Before this, the last hand I held was Lisa’s. It was wet and sticky. I was desperate to let go. Not the case with Nate. Our fingers are still intertwined when we reach the ranger’s office. The first-aid kits are lined up on the table in the center of the room.
Nate stacks the plastic boxes in the metal cabinet. “I was making sure everything was stocked up. No one thinks to replace what they take.”
I hand him the last one. “You’re into this, aren’t you?”
Nate’s smile is slight, almost shy. “I’m a medical-show junkie. Always have been.”
“You’re okay with blood, then?” My mother has healed me so fast my entire life, I’m not even all that comfortable with a blister.
Nate bobs his head. “I think so. If I’m helping somebody, it’d be okay.”
“I assume one day I’ll be calling you Dr. Nate?”
He laughs softly. “Nah. Sports trainer. Maybe a paramedic. Not a doctor.”
“Why not?”
“That’s a lot of school. I … I don’t think people see me that way.”
“What way?”
“You know, smart. My guidance counselor talks to me about lacrosse scholarships, not academic ones.”
It surprises me that Nate sounds so unsure of himself. Based solely on outside appearances, it would be Henry, not Nate, one would expect to be lacking in the confidence department. But Henry exudes confidence while Nate seems almost insecure.
I hesitate before saying, “I think if you’re lucky enough to have control of your destiny, you should take it.”
Nate nods, slowly. “You’re nothing like I imagined, Azra.”
Nate’s imagined something about me?
“Yeah, well, I guess Chelsea’s not my biggest fan.”
“She’s just jealous. Practically half the guys in school want to ask you out, but they’re too afraid.”
Afraid? Want to ask me out? Suddenly I fear Nate’s a mirage after all.
“Right, I’ve got so many dates, I need two calendars,” I say sarcastically.
“You really don’t know? Your whole aloof thing isn’t intentional? Guys have been watching you all year, too scared to approach because of your … your vibe. Me, I figured if I kept bugging you to refill my water bottle, maybe eventually I’d break through.”
I laugh and shake my head.
“I’m serious.” He places a hand on his stomach. “I have never peed so much in my life as I have this summer.”
From the “aloof” comment to the image of Nate’s bursting bladder, there’s so much here I can’t wrap my head around. “But I’m not … I’ve never been popular. With the ‘in’ crowd.”
“That’s because you don’t want to be. But considering how good the summer’s been to you, next year, you may not have a choice.” Nate touches the ends of my hair, which fall past my shoulders. “I really do like it this way. Especially with your old necklace.”
As he touches my A his fingertips graze my throat, and again my skin prickles. Who needs to feel calm when the alternative is this?
Nate closes the cabinet and locks the office door. We walk to the bike rack together. And this is where the inevitable lies to Nate begin.
“Oh, I walked,” I say.
“But your house must be as far as mine.”
I look away so I don’t have to lie to his face. “More time away from my family thing. I needed a break.”
Though I should app to save time, Nate’s adamant that it’s too dark for me to walk home alone. I climb onto his handlebars, which naturally he thinks is too dangerous. It’s only when I say my mother’s expecting me that he secures his helmet on my head and starts pedaling.
The ends of my long hair whipping around my face, Nate’s warm breath on my neck, the single beam of the bike’s front light revealing only a few feet of the path ahead, I forget anyone might be waiting for me at home.
But no one at home has forgotten me. When Nate and I roll up to the curb in front of my house, two doors open, one across the street from the other.
On one side, out comes my mother, Samara, Nadia, Laila, and Hana. On the other, out comes Henry.
Taking in the five beautiful Jinn heading down the front sidewalk, Nate’s jaw drops.
I take off the helmet and hand it to him. “Aunts. And cousins.”
“I see the resemblance,” Nate says.
Henry stays on his front steps. Nate waves to him.
“Well, there she is,” Henry says loudly, looking at my mother. “She’s not lost, then.”
Oh, but I am. Totally lost.
