Nostalgia for a past whose simplicity eluded me at the time makes me choose the purple linen tunic my mother gave me for my birthday. I’m wearing it over the lace bra and thong conjured by Yasmin. She really does have impeccable craftsmanship. The thong doesn’t itch like I thought it would.
At the bathroom mirror, I keep one eye on the YouTube instructional video that plays on my laptop while I attempt to apply more than my usual lip gloss. The angled brush draws a line of deep pink on my cheeks, and I force my guilt to take a time out, just for tonight. A sparkling green camouflages my lower lid, and I bury the image of Laila’s sad, knowing eyes. Mascara thickens my long lashes, and I replace the image of Laila’s blue—now, gold—eyes with Nate’s blissfully unaware chocolaty ones. With each brushstroke I cover the part of me that is Jinn. I become a normal teenage girl going on her first real date.
I put down the tube of cinnamon-colored lipstick and assess my work. Paired with the copper accents in my long, dark hair, the end result causes me to do a double take, not out of conceit but out of astonishment for how much I resemble my mother when she was my age. I could stand in for her in any picture in her high school album and I’m not sure anyone could tell the difference.
Tonight calls for something better than jeans. Fortunately, the benefit of being my mother’s doppelgänger means I have effectively doubled my wardrobe. In her bedroom, I try on three different skirts before settling on a white denim mini I can’t ever remember her wearing.
Before leaving, I sift through her jewelry box. This may be the first time I’ve ever thought about accessorizing. I feel a twinge in my chest when I think how proud both Hana and Laila would be.
Checking out the stockpile of jewels in the bottom drawer, I spy a thick, African-style wooden bracelet that looks like it’d pair well with my bronze bangle and slip it over my hand.
I rummage through, holding up black pearls from China and glass beads from Italy, but decide the necklace I’m already wearing works best. I start to close the drawer. That’s when I notice what the large wooden bracelet was hiding.
Tucked into the furthest reaches is my silver pendant with the cursive A engraved on the front. But it can’t be. Because that pendant’s currently around my neck. I pick up the duplicate A, which feels much heavier than the one I’m wearing. It’s the weight I remember it being before I turned sixteen.
It seems no matter how hard I try to prevent anything from ruining my date with Nate, the universe has other plans. Because the large piece of jewelry was hiding something else: the two pictures of my mother and her beau that I last stashed in my pillowcase. That was weeks ago. Of course, my mother’s changed my sheets since then. Why didn’t she say anything? The Jinn secrets’ playbook keeps getting bigger.
I return the pictures and the heavier clone of my A pendant to her jewelry box. I’m reinstating my Scarlett O’Hara plan and giving myself tonight off. I have a lifetime to decipher this Jinn playbook. I’m not going to let anything ruin my night.
* * *
A melted bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream sits on the coffee table in front of my mother. Neither one of us can eat ice cream slow enough that it melts. If that isn’t enough of a clue that something’s amiss, I catch the look on my mother’s face as she slides something between the sofa cushions.
“Beautiful,” she says in a voice two pitches higher than usual.
We made peace (sort of, more like we passed the sugar bowl and ignored what happened last night) before I left for work this morning. So her current twitchiness must have another cause. Why should I expect anything else?
She clears her throat. “You look great, honey.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Wrong? Nothing.” Her eyes scan my body. “Hey, is that my skirt? And my … my bracelet?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
She must wonder if I found what the bracelet was hiding, but my instincts tell me whatever she’s trying to cover up here is even more important.
“What subject?” she says. “This conversation’s barely started.”
I point to the small rectangular chips floating in the sea of creamy white. “Something made you stop eating that. The thing is, I can’t imagine anything in this world that would cause that to happen.”
My unwavering stare compels my mother to talk.
“They sent an assignment.”
So it turns out it’s not something in this world after all.
The smile that follows my mother’s statement is so forced it makes me wince even more than the idea of granting another wish. Another wish. Already.
Breathe, Azra. Air in, air out.
It’s just a job, right?
In through the nose, out through the mouth.
Just like slathering mayo on a BLT. Just like disinfecting a toilet.
“It’s okay,” I say. Knowing how much we look alike, my fake smile must be a perfect match for hers. “I’m ready this time.”
My mother still hesitates.
“I am,” I say, trying to convince her as much as myself. “I’ve actually been studying. I’ve even been reading about spells. Azra-cadabra, I’m ready!”
