Circle of Jinn (17 page)

“Candleholder,” Farrah says.

“Vase,” Chelsea says.

Mina snorts. “Apparently, there are many things that's good for.”

Yasmin pushes her way into the center of the group, clears a circle with her gladiator sandal, and drops the bottle in the middle. “Who wants to take this for its first spin?”

Immediately Laila drops to the ground. Followed by Zak. He tugs on the collar of his shirt. He had to button it all the way up to hide his silver-beaded necklace. Is it possible Yasmin saw a glint of the metal tonight? Is it possible she saw more than a glint at the mall? Does she suspect something, or is this really just a friendly game of spin the bottle?

Nothing with Yasmin is just friendly.

And the odds here are not good. Not the seven females to five males, but the four out of five males I do not want to wind up kissing. I mean, Zak,
ew
times a thousand. Ditto for Matin—since he's Hana's brother, he's too close to being my brother (a qualm Zak apparently does not have about Laila). And Henry and Nate? I do not want to be kissing either of them in front of the other. Which leaves me with Dwight. Thankfully since he glows in the dark, I'll have no trouble finding his lips.

Then again, is Henry really going to move away with things so unsettled between us? He wouldn't talk about our kiss. I wouldn't let him talk about Chelsea and his bed and her chandelier earring. Would one more forced lock o' the lips help us figure out if “other stuff” is the only thing in the way of, well, other stuff with us?

Doesn't matter. One look at Nate, and my guilt surges like a river in a storm, and I know I can't find out. Especially not here. Not in front of everyone else.

“I'm in,” Chelsea says, dropping to the ground, followed by all my Zar sisters.

All
of them
.
Couldn't they bother to sense me this once? As if they even need to. Isn't the look of dread on my face enough?

If my look is anywhere close to Henry's, I can't imagine how it's not. I expect to see an SOS smoke signal puff out of his ear as Chelsea yanks him down beside her.

With a shrug, Nate takes my hand and whispers, “That bottle better be a good wingman. I can't have you kissing anyone but me.” And my river of guilt overflows its banks as he lowers us onto the grass. “But, hey, I'm due for some good luck.”

He is. But who needs luck when you have your very own genie? I may not be able to use my magic to apport my way out of this, but at least I can use it to ensure that bottle points anywhere but at me.

The gold eyes that dart around the circle suddenly make me wonder if all my Zar sisters have similar plans to rig this little game.

Starting with … Laila? Really? She volunteers—insists—on going first. But when the spin of her bottle lands on Farrah, I realize she's still the same sweet Laila she's always been.

Then again, she hasn't had her magic as long as the rest of us. Like Farrah, whose spin
magically
lands on Dwight. His,
shockingly
, aims right back at her. My Zar sisters let this run through one more time before Mina ends Farrah's magical interference.

With a rotation worthy of a newly discovered type of gravitational pull, Mina finally overpowers Farrah (who put up a surprisingly good magical fight) and lines the bottle up with Nate. My Nate.

She'll be gentle. Mina won't want to upset me. And then I remember her neighing and Farrah's Italian stallion and I suddenly think this game was a horrible idea.

I think we all do by the time Nate manages to pry himself from Mina's clutches.

I glare at her, but she keeps her eyes trained on Nate as she licks her lips and backs away. “I've been waiting for that all summer, Adonis boy.”

The only one whose cheeks are more flushed than mine is Nate. A fact that changes when, after I nudge Nate's spin to land on me and we kiss like Quakers, it's my turn.

I'm so nervous that I spin the bottle too hard and the one person it wasn't supposed to land on it does: Henry.

With his green eyes and ruby-red cheeks, it's like he's decorated for Christmas. What does it mean that he's this embarrassed? And that I'm this nervous? That there's no need to delve further into the status of our relationship or that there's every need?
No need.
Because so what if our relationship colors outside the lines? He's happy. I'm happy. No need to adjust the picture for one little slip of the crayon.

Someone clears a throat.

I look around to find myself on all fours in the center of our circle. Stuck halfway between Henry and Nate. At least I'm consistent.

