My Wishful Thinking (12 page)

“She was a horse’s ass and her friends acted like silly geese,” I explain.

“Isn’t this enough?”

“No, it’s not. What she did changed my life. It’s BS!” And that’s when we make wish number five.

Em gasps. “He’s crapping everywhere and oh, I think he’s getting angry. Nigel! I think it’s time to go.” The connection is broken.

I look at Eugene and say “E-I-E-I-O.”

CHAPTER 27

ANOTHER TUESDAY NIGHT HANGING IN EM’S ROOM. I’ve done it a million times, but it’s never been remotely like this.

To start with we’re hanging with our genie, which yes, we did last Tuesday, but instead of sitting all prim and proper, insisting we figure out the whole master situation, he’s lounging on Em’s bed. He’s hogging the remote‌—‌which was a miracle to him the first time he saw it‌—‌speed channel surfing so that everything on the TV is a blur.

I can’t believe my favorite genie is acting like a normal guy.

Finally he stops on
That 70s Show
. I guess he figures this is a way for him to play catch-up on one of the decades he missed while being held hostage in the bag by Richard.

Em throws open the door, wearing her favorite light blue tank with spaghetti straps. Her boobs, which are now the size of mine, bulge over the top of the tee. “How does this look?” she asks. Her tone makes me think she doesn’t want a completely honest answer.

“A little small,” I tell her.

“Funny, Lo. Very funny. Don’t you think I know it’s a little small?” She wrestles with the top, trying to give herself more, um, coverage.

“Look. It’s not my fault. I tried to warn you that they’re not all they’re cracked up to be.”

Em sticks out her tongue, then looks‌—‌what’s the expression? Resigned? Like she knows that I’m right but she’s still not happy about it because she thought boobs would be the be-all end-all. “But this is my favorite shirt and now I can’t wear it anymore.”

“We could wish for your shirt to be bigger,” I suggest.

“No, you can’t.” Eugene says to me. “Unless you want your shirt to be bigger too.”

Oh. Yeah.

She grabs an armload of tops from her closet still on hangers and charges into the bathroom.

And me? I’m studying.
Studying!
In the most crazy, compulsive way you can imagine. As I sprawl on Em’s floor, not only do I have the box of SAT vocab cards piled in front of me, but I also have the Official SAT Study Guide, which includes eleven practice tests, scoring, tips, and what you should eat for breakfast on the morning of the test. Okay, so maybe I’m being a smartass about the breakfast thing, but for all I know it’s in there and I just haven’t gotten to that part yet.

I told Em I needed the SAT for Dummies book and she just said these had worked for her.
For her! Not me!

After the revenge wish, Em kept on me about making this one for the SAT. The one where I score a 1,920 on the test. Brilliant. Yeah, so making that wish didn’t give me super test-taking powers. It just meant I have to cram like a maniac in order to get the same score as Em. As if that’s even possible.

I’m not happy about this.

But we couldn’t un-wish this one and I guess that’s why Eugene warned us. What would the new wish be? That Em would get my score? Impossible. She already did better. That we’d both do our best? No, I’d still be stuck with all this studying and it doesn’t meet Eugene’s “be specific” guideline. That we’d get perfect scores? Absolutely not. That might mean both of us would be stuck with this compulsion. Plus, Em thinks if we got our score magically it’d be cheating.

Clearly, it would have been okay with her if I cheated but she holds herself to a higher standard and I have to say that superiority thing pisses me off a little.

She made a half-assed apology, saying, “Oh, Lo, I didn’t realize and I’m so sorry that you have to study so much, but it’s not like it’s really
bad
for you.”

That pisses me off, too.

As I flip through the cards quickly, committing words to memory, I turn over “lagniappe.” Yeah, I remember this one, no problem. An unexpected gift.

Eugene.

Except I’m still unsure how he’s a gift.

None, and I mean none, of my wishes have been all that great and some have been downright scary, like when Jeremy disappeared. The Warped tour tickets seemed great until my mom showed up.

The revenge wish on Sasha made me feel worse instead of better, just like Eugene warned. We cruised by her house the next day and their yard was a mess. All kinds of animal poop everywhere. They’d gotten rid of most the animals, but a couple of pigs were still digging up the front yard, tossing clods of dirt with their snouts. The donkey was still there, eating holes in some of the hedges. Sasha’s mom was in the front yard with her little sister cleaning up, no sign of Sasha herself.

