by E. C. Myers
“Friends share things.” Nathan paced back and forth. “Friends help each other. Aren't you my friend, Eph?”
“I used to be. I'm not sure anymore,” he said. “Not since that last wish.”
Nathan's eyes looked half-crazed. “No time for me now that you have Jena.”
“I don't ‘have’ her. She barely tolerates me. And you're one to talk, the way you've been spending all your time with Shelley.” Nathan hadn't even remembered his friendship with Ephraim before, but now he had that memory back too. Unless he had just been pretending not to remember for some reason…
Nathan paced inside the three walls of the bus shelter like a caged animal, constantly in motion. If he was trying to intimidate Ephraim, it was working.
“You replaced me first. You intentionally excluded me from your wish when you told Jena about the coin,” Nathan said.
How did he know what had happened after he was left behind? He shouldn't have realized things were ever any different. Ephraim stared straight at Nathan. Something wasn't right.
“So? I told her about the coin,” Ephraim said. “I decided to be honest with her, the way I should have been from the beginning. The wishes we made…they affected more than just the two of us. We were wrong to make them.”
“You betrayed me, Ephraim. Abandoned me.” Nathan leaned close. Sweat beaded on his face. A drop hovered there for a moment then fell from his bristly chin.
“What happened to you, Nathan? I want my friend back,” Ephraim said.
“No you don't. I know you pitied me. You think you're better than me. I was your sidekick,” Nathan replied.
“What do you want me to say?” Ephraim asked.
“It's not what I want you to say. It's what I want you to do.” Nathan looked around. “I'm getting bored here. I want you to make one more wish for me.”
Ephraim balled his hands. “I can't.”
“Don't fuck with me, Ephraim.”
“It's not that I won't help you. I can't. The coin is gone,” Ephraim said.
Nathan's face contorted with anger. “Gone where?”
“I got rid of it.”
“You wouldn't throw away the only thing you had going for you. The only thing that makes her interested in you.” He jerked his head at the library. Ephraim saw Jena through the glass doors, reading at the circulation desk.
“I wished it away.” Ephraim stood and tried to push past Nathan but Nathan grabbed his shoulders in surprisingly strong hands and held him fast.
“You couldn't have. Don't lie to me. Not to me. Not again. Where's the coin?”
“It's gone back wherever it came from,” Ephraim said quietly. Nathan stared at him, his face an inch from Ephraim's, then finally let him go.
Nathan stomped the length of the bus shelter, then whirled around again. “I don't believe you,” he said. He fumbled in his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He flung it at Ephraim's feet. Ephraim picked it up and opened it.
It was a grainy digital printout of a photograph. It showed a body on a metal cart with a sheet pulled down from his face. The face was torn and bloody, but familiar—very familiar. Ephraim was looking at himself.
“What?” Ephraim asked. The paper fluttered in his shaking hand.
“It isn't my best work. I didn't have time to get an artistic shot—I was in a hurry. The lighting was poor in that hospital morgue.”
“This is the body they found? The one they thought was me?”
How could Nathan have taken this photograph when he hadn't even known about the body until Ephraim told him about it, after it had disappeared?
But Ephraim had thought Nathan was there that night, right by the door to the morgue. Why would he have gone down there? Why would he have pretended he didn't know anything about it until now?
“This is just another one of your faked Photoshop pics,” Ephraim said lightly.
“It was you, Ephraim. And it will be again if I don't get what I want,” Nathan said. “But it doesn't have to happen that way. I'd like us to be friends again instead. We make a good team.”
“Threats aren't very friendly.”
Nathan smiled. “Eph, you know I couldn't—wouldn't—hurt you.” He put his hands in his pockets and started walking into the park. “Your friends, on the other hand…”
“What are you implying?”
“If you told Jena everything about the coin, I'm betting she knows where you're hiding it. And I won't take no for an answer from her. Think about that.” Nathan turned on the path and disappeared from view.
Ephraim had to warn Jena. He ran toward the library.
He used to think he could beat Nathan in a fight if it ever came to it, but since the coin had rearranged his life, he couldn't be sure of anything. Nathan had managed to take down Michael Gupal, so he was anything but a pushover.
Nathan was right, too—Ephraim had looked down on him. If he hadn't been embarrassed of their friendship, he would have brought him to Jena's party when all of this started.
Worst of all, he was beginning to regret giving up the coin. It was the only thing he could have bargained with—but more importantly, it was probably the only way he could have returned Nathan to normal. If his friend weren't gone for good already.
Jena looked up as he rushed into the library.
“You're early,” she said.
He took a moment to catch his breath and steadied himself by holding onto the circulation desk. His hands were shaking.
“Ephraim, what's wrong?” Jena asked.
“Everything,” he said.
Jena made Ephraim sit behind the desk until he calmed down. He waited for her to check out books for a few patrons, growing increasingly impatient and uneasy. He kept his attention on the sliding glass doors at the entrance. Though he doubted Nathan would confront them at the library in the middle of the day, he still jumped every time someone came in.
Jena finally came back from assisting an elderly woman with a computer and sat beside Ephraim.
“What happened?” she said. “You're a mess.”