21
Not even the rain pelting my mother’s windshield bothers me. Working at the beach in gloomy weather translates into a long, cold, boring day. But the idea of seeing Nate again supersedes anything Mother Nature could hurl at me. Hurricane, cyclone, tsunami, bring it on.
Illusion or delusion, being with Nate makes me feel less like a Jinn. When this drive ends, I’ll get to spend the day shivering in the concession stand, waiting for beachgoers who will not show, pretending I’m nothing but the hot-dog girl.
We arrive at the beach. I pop the door latch, ready to escape the car that traps me as a Jinn, when my mother says, “You and I need to talk.”
“Mom,” I groan, “I’ll be late.”
The rain beats against the glass.
“Probably not going to be a rush for fries today,” she jokes. She then shifts in her seat to face me. “Listen, I know the transition hasn’t been easy, but I need to make sure you’re being careful around the humans. Henry, and now Nate—”
“I thought you wanted me to have friends? To go out and do things?”
“I did.” She shuts off the car. “I do. But you know how important it is that you bond with your Zar sisters, and since you seem to be getting along better with them, I just thought maybe…”
No, no, no. I’ve done everything she’s asked lately. Please don’t let her ask this of me.
“Mom,” I say softly. I owe her the truth. “You don’t have to worry.” Part, not whole, but still the truth.
Past her head, a dripping-wet Nate stops his bicycle next to her side of the car.
He taps the glass, and she looks at him, her lips curling. “Oh, but I think I do. Those arms. I swear it’s like that boy’s been granted a wish.”
“Mom!” My cheeks burn, but at least this ends our conversation.
“Ms. Nadira,” Nate says, as she lowers the window, “I wanted to apologize for last night. If Azra was gone for too long, it’s my fault. I hope her aunts and cousins forgive me.” He issues a shy grin. “Azra’s just so easy to talk to.”
My mother covers her snort with a fake cough. “That’s my Azra. Little chatterbox, isn’t that right, honey?”
I grit my teeth. “Thanks for the ride, Mom.”
As I walk beside Nate to the bike rack, a cold raindrop finds the opening at the back of my sweatshirt and rolls down my spine. I don’t even mind.
“Watch that,” Nate says, gently pulling my elbow.
I narrowly avoid sloshing through a huge puddle.
“It’s going to be messy today,” he says.
Those are the words in my head when Henry shows up a few hours later.
Clouds linger, but the rain has stopped. Mothers stuck inside all day with rambunctious toddlers pour onto the beach, desperate to run off their children’s energy.
Having come without their parents, Henry and Lisa arrive via the town shuttle.
I slip Lisa an ice pop, and Henry and I quietly watch it drip down her hands. He uses the napkins I give him to clean her off.
“Thanks,” he says, finally.
“Sure,” I reply.
Awkward.
Feeling like I need to apologize for coming home with Nate, I begin, “About last night—”
“Forget it,” he says, not letting me finish.
Flashing through my head is the thought that he doesn’t want me to finish.
“I’m just glad you’re ok
ay,” he says. “Your mom figured you were at my house and when you weren’t … well, guess she got worried.”
Popping into my mind are the words “so did I,” but he doesn’t actually say them.
My Nate guilt gnaws at me as I flag Zoe to pantomime that I’m taking a break. She’s watching another basketball training video on her phone with, thanks to my repeated insistence, her earbuds in.
Henry and I sit on opposite sides of a picnic table in front of the snack bar. I clear my throat and gesture toward Zoe. “Last week, she beat her brother in a one-for-one game.”
Henry shakes his head. “One-on-one.”
I knew that. “Right, anyway, she’s convinced she willed herself to be taller. She has me marking her height against the wall three times a week.”
Henry laughs. “And is she going to be called a miracle?”
“Thankfully no. The changes are too small for me to measure. And even if they weren’t, I’d pretend.”
Now running through my mind are the words “something you excel at,” but, again, he doesn’t actually say them. Still, it must be the way he won’t look me in the eye that convinces me he’s thinking them. And this is why I feel like I owe him an apology.
