I Wish (12 page)

“I’ll be promoted to the principal level. The tasks are more difficult, and I won’t require supervision.” His lips curved slightly. “I’ve asked for a job in situational security.”

“Huh?”

A full laugh. “You know it better as guardian angel.”

I tried to imagine him with wings and a sword and couldn’t do it. “Will you get to use magic when you’re a guardian angel?”

“I use my powers at present. I just don’t use them for you.”

His pleasure in reminding me was annoying. “Why do you have the
humanly possible
rule?”

“Our goal is to assist people in solving real problems, not to make them rich or beautiful, but humans couldn’t grasp that. They wanted income without working or plastic surgery without the consequences. When Beings suggested establishing guidelines, our leaders agreed. However, to ensure that we truly make a difference with our assignments, they changed several policies. For instance, when they narrowed the types of wishes that can be granted, they increased the allotment to thirty.”

“Yay for me.” Sounded like a good plan—unless the problem was how poor we were. “Why don’t you just use the title of genie? Why not call yourselves what humans expect?”

“Very few apprentices fulfill wishes. It is not typical for a Being at the apprentice level to choose such extended exposure to the same human.” He frowned. “Overall, Benevolent Supernatural Being feels more descriptive of our mission. It implies our unity.”

Right. I wonder if BSBs included the tooth fairy? I’d take her leftover change. “Did you know ‘genie’ comes from the same Latin word as ‘genius?’”

“Fits, don’t you think?”

I refused to be sidetracked. “I looked up ‘genie’ on Wikipedia.”

“Ah. The collective wisdom of humankind.” He relaxed against his chair, cupped his hands behind his head, and gave me a satisfied grin.

“It says ‘genie’ means a ‘spirit or magical being.’”

“True.”

“It can also be the English translation of the Arabic word ‘jinni,’ which are hidden spirits who can be good or bad.”

He grunted.

“So which are you?”

He popped up straight in his chair, the relaxed posture gone. “Truly, Chief, this is a pointless exercise. I’ve arrived to grant you a month’s worth of wishes. Any further labels are unnecessary.”

It was an impatient response for him, but one phrase in particular stood out. “What do you mean you
arrived
? I
found
you.”

“It has been my experience that I arrive at the precise moment when someone needs me.”

Grant’s appearance was planned? Not likely. Too many things had come together. The money. The candlesticks. Madame Noir. The music box. If any one of those things had been left out, Grant and I would’ve never met. “Are you sure that I didn’t just stumble across you?”

“There are no coincidences.” He looked away, as if bored.

Wow. Didn’t want to pursue that. “What do you do between your gigs?”

“Between
assignments
, I attend training, visit with other Beings, and read nonfiction, primarily human psychology.”

I tried not to smile. “You don’t understand us automatically?”

“Not at all. I find humans to be illogical.” His gaze snapped to mine. “Fortunately, I expect you to be my last such assignment.”

“The promotion?”

“Yes.”

“What do you still need to learn?”

He half-smiled. “In order to be an effective servant, a Being must understand the spectrum of human emotions. The League has designated fourteen basic emotions in which we must be proficient before qualifying for the principal level. I lack three for promotion.”

“Which emotions are you missing?”

The smile disappeared as his gaze left mine. “Generosity, empathy, and judgment. Or—” His lips pressed together.

“Is there a fourth?”

Faint color rose in his cheeks. “There is a wildcard emotion.”

“What is it?”

“Love.” He averted his face. “If we experience human love, we may trade it for three of the basics.”

“So love is like a shortcut to promotion?” At his nod, I said, “That sounds like a good option.”

He grunted. “Not at all. Most Beings are intimidated by the thought of human love. It is too…”

“Complicated?”

“Painful.”

I couldn’t argue with that. “Is the principal level the highest you can go?”

He shook his head. “There is another. It is quite elite. You must be chosen.”

“What’s it called?”

“I don’t know. Only members know its name.”

“Do you aspire to the level with no name?”

Something determined flashed briefly in his eyes, but his response was carefully mild. “Perhaps.”