“I just spoke to Nathan,” he said.
“And?”
“He says he isn't hitting Shelley. He loves her.”
Jena frowned. “Do you believe him?”
“No. But I actually think we have a bigger problem right now. Jena, he asked me about the coin.”
“That's strange,” Jena said. “I thought he forgot about it because you weren't in contact with him during that wish?”
“He did. He couldn't have been pretending all this time. So what made him suddenly remember it?”
“Whatever the reason, isn't this a good thing? That means he's your friend again, right?”
“He might remember our friendship, but he's definitely not normal. Not the way he used to be. I've never seen him like that,” Ephraim said.
He had never been afraid of his friend before. It was disturbing to see him so different…so angry. Nathan's reckless movements and body language seemed to hint at barely controlled violence, and had Ephraim worried for him. What had happened to Nathan? Ephraim was less afraid of Nathan hurting him than he was of what Nathan might do to Jena if he didn't get what he wanted.
“He gave me this,” Ephraim said. He handed Jena the folded picture of his body in the morgue. She stared at it for a long time, her eyes wide. Then she put it on the counter face down and slid it away from them.
“So it really happened like you said,” she said. “I mean, I believed you before, but now we know there was another you.”
He nodded.
“Is this picture a threat?” she asked.
“What else could it be? But that's not what worries me. He threatened you, too. I'm sorry to drag you into this, Jena. I won't let him hurt you.”
She took a deep breath. “I appreciate the protectiveness, but don't you worry about me. He's just trying to get to you because he knows you have a hero complex. What's he after, anyway?”
“The coin,” E
phraim said.
“Didn't you tell him you wished it away?”
“He thinks I'm lying. He said I'd never get rid of it because…” He looked at her. “Because it was the only way I could get you to like me.”
“See? He doesn't know what he's talking about,” she said. “Getting rid of it was the only way to get me to like you.” Jena smiled. And just like that, Ephraim felt a little better already.
“Even so, I think we should be careful for now. There's really no telling what he might do.”
“He's a coward, Ephraim. That picture is the worst he can do to you, and he knows that. That's why he's trying to scare you.”
“Trying? He succeeded,” Ephraim said.
“I'll keep looking over my shoulder if it will make you feel better.”
“I'd like to work the circulation desk today…I could use the practice.” He would feel better out in the open where he could see Nathan and Nathan could see him, rather than in the back somewhere putting away books, worrying about Jena's safety.
She searched his face. “You just want to get out of reorganizing the periodicals, I bet.” She stood up and looked toward the entrance. “Thanks for watching out for me.”
He smiled.
“On the bright side, now I have good reason to warn Shelley to stay away from him,” Jena said. “If Nat's starting to threaten people, he's definitely not good boyfriend material.”
By the end of the day, Jena was as worked up as Ephraim was. She hadn't been able to get hold of Shelley or Mary all afternoon.
At closing, they locked the entrance, and Ephraim shut down the computers while Jena checked all the rooms and turned off the lights. He jumped when someone pounded on the glass doors. He glanced over, praying it wasn't Nathan. Instead, he saw Mary and Shelley standing outside.
He hurried over and saw that Mary had her arms around her sister, practically holding her up. Shelley's eyes were red and puffy, her face splotchy and streaked with dark smudges. He fumbled the lock and stepped back as the automatic doors slid open.
“Are you all right?” Ephraim asked. He noticed a purple and yellow bruise on her forearm. It didn't look like a tennis ball had done that.
Mary looked at him. “Nat,” she said. “He…”
“Did he do this to you, Shelley?” Ephraim said.
She closed her eyes. “Nat's dead.”
Ephraim felt something cold clench in his stomach. “No. I just spoke to him this morning.”
“So did I.” She let out a choked sob. Ephraim took a helpless step toward her, uncertain of what to do. He waved them inside and led them over to a large table where Mary settled Shelley into a seat.
Ephraim sat across from them, stunned.
Nathan was dead. It seemed impossible. Ephraim ran over their last conversation in his mind. He hadn't known it would be the last time he'd see him. “Tell me what happened,” he said, overriding his own feelings.
“He was shot,” Shelley said.
“Shot? As in murdered?”
She nodded.
Ephraim took a deep breath. Given Nathan's erratic behavior, he'd thought he might have committed suicide. Somehow, this was easier to accept.
“He was shot from behind—” It was hard to understand her. She was practically gasping her words in between heaving sobs. “In…the…head…”
Ephraim stood up and walked around the table, because he couldn't just sit still. “Who would shoot Nathan? Why? He's never hurt anyone.” He glanced at the bruise on her arm. He had to remember that this wasn't the same Nathan he'd grown up with. Who knew what this Nathan was mixed up in, or what he'd been capable of?
Jena emerged from the stairs behind the circulation desk. “Mary? Shelley? I tried to call you. Oh my God, what's wrong?”
“We've been at the police station all day,” Mary said. She got up and pulled Jena away. They whispered together by the desk, glancing back at Shelley with concerned expressions. That left Ephraim with Shelley. He sat back down next to her.