Of course not. Someone else always has to clean up her messes and she remains unscathed. I’d unintentionally hurt the wrong people.

And when I tried to imagine Sasha cleaning up, that didn’t make me feel better either.

So, the wishes have been more of a curse than a blessing, and while I’m grateful for improved eyesight and have a few new, cute pairs of shoes, I realize this
lagniappe
means that Em and I will be tied together for a long, long, long time. Maybe forever. A week ago I would’ve thought this was ideal. Now, as Em turns from side to side in her full-length mirror in another top, I’m not so sure.

I have some unexpected insight into Richard and why he might not have wanted a genie anymore. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.

Can I pawn him off on someone else? Would Em agree to that? How would Eugene feel?

“Eugene, how have you gotten all your new masters?” I ask.

Eugene looks away from the TV. I’m not sure if it’s because he wants to or if he has to. “I don’t understand your question.”

“What I mean is, we became your masters because Richard brought you into Rags to Ritzy. Does it always happen like that?”

“Ah, I see. Abandonment is fairly common. The other ways are inheritance, being sold, being gifted. And sometimes, though it’s rare, theft.”

“It’s like you’re a piece of property,” Em gasps.

Eugene’s face is unreadable. He can’t be happy with the way things are.

“You must hate that,” I say.

“It’s what I am. There is nothing else.” He turns back to the show.

His attitude makes me think. If Dad had left before I was born or too small to remember, my life would just be what it is. But because I was older and had experienced something else, something better, I know there are other options when it comes to family. And there might be other options for Eugene.

I take the remote gently from him and hit mute. “Doesn’t any part of being a genie bother you?”

“Of course.”

“Like?” I want to understand him completely. I want to sympathize.

Eugene takes the remote back and I think he’s going to turn up the volume to mute me, but instead he shuts the TV off. He lays his hands on his knees, palms up and meditates for a moment before saying, “I’m worried that Richard is planning to make me his genie again. You both make me happier than any other masters.”

Although Eugene is addressing both of us, he looks at me with soft, warm eyes.

My heart cramps. Crap. If he wasn’t a genie, he could be my crush. The one who likes me for me, instead of one who likes what happens when we’re alone with the lights out. “We wouldn’t give you back to Richard. I would
never
allow that to happen. So stop worrying.” I smile at him, hoping it eases his mind.

“Right,” Em agrees, hitching her top every which way. “We like having you around, and Richard is yesterday’s news.”

“He is being very persistent.”

Huh?
“Persistent? How?”

“He follows us all the time.”

If I didn’t know better I’d swear Eugene had been nipping at Mom’s vodka. “I think you’re imagining that.”

“Genies don’t have an imagination,” he replies.

Goosebumps race across my arm because I know this is true and I suppose that I know he’s telling the truth about Richard, too.

“Well, I’ve never seen him,” Em quips, her eyes never leaving the mirror.

“He’s aging, but I know it’s him.”

When Eugene says this it hits me. The guy at the mall and in the guy car parked next to me at Zucarellis and the guy watching me fight with Mom. They were all Richard, looking slightly different each time, while looking the same. Then, I get an even scarier thought. I wonder if he’s been other places where I didn’t see him.

“Em, he’s right. I’ve seen him. We’re being stalked by an effing lunatic!”

She stops looking at herself in the mirror, apparently worried about something other than how her tops look with her new and improved boobs. “We’ll wish him away. It doesn’t have to be anywhere bad. Where would he like to go, Eugene? On a nice, long vacation?”

This is one of those times when Em’s calm logic is wonderful, because, to be honest, I was feeling a little nervous.

“I can’t do that,” Eugene says while studying his palms, the tools of his magic.

“Why not?” Em asks.

“A rule. No granting wishes involving former masters. It keeps genies and their masters much safer.”

“So how do we stop him?” I ask.

Eugene shrugs. “I’m not sure. It’s never happened to me before.”

Em leaves the mirror and walks over to her bed, kneeling on top of it. She pries the blinds opens with her fingers and peeks through the slats. “Is that him?”

