by Anthology
Sienna meant what she’d told Mia in that cloakroom earlier today: She likes having a break. She doesn’t mind if Mia takes a while to come up with her wishes. In the back of her mind, though, she’s still scrambling for other suggestions to make. Mia will have to make the wishes at some point, and once she does, that’s it: Sienna will go back to her apartment and back to avoiding contact until the next kindness bumps into her regardless.
It’s a life that doesn’t involve Mia.
It can’t involve Mia, because Mia is nothing but kindness, and Sienna doesn’t think she can bear to see that kindness turn to greed.
Mia shifts on the bed, facing Sienna. The mattress dips from their combined weight. Her knee brushes past Sienna’s leg. Sienna jolts, but makes herself stay rooted to the bed. Her goose bumps were just starting to settle down. Now they rush over her skin like a waterfall. She tries to focus on the words coming from Mia’s mouth: “What if I don’t make a third wish?”
Sienna’s hand abruptly stills, the flyer now half sticking from the book. “What?”
“You said that as long as you’re indebted to me, you’re free. Sort of. What if you stay indebted? If I make my second wish, but never make a third wish, you wouldn’t have to react to anyone else’s kindnesses. Right?”
She’s still trying. Sienna wishes she’d stop. “What if I’m close? What if I’m only a handful of wishes away from lifting the curse?”
“What if you’re not? You shouldn’t have been cursed in the first place. You were a traumatized kid. You don’t owe anyone this.”
“But…” She shakes her head. “My parents tried that already.”
“It didn’t work?”
“They knew the third wish was still waiting for them. They cashed it in, sooner or later. They thought it would be a waste to ignore.” And then they would perform another kindness right away and hold back their third wish, promising that this time, it would be for good. “It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.” As much as Sienna tries to sound casual, she knows she’s losing the battle. Her voice sounds flat even to her. “You would know you only need to snap your finger to solve any problem in your path. What if your brother goes missing, or you get some fatal illness? You’d have to ignore the solution you know is there, or break your promise to me. And—I’d just be waiting for that to happen.” She pauses to squeeze back the sudden lump in her throat. “Thank you for trying. I mean it. But it’s fine. You could do a lot of good with your other wishes, whether it’s for yourself or for the world.”
“Maybe. But whoever comes after me might do a lot of bad.” Mia shifts so that she’s sitting on her knees.
Sienna doesn’t know what else to say. She knows how to avoid small kindnesses—how to keep a snarl on her face and put people off right from the start—but she has no experience fending off kindness of this magnitude.
No one tries hard enough to reach this point.
Somehow, Mia slipped past all her defenses. The realization leaves Sienna feeling both vulnerable and—in a strange, surprising way—grateful. She can put down her weapons. She can breathe.
It’s almost enough to make her forget what Mia is offering.
Mia’s eyes glint in the dark. “My wishes aren’t worth your freedom. I want to help.”
Sienna looks away, at Mia’s shoulder, except Mia is wearing that low-cut pajama top and it might seem like Sienna is looking somewhere more central than her shoulder, and—
Mia leans in. Just a little.
Sienna jolts as a knee presses into her side a second time. Now it doesn’t seem like an accident. She looks back up.
“I want to…” Mia seems to hesitate. Her voice is rough; her eyes drop to Sienna’s lips.
Sienna’s breath sticks in her throat as she realizes what’s happening. For a moment, she’s frozen still. She wants to scramble away from Mia, back to the desk chair, back to safety.
Instead, she lets herself breathe again. She leans in. Trembling. Slowly, carefully, hopefully.
The kiss is short. They knock teeth. Sienna wonders about her breath.
But she also tastes Mia’s mint toothpaste and her own cherry ChapStick. She feels Mia’s hand on hers. And after the kiss, their faces hovering inches apart, she can study Mia up close. Her lips, her skin, stolen glimpses of her eyes. Her nervous smile.
“I’ve never done that before,” Mia says quietly.
“I have.” Pause. “This time was better.”
And the second kiss is better still.
