Three Wishes (4 page)

“There you are,” he says. “I haven't seen you alone all day.” He sounds petulant.

“Oh, sorry about the phone last night! I meant to catch up with you earlier. I, um, needed to talk to my grandmother. So, what's up?”

“Yeah, well, uh. I… wanted to see how swimming is going for you so far this season.”

“Okay, it's fine. Though I felt kind of slow yesterday. It was… different. You know.”
Oh, I can't believe I just said that.

“Sure,” he says, though he sounds distracted and is staring at something outside the cafeteria windows.

“So, was there anything else?” I hint. “I think Leia's heading over.”

He lets out a deep breath. “Nope, nothing at all. Let's make sure we have a great swim season.”

“Rah, rah! Oh-kay!” I joke. I almost roll my eyes, but he seems a little down. Maybe he's nervous about our first meet, coming up in a few weeks. “I'm sure it'll be awesome. This is our senior year, after all. If you want, we could talk strategy with Coach Terri after our next practice.”

“Yes, good idea,” he enthuses. “I'll text her later to let her know.”

Joel leaves and Leia arrives. Before she even sits down, she lectures, “Listen — I'm not going to let it go, whatever happened in French earlier, and I want to hear an explanation.” She pauses. “But what was happening there with Joel?”

“Nothing. He just asked me about how swimming is going so far.”

“It looked pretty serious. Are you sure that's all?”

“Ye-e-s.” Then I give her a big, toothy smile. “Though I think he's the only guy who's not noticing me, you know,
that way
today. Jesse Guillet sent me a note in class asking if I was going to his party this weekend. Nick Mannion shared his potato chips with me. Is it bizarro that I'm excited to know girls are making jealous comments behind my back?”

Leia shakes her head.

“Good. I'm starting to like this.” I feel weird talking about Pete's possible wink at me, in case I got it wrong, so I leave that part out.

“No kidding, lady. Because you're smokin' hot. And all the other hot girls in this school are totally… well, awful. Besides, it's not only your body — you also have kind of a glow about you. Even your hair. It's different.”

“Yeah. It's not frizzy anymore — it's, like, wavy for a nice change.” I have even been able to wear it down, instead of in my typical boring bun.

She reaches out and strokes my hair thoughtfully. “Maybe it's, I don't know, a happiness vibe? Or hormones? Have you figured out yet what's going on?”

“Well, my grandmother told me it's something that happens to the women in my mom's family. They, um, mature right at seventeen-and-a-half.”

“Seventeen-and-a-half? Random. And why would it mean you're drop-dead gorgeous all of a sudden?” I blush a little at her words.

“I know, I know.” I get vague, adding, “It's a French thing, I guess.” Blaming stuff like this on being French often helps me get away with a lot. Plus, I don't yet know much, myself, so I'm not quite lying to her. “So, can you stop petting me, please?”

“Oops, sorry. Well, whatever it is, don't let this go to waste. You've got to take advantage of this situation.”

“Well, it's not going to go away, so I'm not in any hurry.”

“You might not be in a hurry, but I think Pete is.”

Pete, my super-hot, never-in-a-million years, decade-long secret crush, is bearing down on us. My heart's about to explode, and I put my PB&J down before I choke on it. I look down at my lap so I don't have to meet Leia's eyes. “Hey, Bean — Genie,” he says, nodding also at Leia. “Did you start your
Crime and Punishment
essay?”

“Still working on it,” I answer, my voice shaking a little. This is, literally, the first time I've ever exchanged words with him. I can't even believe he knows my name, though we have had English together for the past four years. “We've got until next Friday.”

He shakes the sandy-colored hair out of his eyes. “True, true, but I was thinking, do you want to study together, maybe get some coffee Saturday afternoon? You have great, uh, notes.”

Again with the eyes flicking downward!
Flattering, but somehow unsettling at the same time. I glance over at Leia and see she had noticed the same thing. She gives me a sidelong glance and purses her lips.

“Who's buying the coffee?” Leia asks him. “Is this, like, a date?” She's so direct it's embarrassing. But I want to hear his response.

“A study date? If, you know, if that's okay.” Pete ducks his head and glances to me with silent appeal. I'm dazzled, overwhelmed by his interest. He's so flipping hot, tall and blue-eyed, with a smattering of freckles and just the right amount of lean muscle. Last year, he tore his ACL, ending his star basketball career, but he's smart enough to get into college anyway. And so yummy he doesn't need sports to be popular. He's been voted
Best Looking
in every yearbook since ninth grade, even beating out seniors for the spot.

“Sounds fine to me. I'll meet you at Perk-a-Brew on Saturday at two o'clock?” I say.
Whoa, Nellie.
Maybe confidence came with my transformation.

“Great,” he says, releasing a breath like he had been holding it. “See you Saturday. Oh, and see you in class later. Bye, Genie. Bye, uh, Leia.” He strolls back to his table, where his friends have been watching us. A few of the guys give him high fives. It almost makes me suspect that his asking me out was because of some kind of dare.

“What was
that
?” Leia raises her eyebrows to me, and I grin back. Whatever the situation, nothing will keep me from sitting shoulder-to-shoulder for a couple of hours with Pete this weekend. But I hold my palms out to her in surrender, not able to discuss.

“Anyway, I want to talk about what happened in French,” she says again, but the bell rings and I am saved from having to answer. Leia knows my next class is at the far end of the school, and I have to hurry to reach it in time, so I shrug an apology and rush off. “Later,” she warns, calling after me.

I am still in a bit of a daze, taking in how different it is being me today, and I remain distracted throughout the rest of the day. Nothing else unusual happens, though Pete rewards me with a big smile and a thumbs-up during English, our last class. I sit next to Leia but again manage to keep from getting into a real conversation with her. As soon as the final bell rings at two-thirty, she grabs my arm and mutters in my ear, “Okay, tell me what, exactly, is going on?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” I say. I have decided on a simple strategy — play dumb.