Eugene and I kneel next to her. Through the blinds I spy the Gran Fury parked at her curb.

“That’s Dick,” Eugene quips in an attempt at humor.

Neither Em or I laugh.

CHAPTER 28

I’M NOT SURE OUR FOREFATHERS could have ever envisioned the parking lot, massive crowds and attractions at an Orlando water park back when they were declaring our independence. Nonetheless, we plan to spend July 4
^th
at Neptune’s. even Eugene is into it after making it through the first visit safely.

We get to skip the line with our super-de-dooper annual pass‌—‌no wishing required‌—‌because otherwise this would’ve been a nightmare with all the howling kids. Em slings her teeny purse over her head, angled from shoulder to hip, and holds her beach towel in front of her. “I bet Nigel is working today. I mean it’s the fourth and it looks really crowded so they must need every hand on deck, and I mean, he’s almost always working anyway, or at least it seems like that…doesn’t it seem like that?”

I interrupt her babble. “Did you bring sunscreen?” Her purse is only large enough to hold her credit card, her Neptune’s annual pass, some cash, and her lip gloss.

When Em shakes her head, I toss a tube of SPF50 into my tote. Then, on second thought I toss in a bottle of the SPF70 stuff. It’s basically like wearing full clothes, but Eugene is extremely pale and I don’t know if genies can be harmed by ultraviolet light.

Inside the park we make a beeline for the beach, a huge sandy area with lounge chairs and umbrellas, which are permanently fixed into rows like desks at school. We all face one of two attractions: either the surf pool, which is packed with boogie boarders, or the landing area for the Tsunami, a slide that loops crazily. All day long we’ll hear the screams coming from that direction.

We find three chairs and two umbrellas close enough to Nigel’s lifeguard stand that Em will be able to spy on him and keep a drool going all day long. Nigel sees us and gives us a wave.

Em flutters back a girly hello. “Does it make me look totally desperate if I go over right away?”

I fan my towel out over the back of the chair and ease myself onto it carefully, squiggling my toes in the warm sand. Adjusting my sunglasses, I say, “go ahead. You know you want to.”

Em leaves her towel and purse on the chair two down and flounces over to Nigel. Eugene grins and sprawls on the chair between mine and Emily’s. That way we can offer some protection from stray water.

“What are you so happy about?” I ask him.

“Everything.”

“What everything?”

He sits up straight and bounces his leg. “You look‌—‌what is the word you use? Hot. In that swimsuit.” He wiggles his eyebrows, which on the Lenny Kravitz guitarist looked sexy, but Eugene keeps it real. And goofy.

Real goofy.

“Well then, I guess I’d better go cool off.” I stand up and pull down the edge of my bottoms, so my booty isn’t completely revealed.

After a quick splash in the surf pool, I return to our spot and both my friends have abandoned me. Where’d Eugene go? I glance over at the lifeguard stand, but Em’s not there anymore. Maybe she needed to cool off too, but that doesn’t explain Eugene’s disappearance.

I get a chill despite the summer sun and glance around, praying I don’t see anyone who looks like the magician.

The thing is I don’t. But I see something else that might be even stranger. Em is tucked under one of the thatched tiki huts that have chest-high tables where you can stand to eat quickly. She has a red slushy drink with an umbrella and she’s sipping from the straw. Next to her with a matching drink is the hottest guy I have ever seen. Ever. Anywhere. He doesn’t even look real, that’s how hot he is.

His chest and abs are perfectly carved, bronzy. Chiseled features. A broad smile with white teeth against his bronzy skin. Eyes that flash, but you can’t quite pin down the color‌—‌are they blue, green, gold or all three? The funny thing is he’s wearing the same board shorts as Eugene, but wear they hang and bag on our genie, these are snug, but not too tight in a very hubba-hubba way.

The weirdness doesn’t stop there. He and Em are chatting it up like they’re old friends. A few feet away an old guy watches them and begins to move toward them.

Is that the magician?

Just before the old guy gets to the table, the hunk leans forward and gives her a little peck on the cheek before walking off the old guy follows him and is joined by an old woman wearing a turban-thing. I watch the pair until they both get lost in the crowd over by the concession stand.
Whew! Paranoid much?
I can’t start thinking every old guy is Richard, it’ll make me crazy.