Eden's Wish

by M. Tara Crowl

  The girls walked on without acknowledging her.

  Sasha looked disconcerted. To Eden, she said, “I don’t even know who that girl is. I think she’s new too.”

  “Seems like she’s doing better than I am,” Eden said despondently. “Why are your friends with her?”

  “I don’t know.” Sasha shook her head, as if trying to forget it. “We’ve got to get going. Are you gonna carry that backpack around all day?” Eden realized Sasha had stored her own backpack inside her locker, taking only a notebook and pencil. Even though the bracelet would ensure no one could take the lamp from her, the thought of being apart from it made her anxious. But after all, there was a lock. And she did need to blend in better.

  With new determination, she shoved her backpack inside and slammed her locker closed. “I’ll show those mortals I’m just like them,” she declared.

  Sasha blinked. “Those what?”

  Eden flushed. “Sorry. People.”

  Sasha seemed to consider saying something, but changed her mind. She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Come on,” she said. “We’ve got two minutes to get to the other side of the building.”

  As they rushed down the hall, Eden scolded herself. Mortals. A small but revealing slip.

  She had to start being more careful.

  When Eden and Sasha walked into second period, there was no teacher in sight. Back-to-school chatter filled the air as students milled around.

  But when the bell rang, the party ended abruptly. A woman with skin so black it almost gleamed blue came striding in. She had high, regal cheekbones, blinding white teeth, and tight red dreadlocks wound in a bun on top of her head. Her limbs were long and powerful, like they belonged to an Olympic hurdler. She pivoted at the front of the room and faced them, shoulders back and chin tilted high.

  Her gaze was cold enough to freeze water.

  “Sit,” the woman hissed. A reverent hush filled the room. Anyone who was still standing sat quickly. The woman lifted her chin even higher and eyed them imperiously. “I am Ms. Bola.” Her voice was low, with a sharp British accent. She enunciated each word, leaving pockets of space between them to build suspense. “Today we begin our study of world history.”

  How many times had Eden studied that face, drawn by Goldie’s pen with incredible accuracy? She could rattle off the genie’s career highlights on cue. There was no doubt in her mind: this was the very same Bola from the Lamp History course guide.

  What was she doing at the front of this classroom? Bola was one of the most esteemed genies of all time. Xavier and Goldie exchanged messages with her often, many of which Eden had seen. She seemed to remember that after several centuries in Eastern Europe, Bola had recently moved to San Francisco. That would only be a short plane ride away.

  But what could possibly make her want to teach seventh graders at Mission Beach Middle?

  Ms. Bola read through the names for roll call impatiently, barely pausing long enough for each student to respond. When she reached Eden’s, she raised her head like a serpent seeking her prey.

  Eden swallowed. “Here,” she said.

  Ms. Bola smiled. “Eden,” she said with unnatural warmth. “Like the garden. The original paradise.”

  An uneasy feeling came over Eden.

  “Ms. Mattris told me you just moved here from Sweden. Is that right?”

  Eden gulped. “Yes.”

  “Wonderful.” Ms. Bola gave her a chilling smile. “I’m sure there are many things you can teach us.”

  Over the following thirty minutes of her sweeping introduction to world history, Ms. Bola called on Eden no fewer than seventeen times—not one of which Eden raised her hand for—to share facts about Sweden and its history. She practically ignored the other students, which seemed to suit them just fine. They sat shell-shocked at their desks, terrified the teacher’s attention would turn. Fortunately, Xavier’s unit on Sweden was fresh in Eden’s mind, so she kept up and answered every question correctly.

  Between questions, Eden tried to figure out what was going on. Naturally, Ms. Bola knew who she was. Eden was sure she’d made an appearance in at least one of the messages Xavier and Goldie had sent to her.

  Could she have come purposely to find her?

  Finally Ms. Bola announced that she was going to play something on the TV. She instructed them to pay close attention. When she turned off the lights, Eden sighed and sank down in her seat, grateful to be off the hook.

  On the screen, President Porter was speaking at a podium. Behind her was a white wall printed with the words Climate Summit. It was, Eden realized, where Xavier had been when she’d looked through the telescope in the study.

