“Isa wouldn’t,” Samara says. “She refused. Rightfully so.”
So I’m guessing erasing memories of a house-blazing after-prom party is on par with wiping away one afternoon? Were they joking then? Or are they just trying to scare me now so I don’t use the spell to, oh, I don’t know, make Henry forget he ever met Chelsea?
“But they broke up,” I say, deciding not to ask about the party. If I ask, they’ll know I eavesdropped, which will make it harder to do again. “How did Lalla Isa know he wouldn’t tell?”
Samara’s deep laugh reverberates off the cabinets. “The three cars and the mansion in South Beach. Plus, if he opened his mouth she’s got that fake video of him with a hooker.” Samara looks at me. “He’s a state senator. The hooker is your Lalla Jada in disguise but the ruse never went far enough for him to figure that out.”
“Blackmail,” I say. “Would have thought that’d work the other way around.”
My mother shakes her head. “Security, perhaps, not blackmail. Because Sam knows full well the real reason he keeps Isa’s secret is because he loved her. He still does.”
Samara loops around to my side of the table and lifts me out of the chair. “How long has your little loverboy known?”
“He’s not my—” I stop, thinking maybe this, combined with my Scarlett O’Hara plan, will actually help my cause. “Weeks.”
“Weeks?” my mother repeats.
Samara nudges my chin upward. “You trust him?”
“As much as I trust you, Lalla Sam.” Looking at my mother, I add, “He swore on Lisa’s life, Mom.”
She tears up as I say this. Samara goes to her, gently wrapping her arm around my mother’s shoulder. “Let her have him, Kal. Who knows? Maybe things won’t always be this way.”
A chill runs through me as Samara hugs me good-bye. I cling to her, waiting for the comfort her apricot-scented embraces always provide to come. But it doesn’t. All that’s there is the fruity smell.
Apparently, my magic isn’t the only thing this bronze contraption can take away.
25
The noxious odor causes my eyes to water. I’m mopping up sewage from an overflowed toilet, humming this new song I just heard on the radio. Even the putrid smell doesn’t make me want to return to the stale air of my bedroom that I’ve been stuck breathing in for the past week.
My mother grounded me, forbidding me from leaving the house for all purposes, including work. Today’s my first day back, thanks to Nate. Somehow he made sure I had a job to return to. That they gave my snack bar shifts to the new girl and saddled me with bathroom attendant duties doesn’t even matter.
Wringing out the mop, I force back bile. Okay, so it matters a little.
Still, I’m here. Nate’s working. Henry said he’d stop by. Even seeing Chelsea can’t bother me today.
Back at the desk at the front of the women’s restrooms, I strip off my two pairs of gloves and kick off the work boots I borrowed from Ranger Teddy’s office. I agreed to clean up the mess, but there was no way I was wading through that cesspool in flip-flops. I text Henry my locale and stare out the tiny holes in the screen door, waiting for him to arrive.
My mother allowed him a single, brief visit during my imprisonment. She kicked things off by securing his eternal promise to never reveal our secret. Something in the way she muttered under her breath and kneaded her hands when Henry repeated the exact sentence she demanded (“I shall never utter, write, or think a word about the Jinn world in anyone’s presence other than a member of the Nadira family.”) makes me wonder if she wasn’t sealing his vow with some sort of spell.
Even though her decision not to erase Henry’s memory came less out of the goodness of her heart and more out of her fear that Sam was right about the spell not being powerful enough, I was grateful. I not only endured but agreed with her lecture on how irresponsible my behavior has been, how the infringement on my freedom is a result of me not taking things seriously, and how I need to be conscious of the fact that my actions have a ripple effect on others.
The last part stung. Seeing that baby all alone, knowing I was the one responsible, confirmed every fear I’ve ever had about being Jinn. Granting wishes in real life is nothing like in the movies or on TV. These are real people who want real things that I have no real idea how to give them—at least without hurting them, someone else, or, apparently, myself.
Henry’s convinced if he hadn’t followed me, none of this would’ve happened. While I have my doubts about that, I’m pretty sure the fact that he blames himself played a role in my mother’s decision. As did my renewed dedication to the cantamen.
The codex and I spent the week of my grounding together. We may not know all of each other’s secrets, but we are certainly on a first-name basis.
And, it turns out, a description of the bronze bangle does indeed lie on the second page, but it offers no details beyond what my mother told me. How to get the probation lifted? What kinds of mistakes might ramp me up to the next level of punishment? What that next level might be? Nothing. Despite flipping through the book every day of my grounding, I couldn’t find another reference. Figures that my Jinn ancestors would think it was cute not to include an index. There’s not even a table of contents. Isn’t that funny? Um, no. Not at all.