Her head was bowed, and she was crushing the hem of her skirt in both hands. “He called me this morning,” she said. “He wanted to meet at the bleachers behind the school after lunch.”
“The bleachers? Why?” There was no game scheduled today.
Shelley swiped tears away from her face and avoided looking at him. “It was the only place we could be alone…” Oh. She meant under the bleachers.
“So you went to meet him.”
She shivered. “It was horrible.”
She'd been the one to find him, Ephraim realized. From recent experience, he knew how it felt to find someone you cared about near death.
“I'm so sorry,” he said.
Shelley smoothed her skirt in her lap, then crushed the fabric again.
“Was anyone else around?” Ephraim asked. Sometimes there were joggers on the school track, and different sports teams always trained over the summer.
“I didn't see anyone,” she said.
“So the question is, was he just unlucky, or was someone waiting for him there? A robbery?”
Summerside had its fair share of crime for a small city, but this didn't sound like a random act of violence, especially considering Nathan had seemed so agitated during their talk. But if it had been premeditated, how would the killer know where to find him? Unless he'd simply followed Nathan.
“They don't think it was a robbery. They found his wallet in his pocket, with cash and cards inside. His cell phone, too.”
“Was he mixed up in anything bad?” Ephraim asked. “Drugs or something?”
“Of course not!”
Mary and Jena looked over in alarm. He held a hand up to show them it was all right.
“I'm sorry, Shelley. I don't mean to accuse him of anything. I want to know who did this as much as you do.”
She sniffled and nodded.
Still, Nathan must have been worried about something. Maybe he even knew someone was after him. That could explain why he'd come to Ephraim for the coin that morning. If only Ephraim had been able to help Nathan, with or without magic.
“I can't believe he's gone,” Ephraim said.
“I want him back,” she said.
“Me too,” he said.
Shelley leaned over. Her face was serious. “Then do something about it.”
Ephraim stared at her. “Like what?”
“He said that if anything happened to him, I should come to you. That you'd know what to do. He told me to show you this.” She reached into her purse then put something on the table. It was a quarter.
He picked it up and looked it over carefully, his pulse racing. It was just a regular coin as far as he could tell, not even one of the state quarters.
“That means something to you?” she said.
“It's just a quarter. You didn't think that was a strange thing for him to say?” Ephraim asked.
“Nat's a strange guy.” She swallowed. “Was. But I cared about him.”
“When did he tell you this?” he asked.
“That's the weird thing. The other weird thing.” Shelley pulled out a crumpled up tissue and blew her nose into it. “The cops said that Nat died this morning. Between nine and eleven.”
Ephraim nodded. “So?”
“He phoned me this afternoon. That's when he told me about the quarter. I have the record on my phone.” She flipped open the screen and showed him. Sure enough, it showed a call from Nathan's home phone at 12:23 p.m. that day.
“So they got the time wrong. I'm sure it happens.” They had to be wrong, because Ephraim had been talking to Nathan at just before ten in the morning.
“I don't think so. It didn't take me long to get to the school, and he was already dead when I got there.” She heaved a sigh. “Something's going on, Ephraim.”
“Nathan couldn't have called you after he died,” Ephraim said.
“Of course not. I don't know why, but he thought it was really important that I talk to you. Like his life depended on it.” She c
losed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were bright and fierce. “So if there's any chance you can do something, anything, you have to do it,” Shelley said.
“That's crazy,” Ephraim said. He considered the coin she'd given him. He didn't know what else to say. “I can't help him anymore.”
“Bullshit.” Shelley straightened. “Nathan didn't believe that and I don't either. When I pulled out that quarter you reacted to it. What does it mean?”
“Nathan's dead,” he said.
“I know that!” Shelley took a breath and crossed her arms. “What if it had been Jena?”
“That wouldn't change the situation.”
Ephraim curled his fingers around the quarter. But Shelley was right. He would do anything to save Jena.
He put the coin down on the table and looked Shelley in the eyes. “I'll try,” he said. “That's all I can promise. But it might be too late.”
“Try then. I don't need to know the details, but do whatever you have to. I know you won't let him down.”
Mary and Jena came over. Ephraim met Jena's eyes as he gave his seat to Mary. He went to the circulation desk. He fiddled with Shelley's quarter, his mind spinning.
Ephraim lowered his head to his hands. None of the pieces seemed to fit in any way that made sense. If Nathan's time of death was sometime that morning, not only couldn't he have called Shelley in the afternoon, he should already have been dead during—or shortly following—his conversation with Ephraim by the park, clear on the other side of town from where his body was found. The cops had to be wrong about that much.
Which didn't alter the fact that Nathan was dead, whatever the circumstances. Ephraim could only think of one crazy solution to the crazy problem at hand.
Jena came over and stood behind him, her hand on his shoulder. He looked up. Mary and Shelley were gone.
“I'm sorry, Ephraim.” Jena sounded like she'd been crying; her voice wavered as she spoke.
“Me too,” he said.
Tears hadn't yet come for Ephraim. Nathan's death was slowly sinking in, but now that he had a plan, however unlikely, he wasn't quite ready to accept it.
She sniffled. “I know what you're thinking.”
“What am I thinking?”
“That this is your fault.”
