by E. C. Myers
“Crap. I hate green.”
“Maybe we're imagining it,” Nathan said. “Like a group hallucination. Do two people count as a group?”
“It's a side effect of using the coin. I've seen it before. Little things change along with the big ones.”
“Hoo boy, that's some trick. It changed the color of your backpack! It stole money from a park fountain! That's really special. And as an added bonus, it makes people hurl.”
“It does more than that,” Ephraim said. He heard a distinct whininess in his voice that embarrassed him. “We were holding hands right next to each other and then after the wish we were a few feet apart.”
“Damn, that's useful. Better not let that coin fall into the wrong hands.” Nathan closed his eyes for a moment and pressed his hand against his stomach. He belched loudly.
Ephraim stuffed the coin back into his pocket. “You just saw magic. It was small, but something still happened—”
“I'm not even really sure the color changed. Maybe it was always green.”
Ephraim couldn't believe that Nathan was treating this…miracle like it was some common parlor trick. He didn't know how he could convince Nathan that he was telling the truth. Then it came to him.
“Your camera!” Ephraim said.
“What about it?” Nathan frowned and held up his hand, the camera dangling from a strap around his wrist.
“You took a picture of me not five minutes ago. Let's check it. If my bag's a different color, then that proves the coin is magic.”
Nathan made a show of slowly switching on his camera and navigating to the picture he had just taken. He hesitated for a moment before looking up at Ephraim. He checked the screen on the back of the camera again.
“Well.” Nathan handed the camera to him. The screen showed a picture of Ephraim sitting on the fountain. The cascading water was frozen behind him, and sure enough, his pants were wet around the crotch, as though he had pissed in them. But it was the backpack Ephraim was interested in—it was sitting just behind him, a little out of focus, but clearly red.
“Ha!” Ephraim said. There was something else odd about the photo. In the background, behind the fountain, it looked like someone was crouching behind a tree. He thought he saw a face and a tuft of blond hair, the same shade as Nathan's. He zoomed in on the figure, but the poor resolution blurred the image.
Ephraim glanced over at the same tree, but there was no one there now. He didn't mention it to Nathan, not wanting to confuse the issue further.
Nathan's brow creased. “This is a hoax, isn't it? But I don't know how you pulled it off.”
“It's magic.” Ephraim kicked at a rock by his foot.
Nathan fiddled anxiously with his camera. Instead of being excited, he was anxious all of a sudden. Ephraim hadn't done him any favors dumping this on him.
“You know what? Never mind.” Ephraim smiled. “I felt bad about ditching you yesterday, so I wanted to make it up to you. I know how you enjoy a good prank.”
Nathan held up his hands in surrender. “Hey. It's cool, dude. Don't worry about it. I knew you were just fooling.”
They sat in silence for a while, then Nathan abruptly jumped up. “Come on, we're near the library. I have some new pics to show you. Maybe Shelley will be there and she'll want to make out with me in the stacks, thanks to the ‘wish.’”
Ephraim smiled, pretending to go along with the joke. He should just let it rest—they were talking again, they were still best friends. And the coin was still just his. Besides, he didn't mind spending the afternoon at the library. It was another chance to see Jena.
“What the hell is this?” Ephraim said.
“Easy,” Nathan said in a low voice. “You don't want her to hobble over here on those crutches, do you?” Mrs. Reynolds hated it when kids used the computers for anything but research, but she accepted it as a necessary evil to get them in the library doors where they might accidentally pick up a book. Ephraim was sorry to see she still had a sprained ankle, thanks to him.
Ephraim turned his attention back to the screen. He remembered this picture: one of Michael Gupal in the weight room, resting after hoisting a 200-pound barbell over his head. His eyes were closed, fluorescent light shining on his sweaty forehead, arms draped over the side of the exercise bench with his hands grazing the floor. A moment after this picture was taken, Michael had tossed a damp towel at Nathan and called him queer.
