No way, she thought. They’d been nothing like Mr. Rockwell.
But then again, how would she know?
“I guess it was pretty dumb to think an old oil lamp you found on the beach could bring her back. A genie lamp.” Sasha laughed weakly. “What were we thinking?”
Part of Eden felt terribly guilty. And yet, if Sasha and Tyler thought the lamp was an old, unenchanted piece of junk, they wouldn’t try to make any more wishes. Which meant she could stay on Earth indefinitely. Was it wrong to be glad about that?
“It is strange that my foot healed today. I guess it must have been a fluke. Who knows.” Sasha shrugged sadly. “Anyway. We should probably get to bed. We’ve got to be up early in the morning.” She tried to smile. “Your first day of school in America. Are you excited?”
“Yes!” Eden couldn’t restrain herself.
Sasha laughed in disbelief. “You’re a strange girl, you know that?” She shook her head. “I hope no one gives you trouble.”
That night, Eden lay on an inflatable mattress Sasha had extracted from an overstuffed closet. Its shape shifted unreliably and its scratchy sheets were a far cry from the 600 thread count she was used to. But then again, hours earlier she hadn’t even known if she’d be sleeping under a roof tonight. It would do.
She shifted from her back to her stomach, then fluffed her flat pillow and laid her head down again.
She sighed and looked at the time on Sasha’s digital clock: 1:34 A.M. It was strange to spend a night without Xavier’s army of clocks marking the hours as they passed.
What would Xavier and Goldie be doing right now? Were they panicking, thinking of ways to get her back?
It seemed like it was true that only one of them could leave the lamp. That was one thing Xavier hadn’t lied about, at least. Not that it mattered. Eden couldn’t believe how he’d deceived her. Her whole life he’d been taking trips to Earth while she spent hours dreaming of a way there. And Goldie had been in on it, too!
It was a good thing she’d escaped. She wouldn’t have been able to live with them another day. She could never trust them again.
Yes, she concluded, in spite of Earth’s challenges, she was much better off here than in that stuffy lamp. On her first day she’d eaten in a restaurant, swum in the ocean, and made mortal friends. It had been the best day of her life.
A wave of exhaustion hit her. Sure, she had a lot to figure out here on Earth. But so far she was doing just fine. And tomorrow, she’d start school—exactly like a mortal twelve-year-old would. Nothing could be better.
Satisfied, she finally made peace with the air mattress and drifted off to sleep.
Noel was fifteen minutes from heading into court when she received the message from the lamp.
She set aside the documents she’d been reviewing, closed the door of her penthouse corner office, and instructed her assistant to hold her calls. Noel was one of London’s top litigators, but lamp business took precedence over everything. Careers on Earth came and went, but matters of the lamp were eternal.
Most likely, it would be Goldie sharing a new shortbread recipe. And yet, even casual correspondence took priority. She owed everything she was to the lamp and its masters.
She unrolled the parchment. As she watched the message, the blood drained from her face.
As was her nature, she responded immediately by snapping into action. She unlocked a secret drawer in her desk, extracted a cell phone reserved exclusively for lamp affairs, and dialed her best friend.
“Oh my God!” Tabitha exploded when she answered. “Can you believe this? I’m in shock!”
The message must have gone to all loyal alumni. “Pull yourself together,” Noel said tersely. “We have to act quickly and intelligently.”
“An escape from the lamp!” Tabitha marveled. “I never thought I’d see the day. That’s one gutsy little genie.”
Noel had to agree. After granting for mortals like Christopher Columbus and then spending more than five hundred years on Earth, she thought she’d seen it all. But this—this was truly inconceivable. “Tab, I think we’ve got to go to San Diego.”
“I think you’re right. Gosh, it’s sort of exciting, isn’t it?”
“You could say that.” Noel’s phone beeped with an incoming call. “I’ve got Genevieve coming in on the other line.”
“And I’ve got Ivy,” Tabitha said.
“Let’s take them. Call you back.”
In the sitting room of her home in South Africa, Tabitha switched over to Ivy’s call. “Can you believe it?”