This—her and Mia—it’s not a smart thing to be doing. Sienna knows that. And part of her is relieved when they pull away. This needs to end. She needs to leave. She doesn’t know what any of this means. She needs to—
Mia whispers:
“What if my second wish is to forget we ever met?” Her breath is still shallow; her cheeks still look flushed; the taste of her lips still hovers on Sienna’s.
Sienna licks it away. Blinks. She must have misheard that. “I—What?” Her voice is raw.
“If I don’t know there’s a final wish waiting for me … I won’t have to face the decision over whether to use it. And you’d never have to worry that I’d break my promise.”
Sienna’s mind tumbles over itself to try to keep up. She’s still placing the kiss, still fighting the instinct to scramble out of the room. She watches Mia helplessly.
“It would work,” Mia says. “Wouldn’t it?”
It could. It might. But—
“But I don’t want you to forget about me.” The words sound childish. This is Mia’s wish, Mia’s decision. Sienna’s only role is to grant it. It’s not about her. It’s not about—“I’d still know about the curse,” she blurts out. It might be enough to convince Mia. “I’d still feel trapped. And … and I’d wonder whether I had ruined my chances of really being free. It’s not worth it.”
And I’d miss you.
“What if we both forget?” Mia says softly. “You could believe you finished your wishes and the curse is lifted.”
“I…” Sienna falters. Her mind is spinning too much to keep arguing. She looks down, away, like it’ll help her think. Her fists grip Mia’s sheets. No more wishes. No more curse. She can’t unscramble any words past those six.
For weeks, Sienna’s instincts have yelled at her to stay away from Mia, to wrap this up fast and move one step closer to freedom. She fought those instincts—stubbornly, selfishly. It’s why she stayed for dinner, why she went on the theater tour, why she and Mia are sitting here on this bed, inches away, with Mia’s knee pressing into her thigh.
Right now, her instincts beg her to choose freedom over Mia. And she can’t keep fighting them.
This close to the possibility of no more curse … She hadn’t realized how badly she craved it until it came within reach. Daydreaming and hoping hurt too much. She’d pushed it away.
If Sienna forgets about Mia, she won’t miss her, either.
She nods. Before she can change her mind, she says one final, quiet word:
“Okay.”
Mia leans in, one hand on Sienna’s side, and kisses her again. Briefly. Like a good-bye.
Then she says the words: “I wish…”
And there’s nothing left for either of them to say.
She yanks up her hoodie and sneaks outside before the wish takes complete effect. By the time she’s halfway down the street, she straightens.
She finds herself smiling.
“It’s over,” she whispers to herself. Her memories of tonight replay in her head again and again. The old man hadn’t changed a hair from when she’d last seen him all those years ago.
“Hope you learned your lesson,” he’d said, a wry smile on his face. “You did good.”
She would’ve spat at his feet if it wouldn’t have risked another eight years of curse. It didn’t matter, anyway. He could say anything he wanted to say.
She’s done.
It’s over.
She hugs herself, a happy sob in her throat,
and walks home alone.
MIA
The theater grand opening is loud and friendly.
Mia’s mother wears a glimmering silk dress; her father and brother wear identical blue suits in vastly different sizes.
Mia herself wears a polka-dot dress that feels awkward, but that her grandmother swears looks great on her. The two of them stay near the walls. Her grandmother is clapping along with the music and laughing, for once friendly instead of fussing. They lean in to hear each other over the noise, beam at Mia’s mother when she takes the mic for a speech, grab snacks from the waiter’s plate as he passes by. Mia takes extra for her brother.
It’s fun, and she’s happy for her mom, but being the only one her age is awkward. Her mom said she could invite friends. They both knew it was a pointless offer.
By the end of the night, Mia finds herself wishing she’d brought her Nintendo Switch. She’d have been able to hide in the cloakroom until the party wound down.
She offers to look after her brother instead, to free up her parents and grandmother to enjoy the night.
When she lifts him up, her brother is half-asleep, but he’s thankfully skipped the crying stage. She holds him close, whispering jokes in his ear. His smiles, and his mumbled responses into her shoulder slow the farther they trail away from the noise of the party.
The theater is beautiful.
