Fair Coin

by E. C. Myers

  “This is completely my fault. Maybe not directly, but it's all because of those wishes.” He'd traced it all back, and he figured it out: he'd traded his mother's life for his best friend's.

  “You don't know that for sure. Stop pitying yourself.”

  He showed her the quarter. “Shelley gave me this.”

  “She knows?”

  He shook his head. “Nathan just sent it with her to give me a message only I would understand. He told her I could save him.” He tapped the quarter against the counter, hitting it harder and harder. Jena put her hand over his to still it.

  “That isn't an option.”

  Ephraim sighed. “I wonder.”

  “You sent it away. It disappeared. There's nothing you can do.”

  Ephraim flipped the quarter. “Whenever I made a wish, if I didn't flip the coin immediately, it got hotter. Like it was being ‘activated,’ like you said.”

  He scratched his chin with the edge of the quarter. He'd just remembered that night at the bus stop, when the homeless man had picked up the coin right after Ephraim made a wish and dropped it. The wish had been granted when the man handed it back to him—when it made contact with Ephraim's skin. “If the wish isn't granted until I flip the coin, and touch it, it could still be in the fountain.”

  “So maybe you have to touch the coin a second time to complete the wish? Ephraim, I don't know.”

  “You're right, I don't know that for sure. I don't really know anything about it. But I have to touch other people to include them in the wish too. Maybe the coin is contact-sensitive.”

  “That kind of makes sense. But even if it's still there, it'll be impossible to find. There are a lot of coins in that fountain.”

  “But there's a chance…”

  “Ephraim, think about this. Really. Is this a good idea? You said you weren't going to change anything anymore. You promised. That's how you get trapped; there's always one more thing that you have to fix. What will you do if something happens to your mother again, or to m—you could just make things worse. Remember the monkey's paw!”

  “I know. But none of this would have happened if I hadn't used the coin in the first place. I have to try,” he said.

  “Then I'm coming with you,” she said. “It'll be faster if we both look.”

  There was still half an hour of sunlight before the park closed. It was completely deserted, the tall columns lining the path cast long shadows over Ephraim and Jena. The fountain of Atlas loomed before them ominously in the plaza. They stood at the base and looked up into the bronze statue's face.

  “I have a bad feeling about this,” Ephraim said.

  Jena gaped at him. “I can't believe you actually said that. What's wrong with you?”

  “Sorry.” He slipped out of his sneakers and peeled off his socks. Jena kicked off her yellow sandals. She climbed over the side of the fountain and sat on the edge, dipping her feet into the shallow water. She shrieked.

  “It's cold!”

  Ephraim followed her. It was cold. It froze his toes and lapped against his calves as he waded in. The bottom was slimy, and coins pressed into the soles of his feet. He walked gingerly halfway around the fountain, feeling on the verge of slipping the whole way. He pointed to an area near the platform at the statue's feet.

  “I threw the coin over there and it bounced back…” He waved his hand over a rough arc near the center of the pool. “Kind of around here?”

  They crouched in the water, sweeping their hands along the bottom of the pool and coming up with dripping handfuls of silver and copper coins. From a distance they'd always made him think of pirate treasure at the bottom of the sea.

  “We should be organized about this,” Jena said. She picked through the coins, scrutinizing each one and dropping the rejects into her open palm. She sloshed over to the side of the fountain and dumped the handful over the side before returning for more. “If only we had some buckets,” she said.

  Ephraim blinked as a spray of water hit him from above. His shirt was already soaked. He looked over at Jena and saw that her dark-blue tank top was wet through, too. She caught him staring at the clinging fabric and splashed him in the face with water.

  “Next time that'll be a handful of coins,” she said.

  “Right.”

  “I almost wore a white shirt today, too,” she said, pulling the shirt away from her skin with a grimace. “You can wipe that smile off your face.”

  “I wish we could turn that water off,” Ephraim said.

  The gurgling water suddenly stopped, and the fountain sputtered off. “Well, how about that.” He slicked his hair back and grinned.

