I Wish (11 page)

I shivered. What I was about to do terrified me. Once I got used to leaning on Grant, his departure might crush me too. And then where would my family be? “I accept,” I said. “Thank you.”

His lips twisted. “You’re welcome.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He raised his head to look at the stars. “I was reflecting on how consistently grateful you are.”

Ouch. “I didn’t know consistency was a problem.”

“It isn’t. That was a compliment.” His gaze returned to my face, although his expression was impossible to read in the dark. “
Thank you
is not something I’ve heard very often. In my experience, human masters limit our conversations either to their demands or to criticism of my results.”

Had I ever criticized the quality of his work? My brain was too tired to think it through. “I guess I should head to bed now.”

He walked me to the porch and stayed at the bottom of the steps. As I entered the house, though, his voice halted me.

“Lacey, why haven’t you used a wish for your mother?”

“It would violate your guidelines,” I said, unable to hide the resignation in my voice. “It’s not humanly possible to help her get better.”

Update to Status Report #9

Dear Boss,

What is happening with this case? It is unprecedented in the challenges it brings.

My previous assignments were focused on specific, personal goals. I learned discipline beside a mistress training for a cross-country race. I observed passion in a master pursuing an acting career.

I cannot recall working for a teen who wished so desperately to tend to the other people in her life, and not herself.

Why have I been assigned here? I am only an apprentice. Surely the severity of their problems deserves a Being with more experience in helping families.

Although I acknowledge Chief’s concerns about her brother, I don’t believe her fears are well-founded. Surely the local government would not separate Henry from his family when he is so clearly cared for.

Chief underestimates the depth of her mother’s illness. Crystal Jones requires professional mental health care. Her need is urgent.

For the first time since the League instituted the revised rules, I find myself fretting under their restrictions. This family could use so much more than the guidelines permit.

I have never asked for an exception before, but I wonder if it might not be warranted for them. May I use my powers on their behalf?

Humbly submitted,
Grant

M
om didn’t come out of her room in the morning, not even for coffee. Henry, who had recovered from his ordeal, was begging me for an extra slice of toast before racing out the back door to kick around a soccer ball.

Time for chores. I cleaned up our breakfast things, made a quick harvesting foray into the vegetable garden, and started a pot of soup.

I was too fogged over to remember what today’s wish was supposed to be, so requesting it would have to wait. Besides, I wasn’t in the mood to talk to Grant. I’d had enough discussion about my mom to last me a while.

With my brother out of the way, I would take on his bedroom. It desperately needed its monthly airing-out. Almost mindlessly, I opened the windows, swept the hardwoods, and changed the sheets on the bed. It was already smelling fresher when I noticed the bottom drawer of his dresser was ajar. I plopped down, prepared to refold the dresser’s contents.

Sleep deprivation must’ve dulled my thinking because I sat on the floor for a full minute, staring at his things, before I could absorb the condition of Henry’s clothes. His old shorts lay next to his soccer uniform shorts, which were not only newer—but also wider and longer. I gave my head a hard shake and refocused.

Henry’s regular clothes were a mess. They were either faded, torn, or—and this made my heart hurt—too small. Had we taken him shopping since Josh died? “He needs to stop growing,” I mumbled.

“How do I do that?”

I glanced up to find anxious eyes on me. Crap, I didn’t mean for him to hear that. When did my brother sneak into the room? “I’m joking, little man.”

“These are fine.” He grabbed a pair of shorts and held them against his body. They would barely cover his butt.

“Nice try, but you know they’re not.” He was just a little kid. He shouldn’t have to deal with stuff like this. I’d forgotten to include this problem on the master plan, but it would be added now. “I’ll ask Grant to take care of them,” I said, my fingers brushing the tattoo.

“Great. He can do anything.”

“Did I hear my name?” Grant stood in the doorway.

“Yeah. Lacey says you’re going to fix my clothes.”

My BSB made eye contact with me. “Indeed, I shall.”

“Good. Maybe the guys at school will shut up about it.” Henry darted from the room.

I slumped against the bed and stared at the empty doorway, stricken. “My brother is being teased?”

“Of course he is,” Grant said.

How could this weekend get any worse? “I didn’t know. He’s never mentioned it.” Why hadn’t he? Henry could’ve talked to me anytime he wanted. I would’ve tried to figure something out.

“He didn’t care to bother you.”

“Did you know?”

Grant nodded.

“He should’ve told me, or you should have.”

“Henry told me in confidence. It wasn’t my right to tell you.”

My brother discussed a serious problem with Grant but not with me. Why? Henry was my responsibility. Had I somehow lost his trust?

I would have to do something to make this right. I didn’t know what. But something.

My brain slogged through the possibilities. It was too late for the Labor Day sales, but maybe I could find some pants at a thrift store. “Can I wish for you to make them brand new?”

“No.” He towered over me as he studied the stack. “However, I can turn those jeans into shorts.”

“What if I gave you more of Josh’s old clothes? Could you make little-boy pants from them?”

“Do you have a sewing machine?”

I nodded. “Mom has a great sewing machine.” I’d never seriously considered cashing it in at the flea market. Sewing had been too important to her in the past. Maybe it would be again one day.

“Then certainly, I can fashion new clothing for Henry.” He reached down to help me to my feet.

I rose too quickly and fell into his body. When his arms closed automatically around me, my hands were trapped between us, splayed against his chest. It was, I had to admit, a very nice chest.

Wait. No
.

I pushed away and staggered backwards. “Sorry.” I scrubbed my palms against my shorts to stop them from tingling. “That’s my wish today. What you said. About Henry’s clothes.”

