More photos of Jenny and me—Henry too—line the bottom of the box. I flip through, feeling selfish and guilty about not fighting more to grant Henry a wish. Or Lisa. I should have asked about Lisa. But as soon as my mind zeroed in on Zoe, all other thoughts disappeared.
I lie on my back and toss the contents of the box in the air. Before everything floats to the ground, I use my powers of levitation to create a memorabilia mobile.
I stare at the revolving photos and Hello Kitty playing cards until I fall asleep.
*
My arms have a rash. A red, blue, yellow, and white rash. One lick identifies it as candy necklace.
Crushed pastel mounds of the multicolored sugar dot my bed. I must have rolled over the brittle necklaces in my sleep. And the photographs. Fortunately, most of those survived unscathed. I flatten out the ones my body creased and return everything to the shoe box.
As I wipe the sleep—and sugar crystals—from my eyes, I check my phone. No new texts. Did I really expect there would be?
Downstairs, I fix myself a bowl of cereal. Eating while carrying the bowl into the living room, I almost choke on a pink heart marshmallow when I see my mother through the open front door.
What is she doing?
She’s on the sidewalk in front of our house alongside Henry’s mother. With Jenny gone, my mother’s need to socialize with Mrs. Carwyn dwindled. Socialize with, not be friends with. Though being friends with humans isn’t explicitly forbidden, there are reports of the Afrit punishing Jinn who become too entwined with a human, fearing we’ll slip up and let down our guard. Which is why my mother adheres to the caution against becoming too attached.
So what’s changed? The little hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The nonexistent crush, that’s what’s changed.
Watching (spying) through the front window, I make a mental note to search the cantamen for a spell to amplify one’s hearing. When the two of them start hugging, I dive into the couch and slurp the last of my cereal.
My mother strolls through the door, the contents of our mailbox in her hand. Upon seeing me, she hurries over and kisses the top of my head.
“Azra, you should have told me. Not that it would have changed my mind, but I’m so proud of you for wanting to help Henry and his family. I had no idea Mr. Carwyn’s been out of work so long.”
Out of work? Me neither.
She drops a pile of catalogs on the end table on her way into the kitchen. “Six months? That’s a long time. Poor Elyse.” My mother’s voice lowers to a whisper. “Apparently Mr. and Mrs. Carwyn have been fighting a lot. On the verge of separating, it sounds like. It’s affecting all of them, Henry and little Lisa too.”
The sugary milk churns in my stomach. The fries. That’s why Henry was so weird about the free fries. He thought I was pitying him.
Popping up from the couch, I’m ready to go to battle over Henry being my next practice candidate. We’re a lot alike, at least we used to be, which is why I don’t need research to know what Henry would wish for. He’d use his one wish to find a job for his father because his family is hurting, and because it might make them whole again, and because … because it’s the wish I’d make.
Oh … invested.
My mother pours coffee into two mugs and adds a cavity-inducing amount of sugar to each. She returns to the living room and gives one to me.
As I blow on the hot liquid, I debate asking my mother if I can switch to Mr. Carwyn. She’ll probably still say I’m too invested. But why can’t I just help Mr. Carwyn without invoking the circulus, without risking granting the wish I want to make, not the one he wants to make. If what I give him just happens to be what he or Henry would wish for, lucky coincidence, right?
I take a sip. “So, how can we help? Can’t be that hard to get Mr. Carwyn a job.”
Before she can respond, a feather tickles the back of my neck and Samara and Laila materialize on the staircase landing. And I burn my tongue on my coffee.
My mother didn’t tell me they were coming over. If past behavior is a predictor of future behavior, I guess I understand why.
“Perfect timing,” my mother says to Samara. “I could use your help. Azra’s confused, despite all her studying.”
That emphasis on all is definitely going to come back and bite me in the—
Ooh, cake … ice cream cake. My eyes follow the familiar white box my mother takes from Laila, whose past behavior is always an accurate predictor. She and Samara never show up without my favorite dessert from their local shop.
Closing the freezer door, my mother says, “Azra’s asking about the kitten clause.”
Laila drops her polka-dot tote bag on the couch. “What’s the kitten clause?”
I’m relieved that not even she knows what this is.
Samara hugs me from behind and purrs softly in my ear. “The tugging of the newbie’s heartstrings. In other words, the desire to use your freshly liberated magic to help humans. No surprise you’d feel it, Azra. Not all Jinn do.” She coughs, and under her breath so only I can hear, she says, “Raina, Yasmin.” She resumes in a normal tone, “You will too, Laila, dear, so listen up.”
Laila scrunches her delicate face. “But why even consider it? If we grant wishes for humans not assigned to us, can’t the Afrit tell?”
Samara tilts her head back and laughs. “Sometimes I think our little Jinn were switched at birth, Kal.” She tousles Laila’s hair as she moves next to my mother. “We’re not talking about granting wishes, babe. Because Janna forbid we choose our own wish candidates. The mighty Afrit are the only ones who could possibly know who deserves to benefit from our powers.”
“Sam,” my mother says.
Samara bows. “Apologies.” She turns to me. “I assume we’re talking about other things, Azra?”
I refill my coffee cup using my powers. “Yup, like this. Or like helping Henry’s dad get a job.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Henry? Your birthday suitor?”
“Stop. We’re friends, Lalla Sam.”