“Hardly.” Ivy’s voice always sounded far away, like she was phoning from another planet.
“What do we do?”
“Bola’s got a plan.”
“Of course she does.”
“But we all need to get there—and fast.”
“I’ll book a ticket.” Tabitha paused. “Do you think they know?”
“There’s no telling,” Ivy said.
“Because if they do…”
“Let’s not even think about it.”
They hung up, and Ivy sat in silence for a moment. She looked out toward the Gullfoss waterfall, one of Iceland’s most well-known natural wonders. She’d been at her favorite café, drinking tea and working on a sonnet, when the message arrived from the lamp. Ivy had been living in Iceland for the past twelve years, enjoying the stunning landscape and dabbling in poetry and painting. The news from Xavier and Goldie had been the first interruption in her peaceful life for quite some time.
Ivy’s phone rang. It was Bola. She was taking the lead, as usual.
“Talk to me,” Ivy said. She sipped her tea and listened to the plan.
To Eden, Ms. Celeste Mattris did not look qualified to administer either guidance or counseling. She wore a hot-pink blazer and a matching knee-length skirt. Her rubbery lips were unnaturally puffy, and her eyelashes were unthinkably long. She reeked so strongly of perfume, Eden nearly sneezed when she stepped inside her office. But Tyler had said that as Mission Beach Middle School’s guidance counselor, Ms. Mattris alone had the power to make her an official student. Eden was determined not to jeopardize that. So the next morning, as Ms. Mattris read the note she’d brought in, Eden folded her hands in her lap, breathed through her mouth, and set her mind to getting through the meeting with no complications.
“Eden Johansson?” Ms. Mattris asked, looking up.
“That’s my name.” Eden tried to sound natural.
“So you’ve just moved from Sweden.” Ms. Mattris tapped her fingernails on the surface of her desk. They were extremely long, squared at the ends, and, like her outfit, a plastic-looking pink. Upon closer inspection, Eden saw that three rhinestones adorned the end of each nail.
According to Tyler and Sasha, the school required a number of documents for admission. Without at least a note from her mother, they’d said, she wouldn’t be able to enroll. So that morning at the kitchen table, she’d forged a letter while they told her exactly what to write.
Ms. Mattris blinked in her direction. “It says here that all your documents were lost with your luggage?”
“Yeah. But I’m hoping I’ll get them back soon.”
“They’re very important.”
“I know,” Eden said earnestly. “But I really don’t want to miss the first day of school.”
Ms. Mattris removed her cat’s-eye glasses. “Are you up to speed on math?”
Eden frowned. Xavier was currently covering calculus. She’d learned algebra as a child, before her granting years had started. “I think so,” she said.
Ms. Mattris pouted as she typed on the computer in front of her. In the office was a bookshelf, but unlike the fully stocked shelves in the lamp’s lesson room, not a single book was on it. Instead, it was filled with things Eden assumed must be special tools for the profession of guidance counseling: a number of stuffed animals, a glass display case exhibiting a sparkly tiara nestled in crushed velvet, and several framed photos of a teacup poodle
dressed in various outfits. Each item perplexed her, but the photos were especially puzzling. She hadn’t realized dogs ever wore clothes; she’d been under the impression it was normal for them to walk around naked.
“History.” Ms. Mattris looked at Eden blankly. “You know much about history?”
“Ancient or modern?” Eden asked. “We’ve covered both, of course, but I haven’t brushed up on the Bronze Age or the Iron Age in a few years. I’m a little rusty on the Sumerian Renaissance, the Shang dynasty, the Trojan War—”
“That’s fine.” Ms. Mattris reached into a drawer and pulled out something small and round that looked like chocolate. “You want a brownie bite?” Eden politely declined. Ms. Mattris sighed. “I’m gonna get so fat this year,” she said mournfully before shoving it between her lips.
“Geography,” she said through a chocolaty mouthful. “Well, you lived in Europe, so…” She swallowed and jabbed the keys on her keyboard.