It’ll be even more beautiful when her mom fills these halls again. Mia imagines flyers on the walls, kids laughing onstage during show rehearsals, one group learning the words to Chicago and another studying Hamilton. She imagines sometimes joining them, and other times doing her homework in the library while her mother works long hours.
Everything has gone so smoothly these weeks; that future feels within reach. It’s a nice thing to imagine.
Her brother falls asleep.
Mia winds through the empty halls. Her arms grow tired, but she doesn’t want to return yet. She nudges open a door. Plush red seats to her left, a stage on her right—
And there, on the edge of the stage, sits a girl.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to be back here.” Mia keeps her voice low for her brother’s sake.
She walks closer. The girl is her age, Mia thinks, with loose black hair spilling around her shoulders. She’s pretty, even if her face looks like she has no idea what to do with herself. She sways slowly back and forth as though moving along to music, though Mia doesn’t spot any earphones.
She does spot something else. The girl has a Switch in her lap.
The girl’s eyes flick up at Mia. “No one told me I couldn’t be. Are you looking after your … brother?”
Mia appreciates that she’s keeping her voice down. “Yeah. I wanted to let my mom enjoy the party.”
“That’s a kind thing to do.”
“Oh,” she says, unsure. Kind? Who talks like that? “Are you with the serving staff?”
“No, I was at the party. Just not for long.”
“It got a little boring,” Mia admits.
The girl frowns at the Switch in her lap as she talks. For the first time, Mia notices the white streaks in her hair. “I’m not sure why I came. It’s kinda rude to come and eat all your food when I don’t even know anyone here. It looked nice, I guess. I didn’t have anything else to do.”
“Did your parents drag you along?”
“No. I found an invitation in my hoodie pocket a while back. It’s kind of weird. Not sure where it came from.”
Mia shifts her brother in her arms. He’s getting heavier by the minute. She wants to sit, but she’s not sure whether she’s supposed to. Given the way the girl isn’t even looking at Mia, she doesn’t seem that interested in talking. “Yeah, that’s weird,” Mia says slowly. She’s got to be missing something. She should just go before she says something embarrassing that makes the girl realize Mia’s cluelessness. She knows she shouldn’t care what strangers think of her. She does anyway.
Especially when they’re this pretty.
“I should…” Mia nods at the door, already taking a step toward it.
“I’ve been trying to play this game,” the girl blurts out. “I was looking at the device in the store yesterday. I’ve never really played these things, but … this one made me curious. A salesgirl saw me staring. She did a whole pitch. It sounded interesting enough so, I don’t know, I bought it.” The girl holds up the Switch, flashing a screen that looks like she might be playing Ace Attorney. “I don’t think I really understand it yet.”
Mia stands there a few moments, not knowing whether to follow her earlier instinct to leave, or to pounce on the opening like she’s itching to do.
Her mom and grandmother do always say Mia should make more friends. And the girl looks lonely.
Like maybe she could use some kindness.
Mia shifts her brother’s position so they can sit on the stage beside the girl. “I’m Mia.”
“Sienna.”
“I know that game, actually. I could help if you want.”
Sienna smiles. It’s slight, but it lights up her face.
Mia finds herself smiling back.
“Yeah,” Sienna says. “I’d like that.”
About the Authors
MARIEKE NIJKAMP (editor) was born and raised in the Netherlands. A lifelong student of stories, language, and ideas, she holds degrees in philosophy, history, and medieval studies. She is a storyteller, a dreamer, a globe-trotter, and a geek. She was a founding member of We Need Diverse Books and the founder of DiversifYA. Marieke is the author of the number one New York Times–bestselling novel This Is Where It Ends and Before I Let Go, and contributed stories to The Radical Element and Feral Youth anthologies. You can sign up for email updates here.
WILLIAM ALEXANDER is a National Book Award–winning, New York Times–bestselling author of fantasy and science fiction for kids, including A Properly Haunted Place and Goblin Secrets, among others. Additional honors include an Eleanor Cameron Award, an Earphones Award, two Junior Library Guild Selections, and being a finalist for the International Latino Book Award. He studied theater and folklore at Oberlin College, English at the University of Vermont, and creative writing at Clarion. He teaches at the Vermont College of Fine Arts program in Writing for Children and Young Adults.
