Genuine Sweet (6 page)

Jura found me standing outside Sass Foods, contemplating whether I had enough lost-and-found change to buy a chicken breast for Gram to fix with supper.

“Jura! Hey!” I stuffed the money into my pocket. “I haven't seen you for a couple days! How's things?”

“Look!” she repeated, all jiggles and grins.

I took the paper from her. She'd circled an ad with a waxy black line. It read,
Help Wanted, Auto Mechanic, must have experience with foreign cars.

“All . . . right,” I said, waiting for Jura to explain.

“That's my mom! That's what my mom does! She fixes cars!” Jura fairly trembled with excitement. “I decided you were right. If I'm going to stay in Sass, I have to stay informed. So, when the new
Settee
came out today, I picked one up. And there it was!” She poked the page so hard I thought she'd put her finger through it.

“I called my mom and told her about the ad and she called the garage and they had this whole huge talk on the phone and—” She paused to gasp for breath. “I just know they want to hire her! I can feel it in my bones!”

I couldn't help noticing the double thump of my own heartbeat as I watched a real wish—a wish that I had fetched—get fulfilled right before my eyes.

“Does she, uh, know much about foreign cars?” I asked a little nervously.

Jura nodded wildly. “Japanese cars. German cars. She even has a Fisk Certificate!”

“What's that?”

“It says she can repair these new cars from Norway. They don't even hit the market until January. They're gonna be
huge.
And my mom's only one of a hundred people in the whole country that knows how to fix them. Bet you people from all over will be coming to Sass, Georgia, to get their Fisks fixed!”

By now, I was hoppingly excited myself. “And you won't have to go back to your old school!” I exclaimed.

She rolled her eyes with the bliss of it. “I
know!
I'm really free! Plus, my aunt Trish—I've never seen her so happy!” Jura said. “Oh, Genuine, it's so crazy. I didn't even dare to hope for it. I mean, look at this paper. There's two job openings in all of Sass—the mechanic one and a security job at the retirement home. What are the chances, you know?”

“I'm just pitched for you, Jura.” And I meant it. Her happiness was contagious.

“This is a sign, Genuine. You and me, we're gonna be unstoppable! I can't wait to see what we'll do next!” Jura took my hands and pulled me into a big hug.

Let me tell you, there is nothing like the feeling you get when you've really helped somebody. Nothing could douse my smile!

Turned out I didn't have enough for that chicken breast, but I practically danced home anyway.

 

Principles are all well and good, but when I got home and found Gram fretting over an overdue bill—second notice—I sank down to earth right quick.

There was no avoiding it. It was time for me to set up shop.

 

I took three wish biscuits and headed to Miss Faye's Hair, Nails, Beauty Supply, and Leatherworks. Faye, a relative of my pa's, was a big woman, always smiling. I liked her very much.

“Hey, cuz!” I called, swinging the door open wide.

It takes new customers a little time to get used to the mash of odors at Faye's—nail-polish remover and hide-tanning formula—but I was long used to it. I quick-glanced around to get a feel for my audience. Three local ladies sat under those helmet-style hair dryers, cackling over a little he-said, she-said. Another soaked her nails.

Faye looked up from the leather she was stitching. “Genuine! What brings you to my fine establishment?”

She was busy, so I got right down to it. “I'm sort of starting a business, and I thought you might let me make an announcement to your customers.”

“Shore! What sort of business?”

“Wish fetching,” I replied.

“What's that?”

“You know, granting people's wishes,” I explained.

Her smile fell a little as she tried to puzzle this out. “You mean, like doing their chores when they's too busy?”

“No. Like, ‘I wish I may, I wish I might.' Ping! Wish granted.”

Faye nodded slowly. “That's an interesting line of work you've chosen.”

I would not be deterred. “So, can I? Make my announcement?”

“Be my guest! They sure ain't goin' nowhere!” she told me, smiling again. “You sure you wouldn't rather sell hand-wove potholders, though?”

Figuring some things only suffer by explanation, I left to fetch a box from the supply room. Setting it in the center of the salon, I gave Faye a nod.