  “We live in a beautiful world,” the woman said. Her clear, keen eyes peered out from soft, lined skin. “But in order to keep it that way, we’ve got to learn to treat it well. It’s only when you brighten the world that you can truly see its beauty.”

  Eden smiled. She was glad to see the president wasn’t dense and self-serving like most mortals. She had to admit, some mortals did manage to surprise her. In her dreams of Earth, it was one thing she’d never seen coming.

  Ms. Bola turned on the classroom lights.

  “Eden. Has a female prime minister ever been elected in Sweden?”

  Eden blinked. “No, although Sweden is known as one of the world’s most progressive nations in gender equality. A lot of people expected Anna Lindh, who served as minister for foreign affairs, to become the first female prime minister, but she was assassinated in September 2003.”

  Ms. Bola clapped slowly. “Impressive. Xavier would be proud.”

  “What did you say?” Eden gasped.

  A sly smile flashed across Ms. Bola’s face. “I said your teachers would be proud.”

  But Eden knew what she’d heard.

  “Spend the rest of the period writing a paper on your reaction to the speech we just heard. Due at the beginning of class tomorrow.” Ms. Bola fixed that withering stare directly on her. “Except for Eden. I need to speak to you in the hall.” She nodded. “Come with me.” Reluctantly, Eden followed her out of the classroom.

  Up close, Bola was at once terrifying to behold, and so beautiful it was hard to look away. Though she appeared to be no older than thirty, Eden knew she’d been on Earth for more than two thousand years.

  Bola placed long-fingered hands on her hips. Her nails shone like polished walnut shells. “Tell me, Eden. How’s Earth treating you?”

  Eden swallowed. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t play dumb,” Bola snapped. “I know how things work in the lamp. You know exactly who I am.” She pushed up one cuff of her silk button-down. On her wrist was a gold cuff bracelet, identical to Eden’s but deactivated.

  “Okay,” Eden said carefully. “You’re a genie alum.”

  Bola’s eyes rolled slowly in their sockets. “Obviously.” She shook her head. “What were you thinking? How dare you run away from your duties?”

  “Hey!” Eden put her own hands on her hips. “I’m the one who should be asking questions. What are you doing here?”

  Bola rolled her eyes again. “For a genie, you’re a little slow, you know that?”

  “Tell me!”

  “I came for you.” Bola let that sink in for a moment. “To make sure you get back in the lamp before you do serious damage.”

  “How did you know I left?”

  Bola seemed impatient. “Xavier and Goldie sent me a message asking for help. Since they can’t come get you themselves.”

  For a split second, Eden was touched. They must really miss her if they’d enlisted alumni for help.

  “They messaged all the loyal alumni.”

  “The loyal alumni? What does that mean?”

  Bola’s eyes widened. Eden had a feeling she hadn’t meant to say that word.

  “What happened with the alumni who aren’t loyal?” she demanded. “The ones they don’t communicate with?”

  “Forget about that. The important thi
ng is—”

  But Eden was tired of having her questions brushed away. All at once, she remembered that sense of betrayal when she’d caught Xavier in the spout. She remembered, once again, how he’d lied to her all those years. How he’d kept her confined, like a pet in a cage, when he knew all she wanted was freedom.

  “I’ve got bad news—for them, and for you.” She stared Bola straight in the eyes. “Because I’m never, ever, ever going back.”

  Bola’s dark eyes narrowed to slits. It was not what she’d expected to hear. “How dare you,” she breathed. “It is an honor to be a genie. It is sacred.”

  “Not for me!” Eden shot back. “I didn’t choose it, and I won’t do it anymore. Just like I told Xavier.” Her heart was pounding, but she wouldn’t be scared into surrender.

  Just then, a figure rounded the corner. Over Bola’s shoulder, Eden recognized its hulking shape: Principal Willis.

  Unaware that he was coming, Bola stalked toward Eden, more venomous than before. “Do you realize you’re jeopardizing the whole granting system? In thousands of years, a genie has never done something like this.”

  “What’s going on here?” Mr. Willis thundered as he approached.