The conversation ebbed while I finished my share of the ice cream. Grant kept watch over the shop, presumably getting in some early practice on guardian techniques.

He pounced the very second the last drop passed my lips. “What do you aspire to?”

“In a career?”

He nodded.

“I’d like to own a small business one day.”

“What type of business?”

“Graphic design, maybe.” I shrugged to make the answer sound more casual than it was. “I’d like to make things that are pretty and useful.”

“So you don’t plan to follow your father’s lead?”

“Into the military? No.” I frowned, not sure whether to be uneasy with where these questions were headed.

“Were you close to your father?”

“Yeah. Real close.” I put down my spoon and inspected the chrome top of our little round table. “He had custody of me.”

“If he was in the Marine Corps, how could that work?”

“Probably like any single parent. I was in daycare when he was working at the base. And if he was busy somewhere out of town, either my mom or grandparents had me.” I looked out the window, not really seeing anything. Grant’s question had dredged up memories of my father, like a digital photo album of disconnected images.

Sitting next to Dad on a picnic table.

Washing his truck.

Lying on a towel at the beach.

My father had been a lot of fun. “I don’t think he was gone often, because my memories of him from back then are so strong. I wasn’t anxious or concerned. I knew when to expect him, and he always showed up.” Until he didn’t. But I wouldn’t go there.

“When did your parents divorce?”

“They never married.” I’d been a surprise to my parents from the beginning. “Dad was stationed in Jacksonville. When Mom found out she was pregnant, she moved in with him. After I was born, they continued to live together, but it didn’t work out. They both agreed that Dad was better prepared to be a single parent than Mom. So when she moved back to Magnolia Grove, I stayed with him at Camp Lejeune.” My gaze took in my brother, talking intensely with his friend while Reynolds’s parents watched, smiling proudly.

Even though my parents and I hadn’t been the typical kind of family, we’d found a way to be happy. It always felt right. I could still remember the handoffs on Friday and Sunday nights. It had been exciting, like I got to live in two exclusive overnight camps. Dad had a tent in his living room. Fort Lacey. And Mom, not to be outdone, had pulled out her sewing machine and decorated the most incredible bedroom for me, with a matching lavender satin quilt, pillowcases, and curtains.

It had been perfect. Two parental moons orbiting planet Lacey.

“I’m surprised your grandparents haven’t offered to help you.”

“They don’t know what’s going on.”

“Of course not. You are determined to reject all charity, even if your family suffers.”

Wow. Where had that come from? It had been a nice conversation until that attack. His comment had been perfectly designed to transform my overly sensitive feelings to something stinging and raw. “Maybe you could give me some pointers. You’re the expert at using people.”

“Pardon me?”

How dare he ruin my one calm afternoon? After a bad night, Henry’s clothes, and the tingling gratitude, I needed a break from emotion. Was it too much to expect that Grant would hold off on judging me for thirty whole minutes? “You’re a fake. We both know my problems aren’t the real reason you’ve shown up.”

His face tightened. “Not true.”

“Don’t bother acting like you care. Humans are just tools for you—the next rung in your supernatural career ladder.”

“You are quite wrong.” His gaze flicked over my shoulder and returned to me. “We’ll have to continue this conversation another time. Someone is headed our way.”

I clamped my lips together and frowned at the table. A chair scraped beside me.

“Hi,” Kimberley said.

I tried to smile. “Hi. Are you here with your mom?”

“Yeah, she’s standing in line.”

I glanced over my shoulder to find Mrs. Rey watching us. When I waved, she waved back. I turned around to find Kimberley staring fixedly at my BSB.

“I don’t remember you mentioning that you’re dating someone,” she said.

“We’re not dating.”

“You argue like people who date.”

“Kimberley, this is my
friend
, Grant.”

“I am her employee,” Grant said in his stiff, British accent.

My head whipped around so quickly that a pain shot down my neck. “Employee?” I hated that word. It sounded so impersonal. “That isn’t the right word.”

His eyes narrowed on me. “Neither is friend.”

Wow. That stung.

“Then what is the right word?” Kimberley asked, her face eager.

He turned his attention on her. “Perhaps helper.”

