If Tears Were Wishes And Other Short Stories (7 page)

Crystal would now become Chris.

****

She had to wait for a while between the burrito stands and the assortment of ethnic cuisines and the all-natural lemonade and juice bars before she finally spotted Sean. He was ordering double-strength leaded at the Allann Brothers Coffee booth on the 7
^th
Street side of the Saturday Market food court when she sidled up to him. A faint smell of pot surrounded him. He probably needed one drug to cancel out the other.

"You owe me, buddy."

Sean looked down at her, clueless. "Hey, man, I'd give you something, honest, but I'm pretty broke at the moment."

"What about the Merc you're so fond of, that capitalistic piece of shit?"

He stared at her for moment while the cheery saleswoman handed him the double, and his eyes widened. "Crys!"

"None other. Where are the others?"

Sean was still staring at her. "Under the trees next to the stage."

"Okay, I'll meet you there. I need your help."

To Crystal's satisfaction, it took Angel, Dawn and Aurora a while to recognize her too. Although with this gang, she probably couldn't give her disguise all the credit. She settled down on the lawn in the midst of the puppies and kittens, and Sean returned with two burritos with sprouts and peanut sauce. He poured himself into a lotus position next to her, seemingly boneless, and offered her one of the burritos. Crystal shook her head.

"Hey, Crys, ya gotta eat, man. We'll find Brooke. The Farm takes care of its own."

Crystal gave a disbelieving snort. "Then how did the Farm lose us?"

No one had an answer to that; instead, they devoted their attention to the puppies in their laps, their soft fur and tiny yaps.

"Look, you guys," Crystal said. "I can't use my own magic, so you have to help me." It was easy enough to conjure up the tears when she let herself; repressing them had been the hard part. She could feel the slight sting at the back of her eyelids, feel her throat closing and the moisture begin to seep from her eyes.

The first thing she made them wish for was that no more harm would come to Brooke.

The second was that they would find her.

****

It didn't work.

Crystal paced the dingy hotel room she had made Sean rent so that they could stay in Eugene and concentrate on looking for Brooke. Her new self wasn't surprised that the Real World had won for the time being; her old self cried out that the wish should have come true. She should have her sister now, and the guys who had taken her should be
paying
.

"They must have wished that no one would find her," she said. "Then the wishes would cancel each other out, right?"

Sean nodded. "That makes sense. But how do you know there's more than one of them?"

"I just know." She stopped pacing and looked at him, sitting in his usual lotus position on the floor on the faded brown rug. But while he still appeared boneless, he seemed more "there" than she'd ever experienced him in all her years on the Farm. The characteristic smell of pot that always clung to him was fading too.

"We have to come up with a wish they haven't already anticipated," she said.

"You know what I wish, Crys?"

"What's that?"

Sean unfolded himself from the lotus and flowed into a standing position. He towered over her, long and skinny, but much less insubstantial than he had been only a couple of days ago. "I wish the guys who took Brooke would pay for the profits of her tears." There was an intensity in his voice she had never heard before, and she stared at him. It was like he'd read her mind.

"Sean, I love you," she said and cried.

****

The next day, a senior from her school who'd just gotten a new Porsche from his dad ran it into the side of a tunnel on the way to the Oregon coast and died instantly.

The same week, another senior won the jackpot in the Oregon Lottery. Shortly after becoming a freshly minted millionaire, he was mugged on the way home from school and shot by one of the robbers.

The lavender-colored high school flew its flag at half mast and the awnings over the front doors were draped in black. South Eugene had never known such a series of what the media incorrectly referred to as tragedies.

Crystal stood with Sean across the street in the bright May sun, gazing at the black banners, her teeth clenched. "We still haven't found Brooke."

"Maybe revenge isn't the way to go," Sean suggested.

"You're the one who wished for it."

"I know. But I didn't know they would
die
. I don't believe in the death penalty."

"I don't either, but it's my sister." She wiped away a stray, unused tear of rage from her cheek. "And there's still one of them out there."

"How do you know?"

"If there weren't any more of them, our wishes would work and we'd find her."

She heard Sean take a deep breath. "What if Brooke is dead?"

"No. They wouldn't kill her. They want her tears. Besides, I would know if she were dead."

Sean took her face between his bony, long-fingered hands and brushed away a second tear. "I have an idea," he murmured. "We wish that Brooke will somehow find her way to the hospital. They can't have anticipated that."

Crystal shook her head angrily. "Whoever is left has her tears, as many as he can make her shed. He can anticipate everything." She ran a hand through the uneven, short black hair. "Will I pass?"

"Pass?"

"Can I go into the boy's room like this?"

"Why do you want to go into the boy's room?"

"Haven't you ever heard that thing about criminals always returning to the scene of their crimes?"

"Crys, you haven't thought this out. Of course he's going to return to the scene of the crime — it's the fucking boy's room."

Crystal stared at him. "Whatever happened to laid-back old retro-hippie Sean?"

"Not enough drugs."