  Bola gave Eden one more death glare, then turned to face him.

  “Who are you?” he barked.

  “We haven’t officially met. I am Ms. Bola.” She extended a hand. He took it hesitantly. In spite of his tank-like stature, Bola seemed to strike as much awe in him as she did in the seventh graders.

  “Are you teaching a class at my school?”

  “Yes. The superintendent hired me this morning.”

  The corners of Mr. Willis’s mouth turned down. “Mrs. Melvin is gone? But she’s been with us for fourteen years.”

  “Very unfortunate,” Ms. Bola said stiffly. “I don’t know the details.”

  Suddenly, Mr. Willis noticed Eden. His pale eyes locked on her. “Well, well! Our Swedish import!” He tilted his head. “Why were you two out here in the hall? Was there a behavioral problem?”

  “Not at all,” Ms. Bola said. “We were just having a chat.” She shot Eden a saccharine smile.

  “Sweden, what do you think of our American school?”

  Eden squirmed. “It’s good.”

  “Är det svårt att hänga med på lektionerna på engelska?” Is it difficult to keep up with lessons in English?

  “Jag kan hantera det,” she said. I’m managing.

  With that, the sound of the bell cut through the air. Students burst through the door like jack-in-the-boxes—but slowed their pace as they passed Mr. Willis.

  “Time to move.” Willis turned to Bola. “You were done with Sweden here, right?”

  Bola gritted her teeth. “I guess we’ll finish our conversation later.” Her lips stretched to show a sinister semblance of a smile. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Third period was science. Like in Spanish, the material was incredibly basic; the teacher, a nervous, fortyish man named Mr. Watson, was only beginning to introduce the structure of cells. Again, Eden wondered what these mortals had been doing in school for the past six years. But after what had happened with Bola, it was sort of a relief to be bored. She kept her mouth shut and raised her hand only occasionally.

  However, as Mr. Watson began to explain animal cells, Eden felt a sharp poke in her back. “Ow!” she cried.

  Mr. Watson turned from his drawing of a mitochondrion on the dry-erase board. “Is there a problem?”

  Eden glanced over her shoulder. There, at the desk behind her, was the girl from the hallway who’d called her a nerd. The girl smirked, and her dimples appeared.

  Eden turned back around. “No problem,” she said. Mr. Watson returned to his drawing. From the desk to her left, Sasha gave her a sympathetic look.

  “Loser,” the girl whispered, softly, so Mr. Watson couldn’t hear. The sharp thing jabbed Eden between the shoulder blades again. This time when she turned around, she saw it was the tip of a paper folded into a small triangle. Grinning, the girl offered it to her. Eden took it and unfolded it discreetly on her desk.

  Drawn in pencil on the lined notebook paper was a caricature of Mr. Watson. Big buckteeth protruded over his bottom lip; sweat stains reached from under his arms to his waist; and his pants stopped halfway between his knees and his ankles. In a speech bubble were the words Science is my life!

  The girl kicked Eden hard in the heel. “Ow,” Eden said again—louder this time. Mr. Watson whipped back around.

  “What’s the problem now?” he said, coming toward her. She was in the second row, so there was no time to hide the paper. He swiped it off the desk.

  When he saw it, sadness washed over his face.

  “That isn’t mine!” Eden protested. She pointed behind her. “She gave it to me!”

  “Ex-cuse me?” The girl sounded appalled. “I did not!”

  “Yes, she did!” Sasha cut in. “I saw it.”

  Mr. Watson looked from Eden to the drawing.

  “I swear!” Eden cried.

  “She’s lying!” the girl insisted.

  Mr. Watson shook his head. “Ladies, this is not the way we’re going to start the year.” He pointed at Eden, then at the other girl. “Eden, Gigi. Both of you in the hall. You can get your story straight out there.”

  “Me?” the girl exclaimed. “But I didn’t do anything!”

  “Now!” Mr. Watson’s face was turning red.

  Eden’s chair scraped on the floor when she stood up. Seething, she stalked out of the classroom.

  Gigi kept up the guise of being wrongly accused until they were through the door. Once they hit the hall, she doubled over laughing.

