Fair Coin (6 page)

“Ephraim!” Jena called from a second-floor balcony.

“Jena?” He looked up the side of the house at her.

“You aren't leaving already?” she said.

Ephraim checked his watch. It was already ten, and it was a long bus ride home.

“I probably should head out,” he said.

“We didn't finish our dance,” Jena said. She leaned over the railing, and he was suddenly reminded of the drama club's production of
Romeo and Juliet
, freshman year. She'd been Juliet, of course. He'd played one of the soldiers who didn't even have a speaking part—a good thing, since he couldn't have remembered his lines in her presence.

“I'll call you?” Ephraim said.

“I guess that'll have to do.”

She turned to go back inside. He stared at her legs as she walked into the house. Just before she closed the door she waved and smiled shyly.

Ephraim reached the bus stop and discovered he'd missed the last bus by twenty minutes. He didn't know what to do—should he go back to Jena's house and beg someone for a ride? He could call his mother from a pay phone, or if he found Nathan maybe he could beg for a lift home while he apologized for being a crappy friend.

“Sucks, doesn't it?” A voice spoke from the bench behind him.

Ephraim turned and saw a shabbily dressed man sitting there. He couldn't make him out well in the dark, but the man had long greasy brown hair and a T-shirt that looked like it had once been white but was now gray and stained.

“Did the last bus go by?” Ephraim asked.

“Yup. Not your night, huh?”

Ephraim kicked the bus stop pole and considered his options. All he had in his pocket were two dollar bills for the bus.

Make that $2.25—and that extra quarter might make all the difference.

Ephraim pulled out the magic coin and considered his options. This was a frivolous wish, but it would be a good test of whether he even had any wishes left. And this was an emergency, after all. He had nothing to lose.

“I wish I hadn't missed the bus,” he whispered, self-conscious about the homeless man watching him. He tossed the coin but lost sight of it in the dark. All he saw was a quick flash in the light from a streetlamp before he heard it hit the sidewalk. “Crap,” he said.

He searched the ground frantically, but it wasn't where he thought it had fallen. If the coin had rolled even a short distance away, it would be difficult to spot at night. Ephraim was about to give up when the guy from the bench leaned over and picked something up—the quarter.

Ephraim eyed the coin, wondering if it was heating up and what the man might think of that. “Thanks, mister.” He approached the man, wrinkling his nose at the sour stench radiating from his grubby clothes.

The man squinted at the quarter and rubbed his grimy fingers over it. “Hmmm.” He raised it up to the light and turned it this way and that, pinched between thumb and index finger. When he saw the reverse side with the picture of Puerto Rico, he went “Hmmm” again.

Ephraim reached for the quarter. The man held it over Ephraim's open hand, poised to drop it. They locked eyes over the coin.

“Here you go, kid.” The man finally lowered the quarter into his palm and pressed it there with a finger.

Vertigo swept over Ephraim. His stomach felt like it was dropping away from him, and then he was fine.

The man let his hand go and staggered away. He let out a loud belch. He seemed dizzy and started knocking his knuckles against the side of his head.

Ephraim stepped back quickly in case the man threw up. He checked the coin in his hand. It was tails up.

Suddenly they were illuminated by twin beams of light coming up the street. The man straightened. “Looks like another bus is here,” he said.

Ephraim grinned with relief. There might not be a limit to the number of wishes he could make with the coin.

The bus stopped, and Ephraim climbed on. He fed his two dollars into the bill slot and took a seat at the front. The homeless man stepped into the bus too, and the doors closed with a whoosh.

“I don't have any money,” the man said.

The bus driver sighed. “You can't keep doing this, old fella. This is a business, not a charity.”

The homeless man turned to Ephraim. “I have to get home,” he said. “You brought me here.” His eyes were glassy and unfocused.

Ephraim pocketed his quarter. “Sorry,” he said. “I don't have enough change.”

“Change!” The homeless man chuckled to himself.

“You know this guy?” the driver asked.

“I don't know what he's talking about,” Ephraim said. “I only met him two minutes ago.”