FOX BENWELL is a perpetual student, writer, adventurer, and wannabe knight, who holds degrees in international education and writing for young people, and believes in the power of both to change the world. He’s currently examining disability representation in young adult fiction for his PhD. Fox’s debut novel, The Last Leaves Falling, garnered five starred reviews, got named a USBBY Outstanding International Book, and was longlisted for the Carnegie Medal. He is also the author of Kaleidoscope Song.
KEAH BROWN is the creator of theb highly popular #DisabledAndCute hashtag. She is a reader, not a fighter. A lover and a writer. She has a BA in journalism from the State University of New York at Fredonia. Keah is a senior entertainment writer at ClicheMag.com. Her work has appeared in Teen Vogue, ESPNW, Harper’s Bazaar, and Lenny Letter, among other publications. Keah loves TV, and she tweets at @Keah_Maria about cheesecake and how she should be writing. Her debut essay collection will be published by Atria Books.
DHONIELLE CLAYTON was born in the suburbs of Washington, DC, and spent her childhood Saturdays at the comic book store with her father and most evenings hiding beneath her grandmother’s dining room table with a stack of books. She earned a BA in English at Wake Forest University, was an English teacher for three years, and earned a master’s in children’s and young adult literature from Hollins University. She then moved to NYC, where she earned her MFA at the New School’s MFA Program. She is a cofounder of CAKE Literary, a literary development studio committed to bringing diversity to high-concept content, and she’s the COO of We Need Diverse Books. Dhonielle is the author of Tiny Pretty Things and Shiny Broken Pieces (both of which she cowrote with Sona Charaipotra), as well as her debut, The Belles.
CORI
NNE DUYVIS spends her days writing sci-fi and fantasy novels and getting her geek on whenever possible. She was born in Amsterdam, the Netherlands, where she still resides. Her fantasy novel, Otherbound, earned four starred reviews and won the Bisexual Book Award; her sci-fi novel, On the Edge of Gone, earned three starred reviews and was named a Kirkus Best Book of 2016. Corinne coined the #ownvoices hashtag and is a cofounder of Disability in Kidlit, a website dedicated to disabled characters in children’s literature. She also wrote Guardians of the Galaxy: Collect Them All and contributed to the Clockwork Phoenix and Defying Doomsday anthologies.
HEIDI HEILIG grew up in Hawaii, where she rode horses and raised peacocks, and then she moved to New York City and grew up even more, as one tends to do. Her favorite thing, outside of writing, is travel, and she has haggled for rugs in Morocco, hiked the trails of the Ko’olau Valley, and huddled in a tent in Africa while lions roared in the dark. She holds an MFA from New York University in Musical Theater Writing, of all things, and she’s written books and lyrics for shows including The Time Travelers Convention, Under Construction, and The Hole. Heidi is also the author of the popular The Girl from Everywhere duology. She lives in Brooklyn with her husband and their pet snake, whose wings will likely grow in any day now.
KODY KEPLINGER was born and raised in small-town western Kentucky, where she began her writing career after penning the New York Times and USA Today bestseller The DUFF at age seventeen. Now a major motion picture, her first novel was chosen as a YALSA Top Ten Quick Pick for Reluctant Young Readers and a Romantic Times Top Pick. Kody has since written other books for both young adult and middle grade readers, such as Shut Out, A Midsummer’s Nightmare, The Swift Boys and Me, Lying Out Loud, Run, and That’s Not What Happened. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys playing tabletop role-playing games, cuddling with her service dog, and, yes, tandem cycling. Kody is also a cofounder of Disability in Kidlit and a teacher at the Gotham Writers Workshops in NYC.
KATHERINE LOCKE lives and writes outside Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, where she’s ruled by her feline overlords and her addiction to chai lattes. A graduate of Allegheny College, she’s worked on nuclear weapons abolition activism, lead poisoning prevention, mushroom farm food safety and worker safety programs, and literacy advocacy. She secretly believes most stories are fairy tales in disguise. Katherine’s novels include The Girl with the Red Balloon, which won a Sydney Taylor Honor, Second Position, Turning Pointe, and Finding Center.