“Y'all listen up!” Faye called from the nail station, where she was now trimming Missus Binset's cuticles. “Genuine's got something to say!”

The ladies' jawing died down. Three pink-rollered heads turned my way.

I hopped up on my box. “Thank you for your, uh, allowing me to interrupt your, uh, fancifying regimens.”

“Probably taking up a collection for her daddy's bail,” I heard one of them whisper.

I felt my cheeks turn red.

“Go ahead, sugar.” Faye gave me an encouraging bob of the head.

“Um,” I began. “So—I'm Genuine. Guess y'all know that. And, uh, I'm here to ask y'all to think on something in your lives that isn't quite as fine as you'd like it to be. Maybe you've got more chores than you can manage. Or your bunions might be troubling you, and nothing but nothing will give you relief. Every one of us has things we need, you see. And that's where I hope to be of, uh, service.”

I paused to give each lady some eye-to-eye contact.

“Not long ago, a woman needed work in Sass.
Sass!
you might say.
There ain't no work in Sass!
And, of course, you'd be right. But I was able to help her out, and in less than three days' time, she had her a job in town!
How?
you might ask.”

No one did ask, which deflated me some, but I went on. “By sending her to the day labor office? No, ma'am! I used my own special inheritance! I'm a fourth-generation wish fetcher, you see. And I believe
I
might be able to fetch
you
the special things your hearts are longing for! Now, uh—”

Here came the hard part. Could I really ask these women to pay me cash money for wishes? And if I did, could I really fetch the kinds of things they'd ask for? What if Jura's ma's job was a fluke? What if Dangerous Dale's daughter turned out to be nothing more than a well-meaning yap-up? I almost stepped shamefacedly down off my box right then. But, all at once, I recalled Gram's troubled expression as she studied that overdue bill.
No!
I determined. I would
not
go all feather-legged now!

I swallowed hard and went on. “For the reasonable price of twenty dollars, I'll give you one of these here biscuits.” I held one up for display. “And through the power of my family shine, you will—almost certainly—very probably—I'm thinking the chances are real good that your wish will come true. And if it doesn't, I swear I'll refund your money! Give it a couple weeks first, though. Maybe a month, to be on the safe side. Um. Actually, I'm not sure how long a wish would take, if it was a hard one—”

I saw that I'd drifted downriver some, so I grabbed a paddle and rowed myself back. “Well. That's all. Twenty dollars a wish, satisfaction guaranteed. Thank you kindly for your time.” I plastered on the biggest grin I could muster, curtsied, and hopped off the box.

“I tell you what I'd wish for!” Missus Hoover said at once. “That Reggie Booker would close his blame window blinds at night! Him and his new lady friend been working all kinds of hoodoo over there!”

“Hmmph,” grumped Penny Walton, turning her magazine pages with an angry flick. For some reason I couldn't discern, she glared at me every now and again.

“Twenty dollars is a cheap price for a wish come true,” Faye said sagely. My cousin may not have understood the wish-fetching trade, but that didn't stop her from trying to drum up a little business for me. Still, she did look a mite worried as she whispered in my direction, “You really can magic stuff up with those biscuits?”

“Yes, ma'am. I believe I can,” I replied.

Penny Walton pulled the hair dryer from her own head and stormed over.

“Who do you people think you are?” she snarled.

I looked over my shoulder for all those “people” she was referring to. No one was there. “Ma'am?”

“MacIntyres! Wish fetchers!” she caterwauled. Turning to Missuses Hoover and Kalweit, under the dryers, she added, “Don't let her draw you into her schemes, girls! Her kind won't bring anything but trouble!”

Faye stepped away from her work, poised to defend me, should things take a turn.

Penny Walton directed her dagger-eye my way. “You think I don't recall the hopes Cristabel dredged up, then cast away? Think again!” She set a hand on her hip and poked a finger in my face. “You drop this flummery now, or
I'll
put a stop to it!”

She marched out the door before Faye could finish shouting about the rollers still in Penny's hair.

I sat for a time, not sure what to make of any of it.

