I Wish (29 page)

“Grant, you’re not meant to live an ordinary life.” I choked on a sob. “Even a small risk is too much.”

“Do not concern yourself over the unknowns. It is my decision,” he said. “I make it willingly.”

It wasn’t his decision. It was mine.

I was screaming on the inside, and it was all I could do to keep my cries from bursting free. Camarin hadn’t shown up randomly. Her visit meant something. He needed to consider this information carefully.

What if he forfeited his right to be chosen?

What if we didn’t make it to forever? How long was long enough to be worth it? A month? A year? My lifetime?

How could I let him make this sacrifice? Yet the alternative was to ask him to leave.

I’d already been dreading how my mom would react if he had to go. Would his departure send her spiraling downward again? And what about Henry? How long would it take him to recover? He’d lost his father less than a year ago, and now Grant?

What about me? He’d become the center of my world. Nothing thrilled me more than seeing him smile and knowing that I was the reason.

Letting him go would be devastating, but was that enough to keep Grant from his dreams? We were so happy together. It was hard to believe that our first date had been last Friday. After only five days of us, I could hardly bear to go to school and be separated from him. How could I send him away?

“I can’t,” I said, facing him fully. “I can’t let you do it.”

His jaw set stubbornly. “I will not leave.”

“You have to.” I closed my eyes, but the tears fell anyway.

“I want to stay. You’re the only one who makes me truly happy. Don’t take that from me.”

I burrowed into his arms. I loved his strength and his determination. I loved how much pleasure he got from doing things right and how eager he was to learn. I loved that life was better simply because he was around.

I loved
him
.

And there it was—the reason I wouldn’t let him gamble his future for me. “You’ll have to go, Grant. I’ll wish you away.”

“The wish only lasts a day. I’ll come back the next.”

“If you do, I’ll wish you away again.”

“No,” he said, his voice confident, “you won’t.”

I crept up the stairs to my room, crawled into a corner, and watched out a dormer window, waiting for midnight.

First, I watched the stars, tiny pricks of white against a blue-black sky. A sliver of moon peeked over the windowsill and slowly climbed until it disappeared from view.

The hours ticked by. I waited through each rasping breath, each hot tear, each agonizing thought. At nine, the stairs creaked, the footsteps drawing nearer.

“Lacey?” my brother called.

“Yes?”

“Are you all right?”

“No.”

There was a long pause and then the stairs creaked again, the footsteps fading.

Ten. The TV flicked on in the living room below me, loud enough to vibrate the floor.

Eleven. The TV flicked off and the pacing began. I could tell where Mom was by the squeaky board next to the fireplace.

At 12:01, I stood up and stumbled outside.

The studio was dark. I turned on the light and looked around. So much had happened to this room and in this room over the last month. It was clean, organized, and ready to change our luck.

I owed it all to Grant. It was time to do the right thing. Standing in the doorway, I rubbed my tattoo.

He appeared instantly. “Why are you here so late?”

“I’ve come to make a wish.”

“A wish now?” His expression was confused at first before changing to concern. “No, Lacey. You’re tired. You don’t have to decide this now. Go to bed. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“The facts won’t change. You’re sacrificing too much. I can’t let that happen.”

“It’s not a sacrifice.” He crossed to me and reached for my hands. “I want to be with you. I want to live in your world.”

“For how long, Grant?” My voice trembled. This was so hard. I could barely get my thoughts out. “How long before you miss what you’re giving up? How long before you resent throwing away your future for me?”

He shook his head with confidence. “That won’t happen. When you and I are no longer together, I’ll resume my career. It will always be there to reclaim.”

“The dream career you’re facing now?”

There was that flicker of unease in his eyes, quickly suppressed. “I can’t know for sure, but I’m not worried.” He closed the space between us and pressed his mouth to mine, his kiss searing my heart. “We’re good together,” he said against my lips. “We have so much left to do. Let me handle what comes after.”

Yes, please
.

No. Wait. I had to be strong. I pulled away from him and backed into the yard, into the shadows, his words trailing me, sweet and tempting. I wanted to believe. I wanted him to be right. If I listened much longer, I’d yield.

He followed. “I love you, Lacey. I know what I’m doing.”

“You don’t understand human love, Grant,” I said, backing up until a tree stopped my progress. “You don’t know if this is a fair trade.”

“I’m willing to discover it with you.” He braced his hands on either side of my head and leaned so close I could feel the heat of his body. “You want that too.”