Nathan had altered the image: a small dark hole had been added to Michael's forehead. Red lines dribbled down his face and pooled on the floor below him. The towel under his head was drenched with a crimson stain that Ephraim could practically see spreading. It was so realistic, it sent a shiver through him.
“Holy crap, Nathan.”
“It looks good, doesn't it? I did it in Photoshop.”
“Okay. Why?”
“It felt good. Cathartic. Kind of like a little revenge. It doesn't hurt anyone.” The look on Nathan's face told Ephraim that Nathan wouldn't have minded if it did.
Nathan clicked through a slideshow of horrors. Images of their teachers and classmates scrolled by, each one more graphic than the last—each one a macabre work of art. There was a picture of Mr. Morchauser with a gory hole in his stomach, like it had been blasted out with a cannon. He could actually see the blackboard with their homework assignment through the dark tunnel in his shredded flesh. There was a picture of the football team with their eyes gouged out. A cheerleader that Nathan had virtually flayed, her pompoms sprayed with blood.
Nathan had talent, though its usefulness was dubious.
“You could get into some serious trouble if anyone finds these,” Ephraim said. School officials were paranoid these days about anything that suggested their students were thinking of violence.
“The images aren't public. Is that all you can say about them?” The excitement faded from Nathan's face, with anger lurking just behind it. Ephraim wondered if there were any pictures of him that Nathan wasn't showing him.
“I'm really…impressed,” Ephraim said. He also felt a little nauseous, which he couldn't blame on the coin this time around. “You must have worked on these for a long time.”
“It was fun. Next time you come over I'll show you how I did some of them,” Nathan said.
“Yeah. Cool.”
Nathan glanced behind Ephraim and hurriedly closed the browser window. Ephraim turned and saw Jena standing there.
“Hi, Ephraim,” she said. She looked upset. Had she seen the pictures on the screen? “Hey, Nathan.” Nathan nodded to her.
“Sorry if I'm interrupting. Can I talk to you for a second, Ephraim?” she said.
“Sure.” Ephraim stood up. “I was just on my way out. I'll see you later,” he said to Nathan.
Nathan waved him off, already turning back to the computer.
Ephraim followed Jena. It looked like she was leading him to the stacks. He thought of Nathan's comment about making out back there and felt his face flush.
She veered off into a private office. It looked like this was where they did book repairs. There was a long workbench lined with mending tape, pieces of string, bottles of glue. Books in varying states of damage were piled up, cloth covers scattered everywhere.
“Is this where you've been hiding?” he asked. He'd looked for her when they came in and figured she just wasn't at work today.
“Just trying to catch up on all this work.” She seemed nervous, or maybe distracted. “Thanks again for…you know.”
“Yeah.” Smooth, he thought.
She looked like she wanted to say something else, but instead she opened a drawer and pulled out a small rectangular package wrapped in a copy of the school newspaper. She handed it to Ephraim.
“This is for you.”
“A gift? For me?” It was hard on the wide flat surfaces, and the wrapping gave a little on three of the narrow sides. A book.
“It's nothing.” She looked embarrassed. “It's not even new. I just thought you'd li
ke it.”
“Thanks.” He didn't know what to say or do. “We should hang out again soon, if you want. Go out, I mean. Together.”
“I'd love that.” Her face fell. “But, I don't think now is a good time, with everything that's going on. I'll have to let you know.”
“Sure.” What had happened? Her mood had changed abruptly—was it something he'd said or done?
It was the coin. It had to be. That last wish had changed something with Jena.
“Well…I should get back to work,” Jena said.
“Yeah. Um, thanks again for this.”
They looked at each other awkwardly. Ephraim hesitated, then opened his arms and leaned forward. At first Jena was startled, but she returned the hug. She rested her head against his shoulder and pressed closer to him.
Ephraim was glad he was still holding the gift, otherwise he was sure he would have left sweaty handprints on the back of her shirt. As nervous as he was, he suddenly felt more relaxed with her. She was warm and soft, and if he held her for too much longer she would find out this was really turning him on.