His gaze went from my palms to my face. With a suppressed sigh, he snapped his fingers. The pile of jeans jumped into his arms.

I ran from the room, needing to escape. Once in the hallway, though, I stopped and leaned against the wall. What had happened in there?

Grant was gorgeous, and he had a great body. But I’d known that from the first moment I saw him. What was different about today?

It wasn’t as if I
liked
him. What would be the point? I was his mistress. He was my genie.
Like
wasn’t part of the agreement. Grant surrounded himself with an attitude as approachable as a barbed-wire fence. No way did I want a piece of that.

Maybe what I was feeling was respect. He’d shown such strength and kindness last night.

Wrong. That wasn’t it either. Respect didn’t make me want to scrub the tingling from my palms.

What then? Gratitude?

Yes, that had to be it.

Of course. I had someone to share problems with. He was helping me with Henry. I was flooded with gratitude. Even Grant had commented on it last night. Unlike his previous masters, I was consistently grateful.

I needed to show him, and I knew how. He hadn’t spent all of the money we’d budgeted for the air conditioning unit. We could spare a few dollars. “Grant?”

He appeared in the doorway. “What is it?”

“Do you like ice cream?”

“The invention of ice cream was one of humanity’s finest hours.”

I smiled. “I’ll take that as a
yes
. Why don’t you come with me and Henry to get a treat?”

The Super Scoops Ice Cream Parlor was located on a side street behind The Reading Corner. My brother beat us there by half a block and had stopped on the sidewalk to talk with his soccer teammate, Reynolds.

Some girls from my senior class were exiting Super Scoops as we arrived. Grant held the door for them, shocking them into silence, whether from the jaw-dropping sight of him or from the fact he was with me, it was hard to tell.

It would’ve been easier if my genie had been ugly. Or twelve inches tall. Or green. But no. I had to end up with the BSB who was every girl’s dream. There might be questions tomorrow at school. I would have to spend some time tonight making up answers.

I entered the shop ahead of him and Henry. “What should we get, guys?”

“Peach,” Henry said as he ran to the glass case holding huge tubs of ice cream.

Grant said, “Vanilla.”

“Vanilla?” I gave Grant a pained smile. “Please tell me you’re not serious. You ought to try something radical. Like caramel-fudge-brownie. It’s a symphony of flavors.”

“Vanilla is about all I can stand. My sense of taste cannot take anything stronger.”

I preferred anything with chocolate. Henry wanted peach, and Grant could only tolerate vanilla. Three flavors. Since I had a Buy-One-Get-One-Free coupon with me, we’d only be able to get two flavors.

I stood in line to order while Grant claimed a table in the front corner. It had a good view of the entire shop, with its black, white, and pink 1950s decor. He positioned himself with his back to the wall and waited until I placed both dishes in the center of the table.

“Hey, Lacey, can I sit outside with Reynolds?” Henry asked loud enough for the whole store to hear.

“Sure, if his mom doesn’t mind.”

“She doesn’t. I already asked her.”

I handed over his dish and watched as he ran to an outdoor table occupied by Reynolds and his parents.

“All right,” I said as I pushed the other dish nearer to my guest. “It’s our turn to eat.”

Grant shoveled in his first spoonful like he was afraid someone would take it away. It was cute and unexpectedly endearing. “How often do BSBs get ice cream?”

He swallowed and smiled lazily. “Not often. We only eat human food when invited.”

I licked my spoon and paid extra attention to the taste. Creamy, rich, and delicious. I would hate only having ice cream when someone else asked. It was bad enough to wait until I saved up the money.

My BSB didn’t get invitations or gratitude very often. Instead, he received criticism for the free services he provided. Was this why he needed a league?

Behind us, a group of people burst into laughter. Grant’s gaze shifted in their direction. He stiffened and set down the spoon, his expression fierce.

I turned to see what had upset him. Some of my classmates were sitting nearby. Four half-eaten banana splits crowded the table top. The guys were flinging bits of pineapple and strawberry at each other. The floor under their table was disgusting.

I swung back around. “Don’t watch. They’re being stupid.”

“I have experience with behavior like theirs. It’s the reason the League developed guidelines for our assignments.”

“To protect you from humans?”

“To protect us from the shallow ones. We’re no longer obligated to indulge pure greed.” He scooped up more ice cream and savored it as he watched Henry through the window.

“Do you like being a genie?”

He nodded. “There were several job options available to me. I made a conscious choice to spend my apprenticeship by granting wishes.”

“Why?”

“It gave me the greatest opportunity to study humans in depth. I wanted to learn as many emotions as possible.”

He seemed grumpy so much of the time, I’d assumed it was because he didn’t like what he was doing. It was surprising that he’d asked for this job. “What kinds of things have you done?”

“Most of my masters have been teens applying to college or athletes training for competitions.” His lips twisted, then relaxed. “I also had a mistress who entered beauty pageants for the scholarships.”

“I wonder why none of those people were grateful.”

“
Consistently
grateful.” He gave a small shake of his head. “I suppose I’m treated no differently than most people in service jobs, like teachers or waiters. If we don’t meet your expectations, you complain. Otherwise, our performance goes unnoticed.”

I’d worked for the past year at The Reading Corner. I totally got that. “Does it bother you?”

He nodded slowly. “I think perhaps it does, and I can’t say why. I am required to execute my tasks well regardless.”

Yep. Got that too. “How long have you been an apprentice?”

“Two years.”

“That much?”

His mouth strained to hold back a smile. “Time is relative.”

“Uh-huh.” Two years seemed long to have to wait for a promotion. Relatively speaking. “What does an apprentice get promoted to?”