“It's a real shame when someone gets like this. Well, what the hell,” the driver said. “I'll take you anyway.
I'm
not losing any money over it and this is my last run of the night.”

“This
is the last bus?” Ephraim said.

“Yup. I'm thirty minutes late—trouble with the doors earlier. But I always finish my route.” He shifted the bus into gear.

“Looks like it's your lucky night after all,” the homeless man said as he shuffled past Ephraim's seat.

Ephraim stared after him. The man remembered their conversation from before Ephraim's wish for the bus. Why? Up until now, no one but Ephraim had been aware of the changes. So what was different this time from all the previous times he'd used the coin? It was either the man or something Ephraim had done.

He heard the unmistakable sound of the man vomiting in the back of the bus, and a moment later the acidic odor wafted toward him.

“Swell.” The driver sighed. “That's what I get for being nice.”

Ephraim turned and looked out the window as the bus moved down dark, empty streets. He kept his hand curled protectively around the coin in his pocket the whole time.

Ephraim's mom wasn't home when he got back from the party. Instead of the lecture he'd expected for missing curfew, he found a note on the fridge telling him there were leftovers inside. It seemed she was back on the evening shift at the supermarket.

It bothered him that his wishes were causing unpredictable changes that he hadn't asked for. At least this time it had worked in his favor; because she wasn't home, his mother would never even know he'd been out so late, and he'd avoid spending the first two weeks of summer grounded. With the coin, it would be easy enough to put things right for his mother again. Or better yet, he could wish her into a job she might actually enjoy, one that paid more than her meager wages.

Ephraim hadn't eaten much at the party despite all his time near the snack table, so he nuked a plate of leftover meat loaf and mashed potatoes—a meal he didn't remember his mother cooking in the first place—and brought it to his room. As soon as he logged into his computer, an instant message from Nathan flashed on his screen with an accompanying tone that sounded wrong, distorted from usual. The last thing he needed was a busted sound card in his computer.

HEY. Where have you been?
Nathan typed.

The cursor blinked at Ephraim accusingly. So that
had
been Nathan at the window.

Ephraim leaned back as far as his desk chair would go and passed the magic coin from hand to hand. Deep down he'd hoped that it had made it easier on him, changing things with his last wish so Nathan wouldn't know anything about the party, the same way it had affected his mother. His only choice was to come clean and apologize; if he lied about the party now, he would only seem like even more of a jerk.

Come to think of it, Ephraim could just wish for Nathan to forget he'd ditched him for the party, couldn't he? Nathan wouldn't even notice. It would spare him hurt feelings, and Ephraim wouldn't have to deal with the problem more directly.

Ephraim clenched the coin in his fist. He slapped the quarter down next to the keyboard.

Sorry
, Ephraim typed.
I should have told you about the party earlier.

Nathan loved it whenever Ephraim admitted a mistake, but his gloating response took a long time to appear.

What party?
Nathan finally typed.

So he was going to make Ephraim work for this.

Jena invited me at the last minute. I should have mentioned it
.

You went to a party without me? At Jena's house?

I'm sorry
, Ephraim typed again.
It was a selfish thing to do.
He would have to say all the things Nathan wanted to hear.

I thought we were best friends.

“Ouch,” Ephraim said.
Of course we are. I just didn't want to push my luck when I got the invite. I wanted to ask if you could come…I will next time, I promise
.

Was Shelley there?
Nathan typed.

Ephraim didn't know why Nathan was playing dumb about the whole thing; he was fast losing his moral high ground. Nathan had seen Ephraim staring at him in the window just before he ran off, so he had to know he'd been spotted.

Yeah. She was in a bad mood, too.
He didn't feel like explaining why right then.

Bastard.

Ephraim was done playing this game—if he had come clean, then Nathan should too. He typed,
Stop pretending. I saw you there.

Where?

At the party. I saw you in the window.

Nathan didn't respond for a full minute.
I didn't even know about your stupid party. You really think I'm lame enough to follow you? How pitiful do you think I am? Never mind, I already know. THANKS.

Ephraim shook his head.
I saw you.

IT WASN'T ME.

