My body tenses from pinky toe to earlobe. Nate must feel it because he starts to release my hand, but I tighten my grip, interlacing my fingers with his. I savor the lightning bolt jolt that comes as he guides me through the dark, down the long empty beach, and over the dunes.
Before this, the last hand I held was Lisa’s. It was wet and sticky. I was desperate to let go. Not the case with Nate. Our fingers are still intertwined when we reach the ranger’s office. The first-aid kits are lined up on the table in the center of the room.
Nate stacks the plastic boxes in the metal cabinet. “I was making sure everything was stocked up. No one thinks to replace what they take.”
I hand him the last one. “You’re into this, aren’t you?”
Nate’s smile is slight, almost shy. “I’m a medical-show junkie. Always have been.”
“You’re okay with blood, then?” My mother has healed me so fast my entire life, I’m not even all that comfortable with a blister.
Nate bobs his head. “I think so. If I’m helping somebody, it’d be okay.”
“I assume one day I’ll be calling you Dr. Nate?”
He laughs softly. “Nah. Sports trainer. Maybe a paramedic. Not a doctor.”
“Why not?”
“That’s a lot of school. I … I don’t think people see me that way.”
“What way?”
“You know, smart. My guidance counselor talks to me about lacrosse scholarships, not academic ones.”
It surprises me that Nate sounds so unsure of himself. Based solely on outside appearances, it would be Henry, not Nate, one would expect to be lacking in the confidence department. But Henry exudes confidence while Nate seems almost insecure.
I hesitate before saying, “I think if you’re lucky enough to have control of your destiny, you should take it.”
Nate nods, slowly. “You’re nothing like I imagined, Azra.”
Nate’s imagined something about me?
“Yeah, well, I guess Chelsea’s not my biggest fan.”
“She’s just jealous. Practically half the guys in school want to ask you out, but they’re too afraid.”
Afraid? Want to ask me out? Suddenly I fear Nate’s a mirage after all.
“Right, I’ve got so many dates, I need two calendars,” I say sarcastically.
“You really don’t know? Your whole aloof thing isn’t intentional? Guys have been watching you all year, too scared to approach because of your … your vibe. Me, I figured if I kept bugging you to refill my water bottle, maybe eventually I’d break through.”
I laugh and shake my head.
“I’m serious.” He places a hand on his stomach. “I have never peed so much in my life as I have this summer.”
From the “aloof” comment to the image of Nate’s bursting bladder, there’s so much here I can’t wrap my head around. “But I’m not … I’ve never been popular. With the ‘in’ crowd.”
“That’s because you don’t want to be. But considering how good the summer’s been to you, next year, you may not have a choice.” Nate touches the ends of my hair, which fall past my shoulders. “I really do like it this way. Especially with your old necklace.”
As he touches my A his fingertips graze my throat, and again my skin prickles. Who needs to feel calm when the alternative is this?
Nate closes the cabinet and locks the office door. We walk to the bike rack together. And this is where the inevitable lies to Nate begin.
“Oh, I walked,” I say.
“But your house must be as far as mine.”
I look away so I don’t have to lie to his face. “More time away from my family thing. I needed a break.”
Though I should app to save time, Nate’s adamant that it’s too dark for me to walk home alone. I climb onto his handlebars, which naturally he thinks is too dangerous. It’s only when I say my mother’s expecting me that he secures his helmet on my head and starts pedaling.
The ends of my long hair whipping around my face, Nate’s warm breath on my neck, the single beam of the bike’s front light revealing only a few feet of the path ahead, I forget anyone might be waiting for me at home.
But no one at home has forgotten me. When Nate and I roll up to the curb in front of my house, two doors open, one across the street from the other.
On one side, out comes my mother, Samara, Nadia, Laila, and Hana. On the other, out comes Henry.
Taking in the five beautiful Jinn heading down the front sidewalk, Nate’s jaw drops.
I take off the helmet and hand it to him. “Aunts. And cousins.”
“I see the resemblance,” Nate says.
Henry stays on his front steps. Nate waves to him.
“Well, there she is,” Henry says loudly, looking at my mother. “She’s not lost, then.”
Oh, but I am. Totally lost.
21
Not even the rain pelting my mother’s windshield bothers me. Working at the beach in gloomy weather translates into a long, cold, boring day. But the idea of seeing Nate again supersedes anything Mother Nature could hurl at me. Hurricane, cyclone, tsunami, bring it on.
Illusion or delusion, being with Nate makes me feel less like a Jinn. When this drive ends, I’ll get to spend the day shivering in the concession stand, waiting for beachgoers who will not show, pretending I’m nothing but the hot-dog girl.
We arrive at the beach. I pop the door latch, ready to escape the car that traps me as a Jinn, when my mother says, “You and I need to talk.”
“Mom,” I groan, “I’ll be late.”
The rain beats against the glass.
“Probably not going to be a rush for fries today,” she jokes. She then shifts in her seat to face me. “Listen, I know the transition hasn’t been easy, but I need to make sure you’re being careful around the humans. Henry, and now Nate—”
“I thought you wanted me to have friends? To go out and do things?”
“I did.” She shuts off the car. “I do. But you know how important it is that you bond with your Zar sisters, and since you seem to be getting along better with them, I just thought maybe…”
No, no, no. I’ve done everything she’s asked lately. Please don’t let her ask this of me.
“Mom,” I say softly. I owe her the truth. “You don’t have to worry.” Part, not whole, but still the truth.