Libby Kalweit, sitting under her hair dryer, said to Faye, “Switch this off, would you, honey?”

Once the dryer was off, Libby told me, “Don't let Penny hurt your feelings none. If anyone should be ashamed, it's the pot-stirrers who turned a sorrow into a spectacle.”

“What
are
you talking about, Libby?” Faye asked before I could.

Missus Kalweit glanced my way. “I don't want to say too much. Make me just as bad as the muckrakers.”

When we kept silent, waiting for more, she went on, “All right. Without saying too much, poor Penny's heart got broke. Bad. Still, the pain might have passed in time, were it not for her so-called friends poking at the sore places. Spreading lies, getting Penny all stirred up. Nobody believed the things those girls said about your mama, of course, but poor Cristabel still went home every day for a month, cryin'.”

“Hush now, Libby!” Missus Binset hissed. “There's no call to go dredging up the past!”

“You hush! You're just feelin' guilty for how you and Penny fabled against poor Cristabel! Trying to rile folks up so they'd turn their backs on her!” Missus Kalweit said tartly. “Far as I'm concerned, there's no fault in the MacIntyre line. Not a one of you!” she assured me. A few seconds later, she muttered, “Though your granny never charged money for her wishes.”

My gut twisted with a flash of anger. I wanted to say,
What should I do, old woman, feed you with wishes while I starve?
It took everything I had to remember that, thanks to Dilly Barker's flour, I hadn't had a single hunger pain in two days.

“Times change,” was all I said.

“That may be, but I don't know many folks with twenty dollars to spare,” said Libby.

Faye waved a hand, calling me to her. “I'm sure it's not your fault, Genuine, Penny gettin' so worked up,” she said. “She works in real estate, and the market's bad, you know? When people get stressed, they take things out on folks who don't deserve it. That's probably what it was.”

Whatever it was, when Faye closed up shop, I still had three biscuits and my wallet was empty. I was gonna have to come at this differently.

5

W
HEN TRAVIS TROMP TRIED TO LATCH ON TO
me in the hall the next morning, I went right up to Sonny and asked if he needed help washing blackboards again.

“You seem a little chewed up today, Genuine,” Sonny said as he pulled a piece of fruit from his locker.

“A little.” I was, after all, a wish fetcher with nary a wish to fetch.

He held up his orange. “Want half?”

“I'd love it!” I said, maybe a little more dramatically than the moment called for. But I really did love it—the orange and the fact that Sonny was sharing it with me, of his own free will.

Later, Scree gripped my sleeve and dished, “Oooh, the look on Travis's face while you ate that orange! Dear goodness!”

Maybe, I thought,
just maybe
Travis needed a wish biscuit to help him find a girl who'd love him back. Then he'd be less angry and wouldn't pester folk so much. I decided it was a good idea, and I told myself to remember:
Biscuit for Travis.
But you know how it is when life gets lively. Sometimes things slip your mind. Because, that day came a treat that brightened my spirits right up. While Mister Strickland was calling roll, Missus Forks, the school secretary, led a new student into the room.

“Class, I'd like you to meet Jura Carver,” Missus Forks said. “Go on, Jura. There's a desk right next to Genuine, over there.”

I waved a hand. She saw me and let out a huge breath. Her shoulders—which she'd been holding so high they might have been earrings—relaxed.

“I am so glad to see you!” she whispered to me.

“Are you all right?” I whispered back, wondering where Jura's mettle had gone.

“Ladies, let's don't make me separate you on Jura's first day, hmm?” Mister Strickland frowned at us, but I could tell it was just his way of making Jura welcome. “Genuine, will you get Miss Carver a set of books?”

I ran to the back of the room and selected the most decently clean math, history, English, and earth science books on the shelf. Even though we were almost done with Shakespeare, I grabbed a
Macbeth,
too, so Jura could follow the last of the discussion.

“Um,” she said as she examined the math book.

“Yes, Jura?” our teacher inquired.

“I'm in algebra,” she replied.

Mister Strickland paused. “Are you?” After a moment, he brightened. “Well, good for you. We'll see what we can do about that. You won't mind a little review today, though, will you?”