"Well then, maybe you'll be awake and aware enough to watch my back."

He stared across the street at the double doors. "How can I watch your back if you go into the school? It's pretty obvious I don't belong."

She looked both ways for cars and dashed across 18
^th
Street. "When did that ever stop you before?" she called over her shoulder.

He rubbed his thumb and fingers together. "I wish I can keep you from harm," he murmured to himself.

****

Crystal was afraid someone would recognize her, but either all her classmates were blind, or she looked different enough to be invisible in the anonymity of the big high school. She — her new self — was inclined to think the former.

She passed the rows of lockers, passed couples making out in their free period, passed the closed doors of classrooms, until she finally reached the boy's room where Brooke had first suffered for her magic. She wondered who the third guy was. For some reason she knew there were three, as she had known the gag in Brooke's mouth, known the blows she had suffered. The two who had died had been from the West Wing, not guys who would have known her and Brooke as people, guys who could use them as a means to an end, a way to make wishes come true.

She pushed open the door to the john, to the smell of cigarette smoke lingering in the air and the row of urinals against the wall. She hardly had time to look around before a hand shot out and clapped her across the mouth.

She'd found him.

"I finally got my wish," he muttered against her ear as he moved her back with him, one of those cones in hand that janitors used to block the doors when they were cleaning. He inched the door open and put it in front.

"Now," he said. "If you want to see your sister again, you're going to keep quiet and walk out of here with me like we're the greatest buddies in this school."

Crystal nodded and the guy took his hand off her mouth. The other hand was holding her arm painfully up behind her back. She twisted around to see who he was.

"Peter Glass," she said. He was blond and tall and captain of the football team, one of the most popular guys in the school. What did he need their tears for?

"That's right, babe. You came to me, just like I wanted." He graced her with his All-American grin. "After what happened to Damon and Steve, I figured I'd better hold off with my wishes until I had the other twin. So all I wished for was you."

The door of the john slammed open.

"But no good can come from it," Sean said. "Because that's what I wished." He slammed a bony fist into Peter's jaw. Peter dropped Crystal's arm and turned on Sean, who was shaking his aching hand and backing away.

Crystal leaped on Peter's back, screaming at the top of her lungs.

"Bitch!" Peter yelled, trying to shake her off, pounding on the thighs clinging around his waist. Crystal held on tight and bit him hard on the back of his neck. Peter screamed.

Then people were pouring into the bathroom, pulling her off Peter, holding back Sean. "Don't let him get away!" she yelled. "He has my sister!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Peter said. "I don't even know who you are!"

"You okay, Pete?" a big guy who was holding Sean asked. In the distance, Crystal could hear sirens. Well, at least that meant that Peter couldn't get her this time.

And she now knew who her enemy was.

"She bit me," Peter said, holding a hand to his neck.

Officer Anderson forced her way through the crowd blocking the door of the men's room, followed by another plainclothes detective and two uniformed officers.

"Interesting getup, Crystal," she said, shaking her head. "Trying to take the law into your own hands, huh?"

Crystal lifted her chin. "That's right."

"Release them," Anderson said, and the big guys let her and Sean go. The officer took her arm. "Your sister was found at the door of the emergency room at Sacred Heart Hospital. She said she escaped from the basement where she was being held, and she was able to give us the names of her kidnappers before passing out."

Brooke escaped
. A cloud lifted from Crystal's soul.

She glanced over at Sean behind the officer's shoulder and smiled. "You got your wish."

The detective turned to Peter. "Peter Glass?"

Peter nodded.

"I'm afraid I have to arrest you for the kidnapping and assault of Brooke Morey."

****

Dotty hardly recognized Crystal when they picked her aunt up before going to the hospital to visit Brooke. "What did you do to your lovely hair?" Dotty asked.

Chris only ran a hand through the short tufts and grinned.

But when she entered the hospital room, Sean and Dotty behind her, and saw Brooke unconscious on the hospital bed, face discolored with bruises and her arm in a sling, Crystal broke into tears.

Dotty patted Crystal's shoulder, crying herself. "Shhh, shhh, dear. She's all right. Brooke is all right."

Crystal just cried harder.

"Oh, dear," Dotty said, even more distressed. She leaned over and brushed the tears from Crystal's cheeks. "I wish neither of you would ever cry again."

Which of course solved all their problems.

END

About the Author

A former assistant professor of English, Ruth Nestvold has given up theory for imagination. Her short fiction has appeared in numerous markets, including
Asimov's, F&SF, Baen's Universe, Strange Horizons, Scifiction
, and Gardner Dozois's
Year's Best Science Fiction
. Her work has been nominated for the Nebula, Tiptree, and Sturgeon Awards. In 2007, the Italian translation of her novella "Looking Through Lace" won the "Premio Italia" award for best international work. Her novel
Yseult
appeared in translation as
Flamme und Harfe
with Random House Germany in 2009 and has since been translated into Dutch and Italian. She maintains a web site at
http://www.ruthnestvold.com
.