Becoming Jinn

Butterflies kick into gear as I realize the answer to my second question is yes. If only I knew the answer to the first.

 

Taking the stairs two at a time, I debate texting him back to ask. If it’s not an invitation, and I act like it was, my bug-eyed sunglasses won’t be enough to hide how mortified I’ll be for the rest of the summer. But if it is and I don’t reply …

 

I’ll just show up. That’s it. That way I don’t have to ask. If Nate still happens to be there, if I happen to run into him, I’ll let him talk first. Life is compromise, right?

 

I open my sparsely filled jewelry box and let my fingers graze over my A pendant. Have I really not worn it since my birthday? Before then, I could count on one hand the number of times it left my neck. Worse than feeling naked without it, I felt like I was missing a limb. I remove my infinity necklace and hook my A back around my neck. It no longer calms me the way it used to. In fact, since Nate mentioned it, it seems to have the opposite effect.

 

After brushing out my hair and putting on some lipstick, I pry open my dresser drawer and eye the red lace thong. I’m feeling bolder than usual, but not bold enough for that.

 

Leaving the thong where it is, I pull out the bra and finger the delicate lace. I have to admit, Yasmin has excellent conjuring skills. And good taste. I peel off my cardigan and T-shirt, slip on the bra, and top it with a light cotton V-necked sweater. The mirror on the back of my bedroom door shows a curvy version of myself thanks to the push-up bra that I don’t want to like but do. It also shows the bright red lace through the thin, white sweater. In an instant, I change the sweater to a deep jade green. Sure, I could have changed the bra to white but then it would no longer match the thong.

 

Nice try, Azra.

 

I’m in the hall when Samara’s voice spills through my mother’s closed bedroom door. “I know I’m early. But Laila’s at the mall with some girls from school, and I’m bored.”

 

Sounds about right, boredom being another Jinn trait and all.

 

“Just in time,” my mother says, “I’m trying to finish writing this spell. Want to help?”

 

“Pfft,” Samara says. “Me? What’s with the lack of confidence, Kalyssa? That’s certainly not the girl I remember. The one who spelled that nice policeman to forget the massive after-prom party that set the house on fire?”

 

My hand seizes the railing. There’s a spell to make someone forget? A spell my mother could use on Henry? A spell I should use on Henry? No, Azra, remember: Scarlett O’Hara plan. Think about that tomorrow. Which, right now, is easy to do since I’m actually less shocked by the idea that there’s a spell to make someone forget than that my mother threw a party. A party that set the house on fire. Is Samara speaking metaphorically?

 

“Led to my first time conjuring water,” Samara says, answering my question. “Ah, one of my top five nights ever.”

 

“That was a long time ago,” my mother says. “Powers fade.”

 

“Powers don’t fade unless you make them, Kal.”

 

“Not now, Sam.”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m not in the mood for one of your lectures on how I’m not living up to my duties. If that’s why you came early—”

 

“I wasn’t going to say anything of the sort,” Samara says, feigning innocence. “But since you’ve brought it up … just what do you think you’re doing with Azra?”

 

I release my grip on the handrail and inch closer to my mother’s door.

 

“How much have you told her?” Samara asks. “Maybe the rest of the girls aren’t ready, but they will be soon. I’m already dropping bread crumbs for Laila. We know Raina told Yasmin long ago. As for Azra, even I can admit she’s smarter than the rest of them, mine included, which means she’s more likely to get herself into trouble. She needs to know everything.”

 

So I’m not the only Nadira keeping secrets. Maybe hiding Henry isn’t my fault. Maybe it’s hereditary.

 

My mother inhales and exhales loudly. “You’re right. I know. She’s always been more like you than me. Skeptical, questioning—”

 

“That used to be you too, Kalyssa.”

 

“Precisely why I want her to have this time. You know how moody and withdrawn she’s been the past couple of years. I was hoping, just maybe, she’d have some fun, enjoy it, appreciate the good before learning the bad.”

 

“It doesn’t have to be bad,” Samara says. “It wasn’t for our parents or their parents. It can be that way again.”

 

“I thought we were talking about Azra.”

 

“We are. We’re talking about Azra and Laila and all of them. And us. I don’t know what it’s going to take for you to realize that.”

 

“You think I don’t miss the way things used to be as much as the rest of you? But I can’t, Sam. I can’t lose anything more.”

 

Samara’s voice lowers, and even with my ear pressed against the wood, I can’t hear what they’re saying. Maybe if I crack open the door, just a smidge … my hand reaches for the doorknob when all of a sudden a gust of wind rustles my hair.

 

“Oh my Janna!” Mina’s voice calls from behind me. “Is this … it is!”

 

I squeeze my eyes shut and drop my hand to my side. Opportunity missed. I turn around to see Mina in a gold sequin crop top and skintight white jeans wiggling my phone.

 

“The Adonis,” she says, one hand slapping her jutted hip. “Azra, you little vixen!”

 

“Shh,” I say, pushing her farther into my bedroom and pulling the door shut behind me.

 

“What?” asks Farrah, who’s wearing a matching silver sequin crop top and black jeggings.

 

Should have known Farrah would be here too. These two make my mom and Samara look like strangers.

 

Mina holds up the blurry photo of Nate I snapped while he was on a morning run. She must have backed out of the text message to my contacts.

 

“The dark-haired boy,” she says to Farrah. “He just asked Azra out on a date at the beach.” Mina faces me. “The question is, why are you still here?”

 

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