  “Ephraim! Don't wish for anything while we're handling coins. Get it?” Jena flicked her own damp hair away from her eyes. She rubbed her speckled glasses uselessly against her wet shirt. “I think that was just a coincidence. They turn the fountain off at night. Keep looking.”

  “Hey, do they have security in here at night?”

  “The police are supposed to check the park, but I don't know how often they come by.”

  The man who had built Greystone Manor and the surrounding estate in the late 1800s had spent his fortune frivolously, then lost it all during the Depression. When he went bankrupt, the city took over his estate and turned it into a public park. It was on extended loan to the Summerside Public Library, which maintained the grounds. Kids still explored the abandoned buildings, and there'd been reports of weird rituals in the middle of the night—thus the prohibition against being in the park after dusk.

  They continued methodically sorting through the quarters in the fountain, piling them out of the way on the side. If cops did catch them there, it would probably look like they were stealing.

  After an hour they were working in twilight. They had cleared a good amount of coins from the base of the statue but still hadn't found the one they needed. Ephraim's fingers were numb from the cold, and the tips felt raw from scraping against the cement floor.

  Ephraim called a break and sat on the edge of the fountain.

  “My fingers are all wrinkly,” Jena said. She pulled one foot into her lap and examined it. “My toes too.”

  “You're lucky. I can't even feel my toes anymore.” Ephraim sighed. “Maybe the coin did disappear. We're wasting our time.”

  “Aw. Don't give up now,” a voice said behind them.

  Ephraim turned and saw a dark shape separate from the shadowed hedges around the fountain's plaza.

  “Who's there?” Ephraim asked. He recognized the voice, but it couldn't be…

  “My body's not even cold in the ground yet and you've forgotten me already. Then again, I can't say I blame you, considering the distraction. That's Jena, isn't it? Looking good.” A wolf whistle cut through the darkness.

  A flash went off, and Ephraim flinched. A bright green blob floated in his field of vision.

  Nathan stepped into the circle of moonlight illuminating the plaza. He lowered his digital camera. Jena gasped.

  Ephraim stared. “Nathan?”

  “But you're dead,” Jena said.

  “I've come back to hauuunt youuuu…” Nathan grinned. He stuffed the camera into a back pocket of his jeans. “Just kidding. I wouldn't want one of you to piss yourselves in the fountain. That wouldn't be sanitary.”

  “He tricked me,” Ephraim said to Jena. “He sent Shelley to tell me that he was dead, hoping that I'd bring him to the coin.” He kicked some water out of the fountain.

  “You're close, Eph,” Nathan said.

  “Did Nat have a twin?” Jena whispered. She stood behind

  Ephraim now, one hand on his arm. Her palm was hot against his cold, wet skin.

  “No, not that I know of. Why?”

  “That isn't Nat,” she said in a low voice. “He moves differently. His body isn't quite as built up. His hair's too long. Nat had short spiky hair, and it can't have grown to shoulder length in a day.”

  Now that Jena mentioned it, he saw it too: this couldn
't be the same football player that Nathan had become thanks to the coin. He was leaner, for one—those broad shoulders and thick biceps couldn't disappear overnight. The angles of his cheekbones made him look meaner too, especially when he looked over his glasses at them. He wore a thin silver chain around his neck, a fitted black T-shirt, and black jeans. Ephraim had noticed the difference this morning, but he'd hoped Nathan was just gradually changing back to the way he used to be.

  “Who the hell are you?” Ephraim said.

  “I'm disappointed, Ephraim,” Nathan said. “You're slower than your counterpart.”

  “What do you mean, my ‘counterpart’?”

  “It looks like Jena's figured it out, but then she's always been smarter than you.” His eyes raked over her. “No luck finding it?” Nathan asked.

  “Finding what?” Ephraim asked.

  “You expect me to believe you guys are raiding the fountain for ice cream money?” he asked. “I want your ‘wishing coin.’ More specifically, I want you to use it to make a wish for me.”

  “We went over that this morning. That was you, wasn't it? The coin's gone,” Ephraim said.

  Ephraim eyed Nathan, wondering if he could take him down if he caught him by surprise. Or maybe they should just run. He tensed, waiting for Nathan to get close enough for him to jump him. Nathan caught the movement.