Eden was confused, but said nothing. Sasha and Tyler had coached her to keep as quiet as possible, and she was determined not to mess up. Leaning down, she unzipped the denim backpack Sasha had let her borrow, along with the red pleated skirt, white T-shirt, and brown sandals she was wearing. She slipped her fingers inside the backpack. There, next to a notebook half filled with Tyler’s history notes from last year, was the lamp’s cool metal. Even though she had no desire to go back inside, knowing it was with her was comforting. Somehow, leaving it at the Rockwells’ apartment hadn’t felt right.
“English,” Ms. Mattris said. She placed her glasses back on her nose and squinted through them. “Have you read many books?”
Eden rezipped the backpack and returned her hands to her lap. “Nearly everything regarded as a classic, I think. All the Pulitzer winners, all the Man Booker winners—”
“Fine,” Ms. Mattris said. She’d flipped open a compact and was inspecting herself in its mirror. She patted the pile of bronze-colored curls on top of her head. “Ever written an essay?”
Now Eden was really confused. Was this a trick question? “Yes…”
“Perfect.” Ms. Mattris snapped her compact closed with finality, as if that were the question she’d been leading up to all along. “You’ll fit right in.” She typed a bit more, and the printer behind her spat out a white sheet. Ms. Mattris rolled over to it in her chair and handed it to Eden. “Your schedule.”
“Thank you!” Eden stood up.
“Have a great year!” Ms. Mattris called as she left. Then she said, wistfully: “Seventh grade was my favorite.”
Sasha and Tyler were waiting by the office’s reception desk.
“All good?” Tyler asked.
“Mission Beach Middle has a brand-new student,” Eden answered proudly.
Sasha snatched the schedule from her. “Homeroom, Spanish, World History, Science, Lunch, Math, P.E., English…We’re in all the same classes!”
Eden couldn’t stop smiling. She was officially a student in a school full of mortals!
“Hello, Tyler. Girls,” boomed a voice from above. She tilted her head to see a giant man with a gray-blond crew cut and an unusually wide jaw. “Why are we in the office this morning?”
“How could we know why you—” Eden started, but Tyler cut her off.
“Good morning, Principal Willis. This is Eden,” he said. “She just moved here from Sweden. Ms. Mattris helped us enroll her in classes.”
“Welcome back, Sasha,” the man said. “You.” He faced Eden. “Du har precis flyttat hit från Sverige?”
So this man, whoever he was, would be Eden’s first challenge. You’ve just moved here from Sweden? he’d asked.
Naturally, Xavier had taught the recent unit on her alleged homeland in the native language. Eden’s Swedish was fluid and sure. “Jag kom precis hit,” she answered. For the first time, she was truly grateful for Xavier’s demanding curriculum.
“Jag är född i Stockholm.” The man smiled icily. I was born in Stockholm, he’d said. “I’m Principal Willis. Welcome to my school.” He clasped hands the size of dinner plates in front of him. “Now, off to class. Don’t be late on your first day.”
Sasha and Tyler led the way down a hallway packed with throngs of students sporting new clothes and summer tans. Suddenly, a piercing ring sent students skittering in every direction. Eden jumped at the noise, then searched frantically for its source. She knew alarms were used to alert mortals to emergencies. But after a moment she realized the other students had barely reacted. Tyler shook his head, laughing.
“Better get used to that,” he said. “Starting today, it runs your life.”
“Don’t you have that in Sweden?” Sasha asked. “The bell rings to start and end classes. That was the warning bell. Meaning we have one minute to get to homeroom.”
Tyler grinned. “Don’t look so scared. It’ll only encourage them.”
“Tyler!” Sasha scolded.
He laughed and clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Good luck. You’re gonna need it.” A guy walked up and grabbed him round the neck, and he disappeared into the crowd.
“Let’s run!” Sasha said. There was no time to be nervous. Eden raced after her to homeroom.
Even though she’d traveled to places on Earth that many mortals would never see, Mission Beach Middle School held countless wonders for Eden. Each time the bell rang, you got to get out of your seat, walk down the hall while speaking freely to other students, and proceed into a brand-new classroom to be instructed by a different teacher. This happened six times in a school day. Compared to solitary lessons in the lamp, the setup was glorious.
