“Higher, Azra!”
A memory, which until now, I didn’t fully understand.
“Higher, Azra! Make me go higher!”
I slam the door shut without thinking of the noise. I clutch my A pendant and fall back against the wall, sliding to the floor. Bringing my knees to my chest, I tuck myself into a ball. As I rock back and forth, tears gush like water from an open fire hydrant. Me always having the ability to do magic adds a horrifying subtext to the events of that day.
Jenny and I were on the swings in my backyard, alone. We had each just finished a three-scoop ice cream cone. Chocolate had dripped down my chin and onto my neck and chest. My mother had gone inside for a washcloth, taking my A necklace with her to clean. She had told us not to go on the swings until she returned. Like we were babies. I wasn’t going to be told what to do.
“Come on, Jenny,” I said.
She followed, and we sat on the swings, kicking at the ground with our feet.
“I wish I had a push,” Jenny said.
“I’ll grant your wish,” I said to Jenny, teasing. Though I wanted to, I knew I wasn’t allowed to tell her I was a genie.
But then all of a sudden our legs managed to propel us into the air. Up and up, we went, swinging faster and faster, higher and higher.
“I’m flying, Azra! Higher, Azra!”
It was all my fault.
I must have used magic to push us on the swings, to push us higher and higher in the air, to push us so high, we could touch the clouds.
The force of my trembling threatens to knock the rickety concession shack down. I was a kid. I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t mean for anything bad to happen. I’m sure I only wanted to make Jenny happy. I couldn’t have known. I know I couldn’t have known. But that doesn’t matter.
When you’re responsible for the death of your best friend, nothing else matters.
My hand goes numb from its tight squeeze on my A pendant as I remember something else. That day, Mrs. Seyfreth was going to the ballet. I remember Jenny and I begging her to bring us back the program. She was at the back fence, peering over, booklet in hand, when Jenny fell. That must be what she saw. My mother using magic to try to save Jenny. Mrs. Seyfreth going crazy isn’t my mother’s fault at all. It’s mine.
Forcing myself to breathe, I release my hold on my A and flex my fingers, trying to stimulate the feeling to return. My mother gave me this necklace when I was so young I don’t remember it. I never took it off, feeling a compulsion to always have the pendant against my skin. That is, until the day I turned sixteen. It’s not that I didn’t like it anymore, but the insistent need to wear it was gone. Because … because that pendant was gone.
I once again test the weight of the A around my neck. I knew it was too light—unlike the one tucked in the far corner of my mother’s jewelry box. The one she must have spelled to block my powers. The one she must have spelled so I’d never remove it.
If that’s true, then my mother really does know I don’t need a bangle to release my magic. She knows I’m unlike every other Jinn. But she didn’t want me to know. Because she’s protecting me or because she’s afraid? Considering what I now know about the Afrit, the two go hand in hand.
My world suddenly unstable, I’m as shaky as a three-legged table, but I can’t just apport home. Me disappearing would surely draw unwanted attention. And as my mother taught me, I can’t have that.
I check to make sure no one’s watching before sneaking out the door. Nate must be looking for me. Scratch that, Nate must have organized a search-and-rescue mission for me. I enter into a chaotic mess of people, police cars, and ambulances. There’s even a news van.
I wander through the throng of bodies, but Nate’s nowhere to be found. Wait, there’s Chelsea. Is she crying? The rest of the beautiful bods are slumped over a picnic table. I’m heading toward them when Henry comes up behind me.
“Where have you been?” His voice is full of worry.
I never lie to him, but there’s so much to tell, I don’t know where to begin. My chest tightens and tears again creep into my eyes. Jenny. All this time Henry’s been blaming himself. For what I did. He deserves to know the truth. But he can never know the truth.
“What took you so long to get back here?” he says. “I’ve been looking for you.” He touches my cheek. “You’ve been crying. So you do know? I’m so sorry, Azra.”
Henry puts one hand on each of my upper arms, rubbing gently. He’s scaring me.
“Know what? What’s happened?” I swivel my head. “Where’s Nate?”
Henry bites his lower lip. His eyes won’t meet mine. I grab his chin and force him to look at me.
“What is it, Henry?”
His Adam’s apple bulges as he swallows. “The helicopter. His parents. They were stopping by on their way back from dinner. There was a car accident on the road to the beach. Some of the kids at the bonfire. They … they drank too much. It’s bad, Azra, really bad.”
Henry looks like he’s about to cry, which makes the tears I’m fighting all the more difficult to control. But this time, I do. I ask him where they’re taking Nate’s parents. I ask him if he thinks Nate’s already there.
Once I have my answer, I’m off, running back to the concession stand. All I care about is getting to Nate and his parents. The only wish Nate could possibly make is to save them. And it’s a wish I’ll be able to grant. I don’t know exactly how or what I’ll do, but I know I’ll be able to figure it out. I’ll be able to grant Nate’s wish and keep his family together.
After this afternoon, I was convinced the whole Afrit notion of “greater good” was a bunch of bull. But I was wrong.
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