He moved to pull away and was surprised when she squeezed him even tighter before finally letting him go. They held each other at arm's length and looked at each other. Before he could lose his nerve, he kissed her on the cheek. She didn't even flinch. Instead she smiled, but he thought it was a sad smile.
When he got home his mother was in a fancy red dress, her hair was pinned up and away from her neck, and she was wearing makeup. Apparently she was no longer on the evening shift. It was like the coin was playing with him. How could Nathan's wish possibly have affected his mother's job?
A pizza box rested on the kitchen table. It was from Pete's Pizza, a place he'd never heard of; they'd always been loyal to Sam's. He put his hand on the box—it was still warm.
“Where are you off to?” he asked as he sat down and opened the lid. He lifted a slice out and lowered a dangling strand of melted cheese into his mouth. It tasted the same as what he was used to.
“Are you still giving me a hard time about this?” she said.
“About what?”
“Jim's taking me to dinner. Is that all right with you?”
Ephraim froze, the pizza still held over his mouth. A drop of hot tomato sauce and grease splashed onto his lip, and he dropped the slice back into the box.
“You have a date?” he said.
“I don't need your permission,” she said.
“You have a date?”
“Are you stuck, Ephraim?” She slapped him in the back of the head, lightly. “How's that?”
“You have a—” He smiled. “So who's Jim?”
“An accountant at my office.” Office? What office? “You've met him, actually. We ran into him at that Mexican restaurant on your birthday.”
“You like this guy?”
She smiled. “He likes me. I'm still making up my mind.” She tousled his hair. “There's nothing to freak out about. It's just a date.”
Ephraim turned back around in his seat and bit viciously into his pizza. She watched him sedately.
“Good pizza,” he said finally.
“Thanks. I slaved over a hot phone.”
He swallowed the bite, then chased it with a swig of Coke. “Have a good time tonight.”
“I'll make a deal with you. You don't make a fuss over my dates, and I won't make a fuss over yours. Probably.”
Ephraim blushed. “Mom.” But that reminded him. He wiped his palms off on his jeans and pulled out Jena's gift. Too late, he realized his mistake.
“Oh, what's that?” his mother said.
“None of your business.”
He put it down on the table next to his plate as though it were a suspicious package that might explode at any moment. He'd been putting off opening it all the way home.
“Aren't you going to open it?” she said.
Well, why didn't he? He picked it up and glared at his mother while he pried away a corner of the thin newsprint.
His mother rolled her eyes. “Here we go. This is why I don't wrap your Christmas and birthday presents anymore,” she said. “Life is too short, honey.”
He ignored her, wanting to prolong the moment as long as he could. When the final piece of tape was pulled free, the paper blossomed open. It was a book, just as he'd thought.
“The Wonderful Wizard of Oz,” she said. “Interesting choice.”
“It's from Jena,” Ephraim said. He flipped through the pages.
“Your father read that to you when you were younger.” His mother hadn't mentioned his father in years.
“I don't remember. Is it like the movie?”
“It's a little different,” she said.
He put it down.
“You don't like it?” she asked.
“It's a nice gift,” he said. “She reads a lot of that fantasy stuff. Fairies. Tolkien.”
“And you like sci-fi more. You come from two different worlds. You'll obviously never work out.” She laughed and picked up the book. “Ephraim, it's an incredibly intimate thing to share one of your favorite books with someone else. I think so, anyway.”
“How do you mean?”
“Your father gave me a book on our second date, the first gift he ever gave me.” She turned to the front page and studied it. “When you give someone a book, it's like saying: ‘I'm trusting you with something that means a lot to me.’ It doesn't matter whether you like it or not, though it helps if you do. What matters is that you understand why she likes it. Why she gave it to you.” She closed the book and handed it back to him. “You should read this. Particularly the title page.” She stood and picked up her purse.