I’m standing there waving jazz hands and still nothing. Not even the slightest upturn of her lips in response to my joke. Work with me here, Mom.
“You’re kind of freaking me out,” I say.
Her plastered smile returns. “Azra, honey, it can wait. Tonight, just be a normal girl, okay?”
Normal girl? She’s never once told me to be a normal girl. Not even when I begged her to. Something’s very very wrong.
I hold out my palm. “Let me see.”
Worry lines draw a gloomy mural on her face. But she gives in, compressing the side of the cushion she’s sitting on. I slide my hand down the crack and yank out the gold envelope with my name perfectly embossed on the front.
The seal’s broken. She’s already opened it. I untuck the flap and pull out the single slip of paper.
No, it can’t be.
My hands drop the whole thing as if it were on fire. The sheet lands face up and stares at me from its spot on the floor.
They’re pushing things too far. They’re pushing me too far.
I back up, slowly, until I hit the front door.
It feels almost intentional. Purposeful.
Clasping my hands behind my back, I press my body against the door as if I could push myself through it and away from here.
It’s not fair. One night. One normal night. That’s all I wanted.
My mother, still calmly seated on the sofa, picks up the envelope and the sheet of paper and lays them on the coffee table. Like last time, the letter contains the name and address of my wish candidate. But this time, I don’t need the address. Though I’ve never been there, I know exactly where he lives.
Dizzy, I lean against the front door until I’m able to regulate my breathing. I ease my way across the room and lift up the paper as if it were a live grenade.
Nathan Reese.
Nate. My Nate. Nate is my next assignment.
I make it to the hall bathroom just in time.
* * *
Between the cold cloth my mother presses against my forehead and the streaks lining my face from the tears I couldn’t hold back, my careful makeup application has just become collateral damage.
Staring at the unmistakable 3 on the back of the note card, I say, “This can’t be a coincidence.”
“Sure it can,” my mother says, but something in her voice suggests otherwise.
“I like Nate. A lot. And you said it yourself. Being invested makes granting wishes messy.”
“Oh, that.” She balls up the damp washcloth. “I was being melodramatic.”
“No you weren’t. You were right.”
She waves her hand to dry the fabric but instead soaks it. Water pools on the table and cascades over the edge onto the floor.
“You’re nervous. You think I’m going to screw up again.”
She grabs a dish towel to mop up the water. Her cleaning without magic confirms she’s worried.
Her hand shakes as she sets the towel on the table. “You said you’ve been studying, right?” Her question sounds more like a plea. “We’ll make sure you’re ready. You’ll be fine.” She starts nodding her head. “Yes, we’ll make sure you’ll be fine.”
I’m worried too, but right now, I’m less concerned about what might happen to me and more afraid of what could happen to Nate. “What if I hurt him?”
“You won’t hurt him. How could you hurt him?”
I suck back the mucus clogging my nose and throat. “Maybe … like what if he wishes to be a Tiger, meaning on the varsity team, and I turn him into an actual tiger?”
Her tension releases in a laugh. She smiles and squeezes my shoulder. “Let’s not go totally off the deep end, kiddo.”
I shrug off her hand. “Okay, so what if I don’t hurt him but he wishes for something that makes me lose him? Like being with Chelsea or some other rah-rah cheerleader?” Or me. What if he wishes for me? And what if granting that wish makes me lose Henry?
“He likes you,” my mother says. “Let’s also try not to invent problems, okay?”
I’m all out of reasons, but still I don’t want to grant Nate a wish because … because I just don’t. My pulse quickens, and I struggle to take my next breath. That’s not true. That’s not why. All of a sudden, my brain seizes on what my heart knew instantly.
My mother may be worried about my safety, but for me, the overarching reason why this sucks as much as it does is because it means my two worlds are colliding. The two worlds I was starting to think I could keep separate will become one. The part of me that could be normal Azra with Nate will vanish the moment I begin the wish-granting ritual. He won’t know it. But I will.
I’ll always know his deepest desire. And I’ll have to make it come true. Once I link with his anima, a part of him will always be with me. I’ll know him in a way he’ll never know me. But I’ll have to pretend I don’t.
I was wrong. Getting to lie to Nate isn’t better. I was delusional. Human attachments are indeed too hard. I will be exactly like my mother and Samara and every other Jinn.
So much for the liberation I thought the bronze bangle gave me. I’ve become a Jinn. A Jinn I will always be.