  “Don't try anything,” Nathan said. He reached back behind him and drew a pistol. Moonlight glinted off its dark barrel.

  “Oh God.” Jena's hand tightened around Ephraim's arm. Her fingernails dug into his skin. “That's real, isn't it?”

  “Would you like to find out? If you don't get that coin and make a wish for me, you're going to end up just like this universe's Nathan.”

  Jena drew in a sharp breath. “I knew it!” she said. “There were two of him.”

  Ephraim stared at the other Nathan. “Why would you kill your own double?”

  The other Nathan shrugged. “I asked him about the coin, but he said he didn't know anything about it. He was more useful to me dead.”

  “You killed him…then you called Shelley and told her about the coin and asked her to meet you, so she would find the body.” Ephraim said, putting the pieces together.

  “Knowing that once she told Ephraim, he would come looking for the coin.” Jena groaned.

  “This was a set-up.” Ephraim said.

  “I knew you would go after the coin, for the sake of your best friend,” Nathan continued. “And here we are.”

  “I wasn't lying before. I wished it away.”

  “If you really believed that, you wouldn't be searching for it.” Nathan said. He leaned against a lamp post and swept the gun out in a wide arc. “Please, keep at it. But if I hear the words ‘I wish’ coming out of your mouth, I'll shoot you. Trust me, I have fast instincts and I'm a good shot. I've had a lot of target practice.”

  “I hope he's referring to video games,” Jena muttered. Nathan chuckled. Ephraim and Jena stepped back into the fountain and scooped up more coins.

  “Jena?” Nathan said.

  She turned and glared at him.

  “Your shirt's wet,” he said. “I wouldn't want you to catch a cold. Why don't you take it off.”

  When she didn't move, Nathan pulled back the safety hammer of the gun and calmly leveled it at her. She glared, but she pulled off her shirt. Ephraim looked away and stared down into the water, silently fuming.

  “Victoria's Secret?” Nathan pulled out his camera in his left hand and flashed a picture one-handed.

  Jena threw her wet shirt at him, but it fell short. “Asshole,” she said.

  “Just be thankful I'm only shooting pictures.” He held up the gun in his other hand.

  She hunched over, trying to hide her breasts with her arms while she awkwardly groped around for quarters. A bra strap slipped down over her shoulder, and she cursed.

  “How could there be two Nathans?” Ephraim whispered to her. The camera flash went off again.

  Jena bit her lip. “He's a doppelganger,” she said.

  “A doppelganger?”

  “It's like a double, a twin. They can be ghosts or shadows or invaders from a parallel universe. Classically, they're a sign of bad luck. Or death.”

  “The gun tipped me off on that one. So the kid in the morgue, the photo that Nathan showed me…that really was me. It was my doppelganger?”

  Jena nodded. “That nixes my time travel theory, at least.”

  “This second Nathan showed me that picture of my dead…doppelganger. So he's probably been hanging around since he died.” Ephraim had even seen him at the hospital that night. Suddenly Ephraim had an explanation for all the times he had spotted Nathan where he couldn't have been, sometimes in two places at once. This Nathan was the one who beat up Michael Gupal while Ephraim's Nathan was trapped in the locker. This Nathan had been spying on Ephraim at Jena's party. “I wonder if they're both from the same universe, the same place the coin came from.”

  “Hey. Enough talking,” Nathan called.

  Jena nodded. She reached up and straightened her bra strap. Ephraim averted his eyes again.

  “Why didn't I see it before? We even got a picture of him in the park!” he said. He splashed his hand into the water. “Dammit! I bet he's been following me ever since I found the coin.”

  “If he's actually from a parallel universe, there is no ‘real’ Nat. They're all real—just different from each other.” Jena pushed her wet glasses up her nose excitedly. “This is really big. We have evidence that the multi-world hypothesis is true!”

  “I said shut up!” Nathan shouted.

  “What's the matter, are your ears burning?” Jena said.

  “Don't taunt him,” Ephraim said. He turned to Nathan. “We're trying our best, but there are a lot of coins in here. They all look the same.”