Scurrying forward, my plan is to let my lips graze Henry's cheek. Quick and painless.

But when I kneel in front of him and lean in, Henry grabs me by my shoulders and thrusts me back. “Don't.”

His eyes look not just at me but through me.

With that one word, he lets me go.

I'm living in the now, in the moment. But the moment is not as I planned. It is quick but painful.

And not just for me. The gasps come from all around me. From my circle of Jinn sisters.

Sure,
now
they use our Zar connection and tune into me. For the first time, all six of us are feeling the same emotion.

Mine.
And it sucks.

 

18

The game should be over, but Yasmin has one final move.

My head hung so low as I crawled back to my spot next to Nate that I barely noticed Henry leave the group. It also didn't register that Hana took what should have been Henry's turn. Not until the thing I realize Yasmin has been angling for since proposing the game happens. It's not what I would have thought. It's not the spin of the bottle pushing Zak and me together.

It's the spin propelling another brother and sister together. It's Hana's whirl, under Yasmin's powers, that means she has to kiss Matin.

No
. This has gone on long enough. Which, thankfully, my brother agrees with. Because the bottle cracks in half and the neck now points at him.

But Yasmin's smug smile means we've just swallowed her bait. Hook, line, and smoocher.

*   *   *

I'm in the bathroom splashing my face with water over and over again, until I hit the limits of my waterproof mascara and my cheeks bleed black ink.

When I open the door, I step on Henry's pinky.

“Ouch!” He sticks his finger in his mouth and sucks on the tip. “I probably deserved that.”

“It wasn't on purpose,” I say. “But still, yes, you did.”

Though I see Zak standing outside the room that used to be Jenny's, then Lisa's, motioning for me to come to him, and even though I've been gone so long Mina's likely ensnared Nate with a spell, I yank Henry by his elbow and drag him to his feet and into the bathroom.

With a flick of my powers, I lock the door.

A clear plastic liner is the only thing left cordoning off the shower. I shove it to one side and perch myself on the edge of the bathtub. The acrylic is cool against the back of my thighs.

“Park it,” I say to Henry as I point to the toilet.

“Listen, Azra, about—”

“No. I'm the one doing the talking.” But I don't. I don't know what to say. There was a time when it was just Henry and me. I had no one else to think about and no one else to worry about. Now this house is full of walking, breathing, scheming worries. My mother's wrong. Life isn't compromise, it's complicated.

Across from me, elbows on his bent knees, Henry kneads his hands together. “I met Zak. He seems nice.”

“He is. But that's not—”

“I'm glad for you. I'm glad he's here.”

“He can't stay forever.”

“A recurring theme.” He grins, and it's the grin of my best friend but also … not.

Things are changing. Have changed. Was it our kiss? Was it me living with Nate? Was it Henry having to move away? All of it, and more. Becoming Jinn brought us together, but can Henry really remain a part of this circle of Jinn I'm now in? Forever is indeed a recurring theme, in that nothing
is
forever. Apparently, as I've just discovered with Xavier's spell, not even the Afrit's control over me.

“It's just…” Henry moves from the toilet to the tub next to me. His eyes find mine, first searching, then connecting, then holding. “About Zak … is it really okay? Because this is huge, Az.”

I shake my head. “You have no idea how huge.”

Henry groans. “I'm not sure I want to know.” He drops into the tub and leans his head against the tile.

“What?” I follow him, banging my shoulder against the faucet on my way down and landing my butt in a puddle of water. “Why not?”

Watching me use magic to dry the fabric of my dress, Henry says, “It's just … just a lot of responsibility to keep your secrets.”

My head jerks up. “Oh.” It is. I know it's hard on him. But I thought the trade-off of us being back in each other's lives was worth it. Maybe it was, but maybe it's not anymore. “Well, sorry, I guess.”

I start to get up, but Henry waves for me to sit back down. “I didn't mean I don't want to know. Or to keep your secrets. It's just hard is all. Especially now.”

