She set her sunglasses on top of her head. “You were under for a really long time.” She turned to the boy. “The lifeguards at this beach are worthless.” And at once Eden realized why he looked so familiar: the two of them were nearly identical. The boy was slightly taller, but their swimmers’ bodies, tan skin, freckles, and shiny straight chestnut hair were the same.

  “You’re twins!” she said.

  The boy laughed. “Not quite. I’m a year older.”

  “But people think that all the time,” the girl said.

  The boy stuck out his hand. “I’m Tyler Rockwell. And this is my sister, Sasha.”

  It took Eden a moment to remember that handshakes were standard etiquette for American mortals when they met one another. She’d learned about them, but hadn’t had an occasion to perform one. She reached out and took the hand in her own, then gave it a good firm shake. She was pretty sure that was how it was meant to go.

  “I’m Eden,” she said.

  “Like the garden.” Tyler smiled.

  “Is that where you’re from? The beginning of time?” Sasha smirked. “I mean, you’re obviously not from around here. First you’re buried in the sand, then you’re drowning in the ocean.”

  “I just arrived,” said Eden breathlessly.

  “No kidding. You didn’t exactly dress for the weather, did you?”

  She looked down at her nightgown, now heavy with ocean water and hanging off her frame.

  “Where are you from?” Tyler asked.

  Eden frowned, wondering how to answer. “Sweden,” she said at last.

  “Eden from Sweden,” Sasha said. “O-kay. Is this normal beach attire there?”

  Tyler smacked her thigh with the back of his hand. “What?” she said. “I mean, come on!”

  “Did the airline lose your luggage?” Tyler asked. “I’ve heard that happens all the time.”

  “Yeah,” Eden agreed gratefully. “Can you believe it?”

  Tyler eyed his sister. “Sasha,” he said, “don’t you always bring an extra swimsuit?”

  Sasha looked at him disbelievingly. “Tyler! We don’t even know her.”

  He raised his eyebrows at her. Eden’s heart raced at the thought of changing out of her nightgown.

  “Fine!” Sasha rolled her eyes and started digging in the tropical-print beach bag on her shoulder. She came up with a fistful of blue fabric and pushed it toward Eden.

  “Thank you,” Eden breathed. She’d never meant the words more.

  Changing in the cramped stall of the beach restroom would have been difficult even if Eden knew how to put on a bikini, but she’d never had a reason to wear one before. Eventually she figured out which piece of flimsy fabric went where and which strings to tie in order to hold it all together.

  “So. Have you moved here, or are you visiting?” Sasha asked from the other side of the bathroom stall’s door.

  Eden blinked. She was going to have to develop her alibi. For now, best to keep things vague. “I’ll be here for a while,” she said.

  “Where are your parents? You didn’t come here by yourself, did you?”

  Eden stepped out of the stall and gasped at her reflection in
the dim, smudged mirror. Instinctively she covered her chest and exposed stomach with her hands. She was nearly naked! She’d never worn so little clothing outside her bedroom before.

  “What’s wrong?” Sasha asked. “Looks like it fits.”

  This was what mortals did, Eden reminded herself. She was living like them now.

  “If you want, you can put this on over.” Sasha handed her a sheer cotton dress that was really just a long tank top. Eden felt much more comfortable with it on.

  “Um…” Sasha was looking doubtfully at the wet nightgown balled up in Eden’s hand. “Do you want to lay that out to dry?”

  “Are you kidding? No.” Eden tossed it into the garbage can. No matter what came to pass, she could never wear it again. “Worst outfit choice of my life.”

  Sasha laughed. “Ever since you climbed out of the sand, I’ve been wondering what in the world you were thinking when you got dressed this morning.”

  “Trust me, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  Tyler was waiting just outside the restrooms, with two surfboards leaning against the wall next to him. Another boy was with him. He was husky, with curly red hair and mischief in his eyes. “There you are!” Tyler said, grinning at Sasha. “We’re starving. Let’s go get burritos!”

  “You’re leaving?” Eden asked Sasha.

  “Yeah, we still haven’t had lunch.”

  The redheaded boy looked at Eden. “Dude. You’re the girl who almost drowned? That was gnarly.”

  “I can get this stuff back from you some other time,” Sasha said. She pulled out a slim black device and touched some of the images displayed on the screen, then handed it over. “Put in your number.” Eden was mystified for a moment, but then she realized: a cell phone. She’d learned about them in the lamp—and even seen a few on grantings—but there had never been an opportunity to use one. She stared at it dazedly.

  “Um, I don’t—”

  “Oh! Your Swedish phone probably doesn’t work here, right? Unless you have international roaming.”

  “I—”