As much as Nathan liked to prove Ephraim wrong, he hated to be caught in his own lies. But why was he keeping up this pretense? Trying to save a little embarrassment? Was it really possible that Ephraim's guilty conscience had made him think he saw Nathan's face at the window? Or maybe the coin had changed the way the evening had gone after all.

There was another option, one he'd considered before but still wasn't prepared to accept: there were two Nathans.

Whatever the case, Ephraim hadn't had to tell Nathan about the party at all. Now it was too late. He'd screwed up big time, and he wasn't sure what would make Nathan forgive him—aside from using the coin to smooth things over like they'd never happened.

Ephraim stared at the coin on his desk. Maybe it could help him out of this mess, after all.

Look.
Ephraim typed quickly before he could change his mind.
I have something to show you. Something that can change our lives.
He hesitated only a moment before hitting the enter key.

Nathan's anger was matched only by his insatiable curiosity. He let Ephraim wait a while before responding.
What?
he typed.

Meet me tomorrow morning. 11am at the park fountain
.

I'll think about it.
Nathan's name went gray as he signed off. The usual closing door noise that signaled a user leaving the chat sounded more like a steel door sliding shut, like the bars in a prison. Maybe the IM service had changed up their familiar audio files.

Ephraim tapped the magic coin against his keyboard nervously. He hoped he wasn't making a mistake bringing Nathan in on this.

Well, it was worth a shot to salvage their friendship, wasn't it? He had been miserable on his own at the party. He was used to sharing everything with Nathan; things were always more fun with his best friend around. They could really have a good time with this.

And if it didn't work, if Nathan didn't believe him, he could still wish the problem away. It was a win-win situation. Ephraim flipped the coin and grinned. When you had magic on your side, anything was possible.

Ephraim was late the next morning. The Number 8 bus had taken an entirely different route than the one he expected. He'd had to get off and sort out the new bus schedule. He finally figured out he needed to transfer to the Number 5, which had never gone anywhere near the park.

Ephraim had still beaten Nathan there, at least. The fountain and its surrounding plaza served as the centerpiece of Greystone Park. The small area was paved with cobblestones and ringed by tall hedges. The Memorial Fountain was situated in the middle, marking the exact center of the sprawling park grounds. No one had ever been able to tell him what it was memorializing, though.

A bronze figure of Atlas—the Greek Titan who carried the world on his shoulders—decorated the fountain, facing north. Instead of a globe, Atlas supported a large bronze basin from which water cascaded into the larger granite pool below. Quarters lined the bottom of it, glinting faintly in the clear water and morning sunlight.

Ephraim wondered how much he had contributed to the fountain over the years since he had started coming there as a boy. And now just one coin was granting all his wishes.

Cold water sprayed across Ephraim's face as he sat on the rim of the fountain, trailing one hand in the water. The homeless man from the night before wandered from around the fountain into view and stared hard at him. Ephraim tried his best to ignore him. He focused on the coins in the fountain and started adding them up in his head.

“Spare some change?” the man said. Ephraim glanced at him but looked away quickly. The man's face was lined with dirt, and even on this hot summer day he wore a knit cap over his lanky hair. He had on a soiled gray thermal shirt with the sleeves rolled up. There was a tear in the seam over his right shoulder. The man reeked. Dried vomit crusted the front of his shirt.

Ephraim pulled his backpack onto his lap and held onto it tight. The bottom of the bag had gotten wet, and he felt water seeping through his pants.

“Sorry, no,” Ephraim said. He stared at all the quarters on the bottom of the fountain. Why didn't the man just help himself?

“Hey! Get away from him!” Nathan came around the fountain from the other direction and glared at the bum.

“I'm just trying to get something to eat,” the man said.

Nathan leaned over and swept a cupped hand through the water, splashing the homeless man and getting a fair amount on Ephraim as well. “Never mind food. You need a shower!” Nathan shouted.

Ephraim had never seen Nathan act like this before—by default he was mild-mannered, shy unless you knew him, which came from being bullied himself his whole life. Ephraim wondered if Nathan was taking his anger at Ephraim out on the wrong person.