Now that Chelsea's carved out room in his life, perhaps there's no more space for me. Maybe I'm in the Carwyn storage locker next to his Red Sox bobbleheads.

He drums his fingers against the side of the tub. “I mean, the thing is, I won't be here, Azra. I already worry about you every second of every day, but at least living across the street, I could see you all the time and make sure you were okay. When you were at Nate's and I couldn't see you, I had to—”

“Find ways to distract yourself.”

“Find ways to let go.” His eyes, which are and will always be Jenny's, drill into mine. “Are you telling me I shouldn't?”

I want to. Or a part of me does. But a bigger part of me wants Henry the way we were and Nate the way we are and I'm pretty sure that's not the answer Henry wants to hear.

His loafers, the ones I used my magic to shine, rest against my hip. I shift for more room. “I … I didn't want you to go away without us knowing where we stood.”

He's no longer looking at me. “How very thoughtful,” he mutters under his breath. He drags his fingers through his hair. It's long enough that it doesn't stand on end like it used to when he takes his hand away. He exhales, slowly. “Azra, we've always known. What happened was a mistake.”

There. He's said it. Isn't that what I wanted to hear? Then why am I holding my breath?

“We will always be best friends,” he says. “But you have your life and all its responsibilities and I have mine.”

Always, but not forever.
Et tu, Henry?

My bangle clinks against the tub as I sit up. From this angle, I can't see the clasp but I can feel it. It's still there.

“What if we didn't have responsibilities?” My voice is barely above a whisper. I know it's impossible; I know I can't take off my bangle and run. But I can't help wanting to know his answer. “What if we could disappear?”

He hesitates before shaking his head at my bangle. “There's no sense asking, because we can't.”

“But what if we
could
?”

He sighs. “You could never leave your mom or Laila or all the rest of them any more than I could leave Lisa. Or…”

He stops talking, but for a split second I dive into his mind and hear his silent
Chelsea
.

“You two are really close, aren't you?” I say.

His hand slaps against the edge of the bathtub. “Dammit, Azra, I asked you not to read my mind.” He flattens a palm on either side of his head. “Don't. I'm warning you.”

Warning me? That's it. In I go. And it's all there, raw and … naked. Mattress on the floor. Sheets in a ball. Henry and Chelsea. The two entwined in the way boyfriend and girlfriend have every right to be.

I launch myself out of the tub, knocking into the faucet on the way out. Cold water shoots from the nozzle on the wall, drenching Henry.

He shrieks and grabs the black mildewed edge of the shower liner for protection.

“Sorry about the cold shower,” I say, “though I'm pretty sure you needed it.”

I toss him a towel on my way to the door. The moment it clicks shut behind me, Zak steps out into the hallway.

“What took you so long?” he says.

I widen my eyes. “You say that like I knew you were waiting for me. Which I didn't.” He motions for me to follow him, but my mind is still trying to unsee what it's just seen and my heart is still trying to figure out what it feels about what it's just felt and I'm not in the mood for any more Jinn games. “Besides, I just want to go home, but I need to find Nate first and—”

Zak hooks his thick arm around my waist and drags me down the hall. His momentum propels me through the door and into Lisa's room. Except it's no longer Lisa's room. It's Yasmin's. She's exploded all over it with her Wicked-Witch-of-the-West-meets-Edgar-Allan-Poe theme. Black ravens fly in a mural against the dark-gray walls. Red taper-style candles line every surface. A round bed rests inside a frame made of twisted ebony wood. And in the corner by the window, a curvy red velvet chaise … upon which Yasmin sits. Weighing down the pink pouf beside her is Matin.

“Perhaps you could use a leash for your sister, Mr. Nadira,” Yasmin says in her usual condescending tone.

So that's it. She knows. Turns out she's been the one tossing out feelers all night.

My body may be fully here—taking a seat next to Zak on the bed, listening to Yasmin explain how she noticed his necklace, gleaming like a neon
OPEN
sign outside a convenience store when he paraded through the mall, and saw the pre-shorn, red-haired Matin stalking her and Hana like a drunken bison when they went for coffee—but my mind isn't.