  They moved around the fountain, sifting through coins with increasing desperation. Ephraim knew their time was running out. When they drew close again, Jena whispered.

  “Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” she said.

  “That we're screwed?”

  “Besides that. The coin comes from a parallel universe, right? At first I thought it might be from a world where magic works like science, because of different physical properties in its universe. But now I don't think it was granting your wishes at all.”

  Nathan cleared his throat. “I can see I'm going to have to break you two up. Jena, come here.”

  Jena stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. “I'm not taking my bra off.”

  Nathan shrugged. “Nothing I haven't seen before.”

  Jena waded to the edge of the fountain and glared at Nathan. “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “Ephraim,” Nathan said. “The sooner you find that coin, the less fun I can have with your girlfriend.”

  Ephraim increased his speed, picking up quarters and shoving them into the pockets of his shorts when they turned out to be ordinary. When they filled to overflowing, he walked with leaden legs to dump them over the side of the fountain.

  Five minutes later he noticed a warm current of water as he swept his hand along the slimy bottom. He moved his hand back and forth, palm flat like a metal detector over a patch of sand. Yes, it was definitely warmer over there.

  He advanced inch by inch toward the source, his hand outstretched. He was getting closer.

  Nathan yawned. “What are you doing, Ephraim?”

  “I'm trying!” Ephraim said.

  “You aren't stalling, hoping someone will discover us, are you?”

  “No!”

  “Maybe you just need more motivation.” He pointed the gun at Jena.

  “Nathan, don't—”

  A gunshot rang out and Jena's body jerked. Ephraim flinched.

  She couldn't have been hit. Nathan wouldn't really kill her. That was only a warning shot, or the gun was loaded with blanks. It had to be a replica, one of those movie props, to psyche them out into giving him what he wa
nted.

  This wasn't happening.

  Jena spun around and looked at Ephraim, her face white as the moon. Blood ran down between her breasts. She lifted a hand to the wound in her chest and opened her mouth, then pitched face-forward into the water.

  “Jena!” Ephraim dropped the coins he'd been cupping in his hands and stumbled toward her. Nathan stepped up to the fountain edge and aimed the gun at him.

  “Stop right there, Ephraim.”

  “But Jena…she still might be—”

  “She's gone, buddy. The only way to save her is to find that coin. Then maybe I'll let you ‘wish’ her back to life.” He laughed.

  Ephraim waited for Jena to move, but she didn't. Her body floated in the shallow water, with a red cloud spreading around it. The damp air was tinged with a metallic scent that nearly made him gag.

  Nathan's camera flashed against the water's surface.

  “You bastard.” Ephraim tensed. “You didn't have to—”

  “Find it, Ephraim. Or I'll shoot you next.”

  Ephraim clenched his fists and held his arms straight at his sides, his eyes locked on Jena. He couldn't move even if he wanted to. He watched for the slightest sign that she was still there, that she was just pretending, so she could surprise Nathan, or…. He willed her to be alive. She had to be.

  But Jena couldn't hold her breath underwater for this long, and there weren't any air bubbles as the water around her grew darker and darker and slowly billowed toward him. The numbness in Ephraim's submerged feet froze every part of his body.

  Nathan cocked the gun again, a sharp sound that broke Ephraim's paralysis.

  “You won't kill me,” Ephraim said hoarsely. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I know I'm the only one who can use the coin.” His Nathan hadn't been able to before, at least.

  “I'll shoot your knees so you can't walk. How's that sound?”

  “Go ahead.” Ephraim's voice trembled. He breathed in and out. In and out. He spoke the next words strong and clear. “You've already killed my two best friends. You can't hurt me any worse than that.”

  “Oh, have you forgotten about Maddy? I haven't.”

  Ephraim snapped his attention to Nathan and took a step forward. Nathan didn't even flinch. His gun was trained on Ephraim's knees, his left hand bracing his right wrist the way he held the controller when they were playing a shooting game. The psychotic grin on his face told Ephraim that Nathan would do it. He was vicious enough to shoot Ephraim's mother. If Ephraim were going to rush him, he'd better be sure he could win the fight without getting himself incapacitated or killed.