“What do you do to help Lacey?”

“Whatever she wishes.”

I had to grit my teeth to keep from saying something I would regret.

“Do you have a specialty, Grant?”

I snorted. “He’s good at everything. Just ask him.”

Her gaze didn’t waver from his face. “If you’re good at everything, you must be expensive.”

“Indeed not. I don’t charge her family.”

Kimberley smiled. “I need free help. Can you come to my house next?”

He shook his head. “I’m not sure of my schedule.”

She looked at me. “When will he be done?”

“Soon.” Why had this afternoon gone wrong? It had been so nice. So fun. So
friendly
.

Kimberley stood and patted me on the shoulder. “I have to leave now, and I left my tablet in the car. Can you remind me later of all the stuff we said?”

“Sure.” I shot a steely-eyed glance at Grant. “I won’t forget.”

Status Report #10
Sunday’s Wish: Repair Henry’s Clothing

Dear Boss,

It was an unusually long day.

When I asked to borrow the sewing machine, Chief’s mother volunteered to do the stitching. We spent the evening turning old clothes into shorts and jeans for Henry.

I can barely contain my desire to help Crystal. She has confided her despair over losing her husband. Perhaps I have gained some influence with her. Since Chief won’t permit me to seek assistance for Crystal, may I intervene on my own? I would keep my efforts to humanly possible actions, if you think that best.

I hoped there would be a positive change in our relationship when Chief treated me to vanilla ice cream. Her face as she remembered her father was lovely to behold. Yet what began as a pleasant conversation was ruined by her theories about my motivation.

It is maddening. A fake, indeed. My interest in humans is genuine. She is utterly mistaken.

Humbly submitted,
Grant

M
s. Dewan stopped me as I was leaving second period and asked me to drop by her room after school. She did not look happy.

So here I was. She still looked grim. “You can do better work than this, Lacey,” she said, slapping my last assignment on the desk.

Her razor-sharp disapproval sliced through me. I stared at the paper, not touching it, not meeting her eyes. “I don’t know what you mean. It’s a C.”

“You are capable of A-quality work.” She nudged the sheet closer to me. “Lacey,” she said, her voice softening, “you’re a phenomenal writer. What’s going on?”

I’d never gotten a C before on a major assignment. I hated that it had happened now, but I couldn’t help it. I’d worked most nights last week. It was hard to get to the county library since they closed at nine. I’d done the best I could, considering I lacked the necessary research, time, and sources. However, I wouldn’t explain any of this, because one explanation would lead to another. Something private might slip out, and Ms. Dewan might try to intervene. I couldn’t trust her to treat my secrets the way I wanted them handled. So I answered her with a shrug.

Her lips pinched. “You’re doing well enough to pass this class, but more marks like this will affect your final grade.”

“Okay.” I picked up the paper and slid it into my backpack.

“That’s all you have to say?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s not good enough for me.” She leaned forward, searching my face. “It’s not like you to do so poorly on a writing assignment. Is there something going on that I need to know about? Something I can do to help you?”

I could think of several things. She could cut me some slack. She could find me some family assistance that wasn’t official. She could wave a magical wand and make Piedmont College more affordable. “No, ma’am.”

“Lacey, it’s too soon to lose your intensity. You won’t impress competitive universities unless you keep your grades up.”

This was my second year of English with Ms. Dewan. I’d watched her enough to know that she was one of those teachers who really cared, but today, it was getting in the way. I would tell her as little of the story as I could, just enough to keep her from bugging me about it for the rest of the semester. “My grades are fine for community college.”

“What?” Her eyes widened. “I thought you had your sights set on William & Mary.”

Not a chance after this weekend. I couldn’t be a four-hour drive away from here. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Why? You could easily qualify for the best four-year schools.” She gave me a pained look. “Is it the money? Because if it is, there are millions of scholarships out there. I could help you find some.”

“It’s not the money.” When Dad died, his life insurance policy turned into my college fund. He’d known Mom well enough to tie up the funds so they could only be spent on education. The amount would cover the out-of-state tuition of a school like William & Mary but not somewhere as expensive as Piedmont.