Lisa interrupts before I figure out whether or not to give him one. “I’m bored,” she says. The children she had been playing with at the edge of the dunes were corralled down to the beach by their mother. “Let’s swim.”
Without the warmth from the sun, the usually nippy ocean may very well trigger frostbite. Of course Henry still says, “Sure.”
As I walk them to the wooden path, I brush my shoulder against Henry’s. I need him to know how important his friendship is to me. “If I had a brother, I’d want him to be just like you.”
He stiffens and then relaxes so fast I almost think I imagine the sad look in his eyes. Almost.
“We Carwyns aim to please.” He twirls his hand and bows. “My lady, if there is anything else you desire—”
Following his lead, I curtsy. “Thank you, kind Sir.”
This momentarily distracts Lisa from her desire to swim, but after she mimics me with a few dips to the sand of her own, she tugs Henry’s hand and says, “Let’s go!”
They’re only two steps down the path when Henry turns back around. He then lets me know that, whatever may or may not have been running through his mind earlier, we’re okay. “S’mores at the fire pit after work?”
On my way back to the concession stand, I notice Chelsea off to the side. I hope she’s been watching—and listening. I hope she heard Lisa talk without any trace of a stutter. I wave so obviously that Chelsea’s forced to acknowledge me.
After my shift ends, I go down to the beach to find Henry and Lisa. Since my mom’s picking me up, they can hitch a ride.
Despite the crowds, I have no trouble finding them. Because they’re with Chelsea, who’s perched on top of the white lifeguard chair like a queen on a throne. By her side is Lisa, cupping her hand and offering a royal wave to the entire beach.
I run to the chair. Henry’s at the bottom, laughing.
“She’s not supposed to be up there,” I say, out of breath.
Henry frowns. “It’s just for a minute. And since when are you such a stickler for the rules?”
His reference to me breaking the Afrit’s rules doesn’t deter me. “But it’s not just Chelsea who will get in trouble.”
“Wild guess,” Henry says. “The mighty Nate’s the head honcho who will also get a slap on the wrist?”
Not exactly the head honcho. Nate’s the lead lifeguard. But I don’t think Henry really cares about the distinction, so I simply nod.
“Azra, I’m a princess!” Lisa shouts, drawing even more attention to herself.
My eyes plead with Henry. He rolls his own in response, but he gets her down. “Come on, Lisa. Azra wants you to practice your curtsying again.”
While I chase Lisa up and down the beach, Henry stays behind. With Chelsea. Chelsea, who leans her tiny, bikini-clad body against the bottom of the lifeguard chair and swings the red rope of her whistle as if she were posing for the cover of a swimsuit issue. When Henry laughs, I can’t fathom what Chelsea could have possibly said to elicit such a reaction. That a half-naked girl doesn’t have to say much to cause a teenage boy to be enraptured crosses my mind. But Henry’s too smart to be taken in simply by Chelsea’s assets.
I check my watch and am more relieved than I have a right to be when I see it’s five minutes past my mom’s pickup time. Lisa sprints ahead of me toward Henry.
As I follow her, Nate sidles up next to me. “Turned out not to be so bad of a day after all.”
This, like so much else in my life at the moment, I have conflicting feelings about.
The four of us stand at the lifeguard chair. Chelsea who’s looking at me who’s looking at Henry who’s looking at Nate who’s looking at me.
“My mom’s probably here if you want a ride,” I say, desperate to break up the awkward gathering.
As we leave the beach, Henry and I trail behind Lisa. He then turns, waving to Chelsea.
Seriously?
Before we cross over the dunes I steal a last glance at Chelsea. Her back is arched and she’s laughing. I’m convinced she knows I’m watching when she lands a teasing slap on Nate’s stomach.
In my head, the satisfaction of telling Henry how Chelsea mocked Lisa battles against the fear that it would hurt him too much. But it’s not even a fair fight. If I’ve learned anything from what I did to Laila it is this: from this moment on, not hurting my family will always come first. And without a doubt, Henry is now my family.