Surprises awaited her in every class. In homeroom, she was shocked when the teacher turned on the TV. She couldn’t imagine what Xavier would say about that.
On the screen, a teenage boy and girl sat at a desk like the anchors on the news the night before.
“Good morning, and welcome back!” said the boy with a big, cheesy smile. “This is Mission Beach High Morning News, bringing you the local, national, and global news you want to know!”
“If you’re new,” the girl chimed in, “we broadcast to Mission Beach High, Middle, and Elementary schools every morning from Monday to Friday.
“The season opener for our Mission Beach High Tigers is Friday night, at home,” she said. “Tickets are going fast, so make sure you get one!”
“And this afternoon, our middle school football team will be playing a preseason scrimmage against Mount Carmel,” the boy added. “Come on out and support your baby Tigers!”
Eden watched in awe as they moved on to local news: a convenience store robbery, the birth of a panda in the San Diego Zoo, the upcoming visit from the president. They even did a spot on the Darryl Dolan story, which seemed to be a media favorite.
After homeroom, Eden and Sasha moved to their first period, Spanish. The teacher was an exhausted-looking woman named Mrs. Cantrell. Her weakly delivered lesson didn’t even compare to the dynamic teaching of Xavier. Eden had always known he was brilliant, but in a vague, general way, like the way she knew he had dark hair and loved show tunes. Now she could see how extraordinary he was. Mortals had nothing on him.
As the hour went on, Eden couldn’t help but wonder what these mortals had done in their previous years of schooling. After going over a few basic conversational phrases, they moved on to conjugating simple verbs. To Eden, the lesson was child’s play.
But while she was miles ahead academically, there were also parts of school on Earth she didn’t understand. Throughout first period, the whole room turned to stare every time she answered a question. A few of the looks she got were downright hostile, but Eden couldn’t work out why.
Eventually, Mrs. Cantrell told her to raise her hand.
“Raise my hand? Why?”
“Sorry,” Sasha spoke up. “She’s from Sweden. Things are different there.” With her eyes wide, she shook her head emphatically at Eden. So Eden kept her mouth shut through the rest of the class and observed. It seemed stud
ents lifted one arm if they wanted to answer a question, and then the teacher chose one of them to speak. It was a peculiar system.
During the class change, Sasha administered a rapid-fire tutorial on classroom etiquette.
“And even if you know the answer—well, you don’t always have to say it,” she explained, snapping open the lock on her locker. Eden stood next to her in front of the locker she’d been assigned. She had no idea what to do with it.
“Why not?” Eden inspected the mysterious lock; she’d never seen one before. Sasha reached over and spun the dial on the front one way and then the other.
“Well,” she said. The lock popped open and Eden hopped back, startled. “Nobody likes a show-off. You do want to make friends, right?”
Eden’s skin went cold. “They don’t like me?” She hated the way her voice quivered, but she felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. Mortals were simple, with simple thoughts and desires. Before, when she came to Earth for grantings, she’d never cared what they thought of her. She knew she was above them, and she was never going to be there long anyway. But for the first time in her life, she was planning to stay for a while. For the first time, she cared what they thought.
Sasha seemed to think hard about how to answer. “Right now I don’t think anyone knows what to think of you.”
Eden felt as vulnerable as a toddler. She tucked a wisp of pale hair behind her ear. Suddenly she wasn’t sure of anything—not even the clothes she was wearing. She’d assumed posing as a mortal would be easy. After all, she was better than them, right?
“Nerd alert!” someone called. Eden looked up to see a petite, well-groomed girl strutting by. Her thick, curly brown hair was pulled half up, and she wore a long-sleeved baby pink dress. Skye and Claire flanked her like sidekicks. At the insult, each of them was overcome by giggles.
The girl smirked at Eden, showing dimples in her cheeks. She’d been behind one of the hostile looks in Spanish class.
“Grow up!” Sasha shot back. Then, “Skye? Claire? Hel-lo?”
Eden's Wish Page 9