The homeless man scowled and shambled off.

“Nathan, was that really necessary?” Ephraim said. “He wasn't hurting anything. I was just going to ignore him.”

Nathan's camera flashed. “Heh. You wet yourself,” he said. Ephraim looked down; the crotch and inner thighs of his jeans were wet.

“It's just water from the fountain. Thanks to you.”

“Water. Sure it is.” Nathan checked the picture, nodded to himself, then sat down on the other side of Ephraim's backpack. “Hey,” Nathan said.

“Hey.”

Thus a hesitant truce was formed.

“So, this party. You were actually at Jena's house?” Nathan asked, with no trace of bitterness in his voice. “How was it?”

“It was fine,” Ephraim said.

“Did you get any action?”

“What?”

“Jena. Did you…you know.” Nathan shoved him. “Did you at least kiss her?”

“I could barely handle
talking
to her.”

“Chickenshit.”

“I couldn't even get her alone for more than a couple of minutes. Mary Shelley pulled her away.”

“There's a surprise. You know, if I'd been there I could have distracted the twins for you,” Nathan said. “It would have been a sacrifice, but I'd do anything for you.”

Ephraim sighed. “Because you're a better friend than I am.”

“Exactly.”

“You sure have mastered this whole guilt-tripping thing.”

“I learned it from my mother. She comes from a long line of Jewish women trained in the delicate art of manipulation.” Nathan shook his head. “So if you didn't get anywhere with her, what was the point in going?”

“I didn't say I didn't get
anywhere.
Jena did admit that she likes me,” Ephraim said. Even now, remembering the night before still made Ephraim happier than he'd ever felt.

“Duh. Everyone in school knows she has a crush on you.”

“I didn't know. She never showed any interest before.”

“You weren't paying attention, you were so focused on Mary. What made you change your mind about her?” Nathan asked.

“That's the difficult part to explain.
I
didn't change. Everything else did. But I'm the only one who remembers what things used to be like.”

“You're going to have to explain that.”

Now that Ephraim was faced with the prospect of sharing the magic coin, he wasn't sure he wanted to. Things were probably fine between them now.

But a promise was a promise.

Ephraim reached into his pocket and pulled out the coin. He was carrying it in a small Ziploc bag, to avoid making any more accidental wishes while holding it. He'd tested it—the coin needed to be in direct contact with his skin for him to use it.

Ephraim slid the coin onto his palm. He held the quarter up between his thumb and forefinger and showed it to Nathan.

“It's because of this,” Ephraim said.

Nathan frowned. “A quarter? What, get your allowance early this week?”

“It's not just a quarter. It…um. It grants wishes,” Ephraim said.

Nathan glanced into the fountain. “Come on. Haven't you grown out of that yet?”

“I'm serious. This isn't like tossing a coin into the fountain. I've made a bunch of wishes and they all came true.”
More or less.

Nathan crossed his arms. “Really. What did you wish for?”

Ephraim paused. He didn't want to admit what his mother had done to prompt the whole discovery. Nathan knew she had some problems, but Ephraim had kept the worst of it a secret. Now that she was normal, it would make his story even harder to accept if he tried to explain how she had been before.

“Like I said, I wished that Jena liked me.”

“Ephraim, Jena's liked you since forever.”

“That's what I'm saying. Before I made the wish, she wasn't interested in me. You just remember her liking me, because the wish made it happen.” He swallowed. “I've wished for other things too. Last night I missed the last bus, but I made a wish and then it came.”

“That's just a coincidence, or dumb luck. If you have a magic coin, why didn't you wish yourself straight home instead?” Nathan leaned over and plunged his arm into the water up to his short shirtsleeve. He grabbed a handful of coins and held them for a moment, before letting them cascade back into the water with a splash.

Ephraim stared at Nathan. That was a good point—that would have made a lot more sense, but he hadn't really been thinking clearly at the time.

“I'm still new at this, okay? Hey, I'm not joking.” Ephraim's voice rose. He hadn't thought it would be this hard to convince Nathan, but it had taken Ephraim a while to believe it when he was actually seeing what it could do.