Becoming Jinn

Nate’s grandparents call to him. He turns to me and asks, “Can you stay with Megan?”

 

 

“Of course,” I say, though every fiber of my being is telling me not to. I try to block Megan’s thoughts, but the instant Nate’s gone, Megan wobbles and I have to wrap my arms around her to keep her from falling. She buries her head in my chest, and her body deflates as it uses mine for support. Megan lets the tears that she’s been so bravely fighting all morning come.

 

I rub her back and brush her hair out of her face. She is young. Too young to be dealing with this. And then, that’s it, I’m in her head, I’m hearing every horrible, painful, tortured thought. Not since my first time with Mrs. Pucher has reading someone’s mind been accompanied by feeling their emotions. And this skill, like everything else, has progressed.

 

The intensity of Megan’s hurt overwhelms me. I clutch her hand, dragging her toward the stairs, which I practically carry her up. Her emotions are consuming her. And me. I have to stop it. I have to help her. Reaching for the nearest door, I pull us both inside what turns out to be Nate’s room.

 

I take in the slate blue on the walls, the lacrosse stick propped in the corner, the medical dictionary on the desk, and in an instant, it all happens: the incantations, the cloaking enchantment, Megan in a trance-like state, the wish-granting ritual under way. She’s in so much pain, and I’m so invested that I can’t hold back my own feelings, and the words spill from my lips. “I’ll make it better. I can take the pain away. Just wish for it. Just wish for it, and I can do it, I promise. You don’t have to feel this. Let me help you.”

 

And that’s when she makes her wish. It’s like a hammer has pounded a six-inch nail through my heart, in one side, out through the other. And it’s my fault. What she’s wishing for is my fault. My words encouraged her. Of course they did. How stupid, how very stupid I was. I shouldn’t have rushed into this. I should have known this is what she’d want, this is what she’d wish for. And she’s adamant that this is what she wants. That this is the only thing she will ever want. It is only when I envelop Megan in an embrace that I truly understand why.

 

After easing her out of the ritual and wiping away her tears, I force myself to bring her back downstairs, to bring her to her grandmother, explaining she was momentarily overcome. Her grandmother thanks me for helping and squeezes my hand. I’m dying inside. I manage to excuse myself, saying I need the restroom.

 

Halfway to the kitchen, I turn around. No one’s watching me but Henry. I run out the back door, knowing he will follow.

 

 

 

 

 

39

 

I’m in the Reese’s backyard, leaning against the wooden post of a weathered-gray swing set. Dizzy, I bend over, putting my head between my knees.

 

Henry’s at my side before I know it. He grabs me by both elbows, asking what’s wrong.

 

“Paper bag,” I say.

 

“What?” Henry asks, confused.

 

“Paper … bag.” Isn’t that what you’re supposed to use when you feel like your lungs have collapsed? “Can’t breathe. Can’t see.”

 

Henry lowers me to the ground, propping me against the splintering cedar. He crouches in front of me, saying soothing things until my eyes focus again. We stay that way as I do the thing I promised myself I wasn’t going to do: load more weight onto Henry’s shoulders. In this selfish moment, I pile it all on, telling Henry everything, starting with the Afrit’s ability to take away and hurt everyone I care about, including him, flowing into the revelations about my mind control, Mrs. Seyfreth, my father, and who I really am, and ending with Megan being my next assignment. There’s only one thing I leave out. Jenny.

 

Henry lands his butt on the grass and wraps his hands around the nape of his neck. He bobs his head up and down. “Okay, okay, wow, okay, okay, wow.”

 

Though everything’s come out in a stream-of-consciousness muddle, Henry understands. Henry always understands me. He gets it. He gets the danger of refusing. He gets that I have to grant Megan’s wish. He gets that I don’t have a choice unless I want to lose everyone I care about. He understands I’m going to have to do whatever it is that Megan wants.

 

I make sure of this. I make sure he gets it before I tell him what it is that Megan wants. He shouldn’t be surprised. It’s not that I was surprised by what it is she wants, it’s what I’ll have to do in order to accomplish it that has sent me into this spiral. Because, really, Megan’s a twelve-year-old girl. A twelve-year-old girl who just lost her father, who’s terrified of losing her mother. What else could she want?

 

“She wants her family back together,” I say, sliding up the wooden post and circling to one of the two swings. I grasp the metal chain and wait until my heartbeat no longer pulsates in my temples. “Her wish is for her family to be whole again, her entire family. She wants her mom, her dad, herself, and Nate to be together again.”

 

Henry rises. He runs his hand through his hair and starts pacing in front of the swing set. “But Azra, you can’t do that. You’ve told me. Genies can’t bring people back from the dead. Can’t even heal people. It’s not that it’s forbidden, it’s that it’s impossible, right?”

 

I watch him as I lower myself onto the small, green plastic seat. I say slowly, “As far as I know, it’s outside the powers of even the strongest Jinn.”

 

Henry stops in front of me. “But what then, Azra, what are you going to do?”

 

“What do you think? How would you accomplish it?”

 

He moves closer, staring into my eyes with such intensity, I get chills. I hear his mind reach the same conclusion I did. The only conclusion there is. Hot tears fill my eyes, but I blink them back. I need him to reach this conclusion so he’ll understand.

 

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