22
It is happening. My first assignment arrives, sealed inside a gold envelope with my name embossed in an ornate script across the front.
Azra Nadira.
It doesn’t fall from the sky or anything, just from my mother’s hand.
My bowl of chocolaty cereal no longer holds my interest. The soggy mess and I stare at each other for so long, my mother gets fed up.
“Oh, come on, Azra. Just open the damn thing.”
The lightness of the envelope belies what’s inside. I wedge my nail in the small gap at the corner. Sliding my finger across, I jerk my hand back. Paper cut. Apropos. I stick my finger in my mouth, sucking the blood. Who cares what Henry thinks? Vampires would be a cool supernatural being. Grass is always greener, right?
I nudge the textured linen note card out of the envelope and read the gold lettering. Anne Wood. My first candidate is a woman. The only other information this paper gives me is her address. As expected, she lives right here in town.
I dump my soggy cereal in the trash. “So, want to come along for the ride?” I’m only half joking.
“You know I can’t. No one can. You’re supposed to be fully trained and able to do this yourself.” My mother’s model Jinn answer is accompanied by a glint of worry in her eyes. Especially as she adds, “Which, you are.” She takes the paper out of my hand and her body relaxes. “Or you will be by the time you need to do this. You have a week.”
She lays the card facedown. On the back, in between two squiggly lines is a 7.
“That’s how long you have before you need to grant Ms. Wood’s wish.”
As my mother pours me a new bowl of cereal, she launches into her Jinn lecture of the day: research.
In this, I’m lucky. The Internet affords Jinn of my generation a huge technological jump on how our ancestors performed this least glamorous part of the wish-granting ritual. Even during my mother’s genie days, recon had all the hallmarks of some cheesy movie. Jinn would shadow their candidates like a detective trailing some rich woman’s cheating husband, camera hidden inside a trench coat, binoculars at the ready.
I now understand how proficiency in mind-reading might be a desired skill. The more a Jinn can read their victim’s—er, candidate’s—mind, the less external prep work required.
Learning about the wishee through a combination of researc
h and mind-reading helps us craft the right wish the right way, most importantly, the way it won’t wind up on the evening news. Whatever genie was responsible for the building of the Great Sphinx of Giza or the Roman Colosseum certainly didn’t have to worry about paparazzi, twenty-four-hour news cycles, and conspiracy bloggers.
I go through the day feeling like I have an itch on my insides that I have no possible way of scratching. I even texted Hana, Mina, and Farrah to ask their advice. Well, I wrote texts to Hana, Mina, and Farrah. Knowing my butterflies would get back to Yasmin, the only text I actually sent was to Henry.
Which turned out to be a huge mistake.
“World peace?” My phone dings with another message from him.
He’s been quizzing me all day on potential wishes. Thinks he’s hilarious.
I slide my laptop onto the bed, taking a break from my barely started cyberstalking of Ms. Wood to reply,
Trick. Make her feel the current state of the world is perfectly peaceful as it is.
Cheater. Sure I can’t come? Love to see you do real magic.
Real magic? As opposed to …
How those spiffy loafers working for ya?
That’s baby stuff.
You try it.
I ∗∗wish∗∗.
LOL.
When’s big day?
One week.
’K. Grams giving me evil eye. H out.
He’s out to dinner with his visiting grandparents and still he’s texting me? I delete all the incriminating messages and toss the phone on my bed. Baby stuff. Hardly. Then again, world peace? What the hell would I do with that? I rub my hands to warm them. What if he’s right? What if everything up until now has been baby stuff?
I close my laptop. Maybe I’d better flip through the cantamen instead. I search my room, but the book’s nowhere to be found.
Right. My mother said she was working on a spell. I cross the hall and enter her bedroom where I easily find the codex on her nightstand. When I pick it up, a stack of travel magazines falls to the floor. Along with something else. Staring up at me from in between the pages of an issue on desert oases is a small, red leather book with one word written across the front.
Becoming Jinn Page 17