  “What’s funny?” Eden demanded.

  “Seeing you get in trouble,” the girl said. “You’re such a suck-up.”

  “I am not!”

  “Yeah, right. I watched you call out every single answer in Spanish. ‘Yo soy too foreign to raise my hand!’” she mimicked.

  “I didn’t know, okay?”

  Gigi leaned against the wall. “Why don’t you go back where you came from? Nobody here likes you.”

  Once again, insecurity pierced Eden like an arrow. “Yeah, right,” she muttered, trying her best to hide it.

  “You wanna bet?”

  “Aren’t you new too?” Eden said. “Why don’t you worry about yourself?”

  “I’m doing fine. I’m making friends. You notice how nobody’s talking to you? Because it’s obvious you don’t belong here.”

  Eden tried to pretend the words didn’t affect her—but she couldn’t help wondering if they were true.

  Just then the classroom door opened, and Mr. Watson came out.

  “Girls,” he said, “what happened today was unacceptable.” He fiddled with the pencil in his hand. “I should give you both detention. But since you’re both new to Mission Beach Middle and I want us to start off on the right foot, I’m only going to give you a warning.” Eden relaxed a little. She didn’t know what detention was, but she didn’t like the sound of it.

  “Next time, this conversation will be with Mr. Willis. And I guarantee he won’t be as nice as I am.” He looked pointedly at Eden, then Gigi. “Understood?”

  “Fine,” said Gigi flippantly.

  “Eden?”

  Eden nodded, silently fuming.

  “Now, come rejoin the class.”

  On the way back in, Gigi stuck her tongue out at Eden.

  It was a relief to discover that the next period was lunch. Eden went through the cafeteria line with Tyler and Sasha. Each of them got a tray of chicken fingers and French fries, and Tyler grabbed a bag of M&M’s to split for dessert. Eden still had no money, of course, so he paid for hers again. How would she ever pay them back?

  Although Eden and Sasha had been together all morning, it was the first time they’d reconvened with Tyler.

  “You surviving so far?” he asked playfully.

  “Barely.” It wasn’t much of an exaggeration. Be
tween her encounter with Bola and the incident in Science, school was becoming much more complicated than she’d expected.

  “What happened with you and the world history teacher in the hall?” Sasha asked. “She was so intense.”

  “Uh-oh. You already got pulled into the hall by a teacher?” Tyler teased.

  “Twice,” Sasha clarified.

  “She was asking about my school back in Sweden,” Eden lied.

  “She was so fixated on you. It was weird,” Sasha said. “You’d think she’d be happy you’re so smart.”

  “Hey, have you heard anything from your mom?” Tyler asked.

  “Not yet,” Eden said. “She can be sort of hard to pin down.”

  “Sweden! How goes it in the U.S. of A.?” Cameron and Devin slid into the seats next to Eden and Tyler. Their trays were loaded with chicken fingers.

  Eden shrugged. She didn’t want to admit how badly things were going.

  Even lunch was confusing. In the cafeteria, it was clear to see how students divided into cliques. At least one common trait united each table. One pack of girls wore high heels and lots of makeup. A group of guys had ’hawk hairstyles like the man at the beach. At another table, a black instrument case was stowed by each seat.

  Their own group was small—just Eden, the Rockwells, and the two other boys.

  “Don’t we have more friends?” Devin asked. “Sash, where are your girls?”

  “I guess they’ve made new friends.” Sasha nodded toward a table across the cafeteria. Skye and Claire were sitting with a group of boys dressed in matching orange jerseys. One of them had an arm draped around Skye; Claire was laughing at something another had said.

  “Hm. I see,” said Devin. “The football team.”

  “Isn’t that the other new girl?” Cameron asked.

  Sure enough, Gigi was sitting with them too.

  “Maybe I should start playing football,” Devin joked.

  “How do you know who she is? She’s a seventh grader,” Sasha said.

  Cameron shrugged. “Word gets around. I heard she moved here from Arizona.”

  “Well, she’s terrible,” Sasha said fiercely. “She’s been bullying Eden all day.” The conviction in her voice took Eden aback. She hadn’t realized Sasha cared so much.