Ephraim opened the book and flipped to the title. There was an inscription, written in pink sparkly ink: “For Ephraim. This book opened up new worlds to me. I hope it does the same for you. Love, Jena.” She had drawn a little heart next to her name.
He closed it.
“You have a very silly grin on your face,” his mother said.
“Mom! Don't you have a date to get to?”
“I'm meeting him downstairs.”
“You don't want to bring him in to meet me? Maybe I should make sure he's good enough for you.”
“I don't want to scare him off. I'm sorry, but if we get married, we're going to ship you off to boarding school.”
The intercom for the lobby door buzzed.
“That'll be him.” She pressed the button and yelled, “I'm coming down.” She came back to the table. “Okay, hon, I'm going.”
He kissed her on the cheek and she made a face. She picked up a napkin and made a show of wiping grease from her cheek. “Don't wait up,” she said.
“Ew. Mom.”
She flashed him a mischievous smile. It had been a while since he'd seen her this happy. He didn't know who this Jim guy was, but she obviously liked him. Did he look that way whenever he thought of Jena?
“What are you smiling at?” his mother asked. He shook his head.
He followed her to the door.
“What book did he give you?” Ephraim asked. “Dad?”
“One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez. I read it cover to cover after he dropped me off. It's the only reason I agreed to a third date, when he gave me another book. Your dad had me pretty well figured out back then.” She smiled and tousled Ephraim's hair.
Ephraim locked the door behind her, then sat back down at the kitchen table with a fresh slice of pizza. He thumbed through the book, careful to avoid getting any grease or sauce on its pages. He started reading.
When the phone rang, he answered it distractedly.
“Hey, Eph.” It was a girl's voice, but it wasn't Jena.
“Who's this?” he said.
“It's Mary Shelley.” Two voices spoke, in perfect synchrony.
“Oh, hi. What's up?”
“Just wanted to confirm we're still on for tomorrow night.” Just one voice this time, but he didn't know which sister it
was.
“Tomorrow?”
“We have a reservation for four at Louie's, the Italian place on Central Boulevard.”
Four? “Right, of course,” he said. He had no idea what she was talking about. Could Jena have arranged this after their talk this afternoon? He would have preferred a more private first date, but maybe she'd feel more comfortable in a group with her friends. And a guy would have to be crazy to not want to go out with three beautiful girls. Then he remembered Nathan and their wish. This was the perfect opportunity.
“Listen, would it be okay if my friend Nathan came along? He really likes Shell—uh, fish. Shellfish.” Ephraim grimaced.
The girls laughed. “Well, yeah,” one said. “That's the whole point of a double date. Shelley's been looking forward to this all week.”
“Mary!” Shelley squealed. Ephraim jerked the phone away from his ear.
“I've been looking forward to it too, of course. Ephraim?” Mary said.
Ephraim felt like he'd been broadsided by a truck. What was going on? “Yes. I'll see you both tomorrow,” he said. “I can't wait.”
“Don't forget our presents!” they said in unison before hanging up.
This must be the coin's doing; Nathan was getting his wish. Ephraim dialed him up.
“We have a double date with Mary and Shelley on Friday night,” Ephraim said.
Nathan was silent.
“Say something,” Ephraim said.
“I don't know what to say.”
“How about, ‘I'm sorry, Ephraim. You were right about the coin.’”
“You're still playing with me.”
“I'm not.”
“You better not be lying about this. If you are, our friendship is over. I mean it,” Nathan said.
“You're going out. With Shelley. Tomorrow night. I just got off the phone with them.” Mary had called it a double date. If Nathan was paired with Shelley, that meant…
“Holy shit, Eph. This is completely amazing. This is going to be the best night of my life.”
Ephraim looked at the book Jena had given him. Even though they weren't properly dating yet, this felt kind of like cheating on her. He didn't want to lose the progress he'd made with her, even to help Nathan, but he did owe his friend. He should just call Jena, explain that this wasn't really a date. She would understand.