“C'mon. How did your French folder magically appear in your hand? What's up with that?” she demands.

“What do you mean? Leia, I found it in my backpack at the last minute,” I protest. I hate lying to her, but I am not yet ready to tell her the full story. “You didn't see me pull it out.”

“I don't think so,” she shakes her head as we reach my car. Luke sees us at a distance and peels off from his popular group to join us.

“Hey, ladies. What's up?” he says, sauntering in our direction. “Uh, is something wrong?” I guess he can tell there is some tension between us. We all climb in, Leia in the back.

“Leia thinks I've been doing magic in French class,” I giggle as I drive out of the lot.

“Her folder appeared in her hand, right before my eyes. It wasn't there, and then it was! I am not making this up,” she states. Luke looks from her to me and back.

“I took it out of my backpack with my other hand!” I protest.

“Leia, come on. It sounds nuts,” he says. I can tell he is reluctant to take my side over his sister's, but he also sees my point that it's a pretty far-fetched story. At last, rationality wins, and he says, “This is ridiculous. You girls are so weird.”

“I know what I saw. I'm not stupid, and I'm not hallucinating. And you—” she stabs her finger in my direction “—are keeping something from me.”

I let out a deep sigh, feeling awful for prolonging the mystery, but still say, “Whatever, Leia. Imagine what you like.” I simply
can't
figure out how to tell her yet, and I'm not going to tell her in front of Luke.

I watch Leia in the rear-view mirror. With a sour face to me, she stares out the window. We all are silent for the rest of the drive, save the sound of Queen's “Bohemian Rhapsody” playing in the background.

“Bye, guys,” I say when I drop them off. They both grunt a goodbye while getting out of the car. Leia slams the door, extra hard.

Ugh.
Thank goodness we don't have swim practice on Wednesdays. I have too much to think about. I park on the street and haul my heavy backpack full of homework into the house.

I don't wish to be everything to everyone, but I would like to be something to someone. — Ali Javan

It's quiet, and the house has a somber feel. After I dump my bag at the base of the stairs, I sit with a mug of steaming decaf and stare at a book sitting in the middle of the kitchen table. It's small and beautifully crafted, with handmade pages and a watercolor of deep-blue ocean on the cover.
Read me,
says a note lying next to it. A gust of wind from somewhere ruffles its pages, like someone is thumbing through it. Disconcerted, I hesitate then take the book and my drink and head upstairs.

My Diary
is written on the first page, but it's blank inside. Shaking my head in annoyance, I'm trying to figure out what in the world I'm supposed to do with this thing. I leaf through each page, making sure I'm not missing anything, and hold it by the covers and tap the back to see if anything falls out. Nope,
nada
. I guess it's just a book for me to record my innermost thoughts? Perhaps my grandparents thought it would be helpful for my mental health, as I cope with the surprise of who — what? — I am.

Sighing, I decide to play along and pick up a pen and write, “I wish I could figure out what this book is for.” To my surprise, several pages fill with handwriting only vaguely familiar to me.
My Diary
has now changed to
Diary of Geneviève (de la Bouteille) Lowry
. My mother's name. The plot thickens.

I am writing this for you, my sweet baby — the little nugget, which even now grows within me. This diary is meant to give you more knowledge of my past and a better understanding of your own life. If you are reading this,
ma chérie
, it must mean I am gone. I have left this behind for you to start reading when you turn
seventeen-and-a-half
.

I feel a glow from you, powerful already, so I think you are one of my kind and not human like your father. But I am not there to find out for sure. For you to have unlocked the secrets of this diary means you made a wish to be able to read it. Without your wish power, this would be a beautiful, blank book for you to fill with your own, purely human story.

Congratulations, my dearest one!

I know you'll be a girl. Your father and I have decided to name you Eugénie. A sweet French name. Will you choose to be called Genie, not realizing why your father and I picked that name for you? I wish I had been there in person to see you blossom into your full self. You have many questions, I'm sure, about what is happening to you. I hope your grandparents already shared with you the genie poem:

Those who wonder about genie
Must comprehend the rules of three.

At birth the child is like the rest
Though soon she will go through a test.

Year three do give her books, and heed
Because she will now learn to read.

At six her true intelligence starts
With great talent, most so in art.

From nine to twelve her body morphs
To Amazon from tiny dwarf.

Fifteen her strength is on display
Athlete, scholar, she's on her way.

When seventeen point five her curves do grow
By eighteen full powers she will know.

At twenty-one the training is done
Her true adulthood has begun.

By twenty-four she settles down
With a mate her mother has found.

At age twenty-seven is when
Her fertility comes to an end.

She'll never age past thirty-three
If with a master she will always be.

In the 333rd year everyone knows
A genie's life will come to a close.

Between
seventeen-and-a-half
and eighteen, you will continue growing into your powers and will be able to start making wishes come true. Reading this poem, you may recognize some things about yourself: how you have developed throughout the years, and how you will continue to change. I shall share with you my own story, as well. Reading this diary should help you understand more about what is happening to you.

Forgive me for not sharing with you my people — our people. First of all, you should know I asked — even begged — your grandparents to keep you in the dark about my heritage. Do not be angry with them for keeping such secrets all of these years. It is for your own safety. But I'll explain more to you further into the story.

So… you are
seventeen-and-a-half
. And so was I, just over a year ago. I knew to anticipate the new body. It didn't surprise me the way it probably has you. I know humans don't experience such rapid physical changes.

And unlike all of the old stories, we genies find our own masters, not the other way around. To realize our full genie power, we need to have a master by age eighteen.