I did. I wanted more than anything to forget my worries and take what he was offering. But the memory of the other BSB shimmered in my mind. She’d been sent here to warn him. He was a rock star. He was destined for miraculous things. That’s what his future should be. Since he wasn’t thinking clearly, I had to, even if it tore me apart. “I love you, which is why I have to let you go.”

He shook his head. “No. You don’t.” He cupped my face with one of his hands, the pad of his thumb lightly caressing my cheek. “You give me something I’ve never had before. You’re all I want.”

I closed my eyes and relaxed into his touch. His lips brushed my temple, my jaw, my mouth.

It would be so easy to give in…

I broke away and slipped from his arms, putting distance between us. “You’re supposed to be one of the chosen. How can I be happy wondering if I’m taking that away?” This hurt so badly. I wanted it to end. “Tell me you understand.”

“I don’t.” Even in the darkness, his eyes shone with desperation. “I accept the risk. Let me stay.”

“I can’t.” I shook my head firmly.

“At least let me say goodbye to Crystal and Henry.”

How would I ever explain this to them? “No, Grant. I know it’ll hurt them, but I don’t need all three of you ganging up on me.”

“Please, Lacey. Don’t do this. I love you.”

“I love you too. That’s why I can’t let you ruin your life for me. I’m not enough.”

“You’re everything.”

“I’m sorry, Grant.”

“No—”

I forced the words past a throat clogged with tears. “I
wish
you would leave and not return.”

There was a puff of blue smoke. A faint hiss. And he was gone.

There was no need to set the alarm clock. I lay awake all night.

Before my mom or brother could get up, I dressed and walked to school. The grounds were deserted. The school lay in darkness. On a crumbling concrete bench under an old magnolia, I sat cross-legged, waiting for daylight and people.

Staff and faculty trickled in. Buses arrived. I hunched over, watching the drop-off lane for a silver SUV.

It roared up at ten ’til eight. Kimberley bounded up the sidewalk, brimming with joy. Today, it was not contagious. I slipped off the bench and joined her as she climbed the front steps.

“Hi,” she said. Her smile faded. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks.”

“What happened?”

I deflected her question with a flick of the wrist.

“Did Grant break up with you?”

Could she read minds too? “It was the other way around.” My voice was rough.

“Why?”

“I’m bad for him.”

She didn’t argue. She didn’t ask questions. There was only silence until we arrived at our class. First period. APUSH.

Damn. I’d forgotten about Mr. Jarrett. How could I face ninety minutes of listening to his stupidity? The very thought made me sick. I trudged into the half-empty room behind Kimberley. Mr. Jarrett read
The Washington Post
on his laptop. Flopping into my desk, I sank low in the seat and wished myself anywhere but here.

The bell rang.

“All right, class. Today we’ll start the War of 1812, also known as America’s most boring war.” My whole body ached. I bowed my head over my desk and traced a finger over its graffiti.

I hated farewells.

“The War of 1812 was a huge waste of a war. It did nothing but pile up another stack of dead soldiers.”

“Shut up,” someone shouted in my voice.

“Excuse me, Lacey,” Mr. Jarrett said. “Sit down.”

“Don’t you ever,
ever
call them ‘another stack of dead soldiers’ again.”

Mr. Jarrett snorted. “Then what should I call them?”

“Heroes—the kind who pay with their lives so that jerks like you can say any stupid thing you want.”

Beside me, Kimberley stood and clapped. The person beside her stood and clapped too. One by one, students rose until the entire class was standing and clapping.

I left right then. I picked up my stuff and ran from the room, slamming the door behind me. I could hear my teacher screaming for me, but I didn’t stop racing down the empty halls of the high school until I reached the outside.

It was hard to believe they’d applauded. Mr. Jarrett held grudges. Maybe the standing ovation had been my imagination.

I couldn’t recall what happened next. My mind checked out and my body took over. It walked and walked. Somehow it managed to get me to my house.

Mom emerged from her bedroom when my foot hit the bottom step of the attic stairwell.

“Why are you home so early?” she asked in a calm voice. “What’s wrong?”

My insides were crumbling. I couldn’t speak.

“Oh, baby.” She drew me into a hug and patted my back awkwardly. I laid my head on her shoulder and felt a few hot tears seep from my squeezed-shut eyes. “I haven’t been able to find Grant today,” she said. “Is that what’s wrong? Has he left?”

I nodded against her shoulder. A shudder jolted through her body. Slowly, she disentangled our arms, a pinched twist to her lips. “You go on up to bed. I’ll check on you later.”

I did as she suggested and lay in bed for hours, curled on my side, too numb to think, staring with dry eyes at white walls.

He hadn’t really left. Not yet. The music box waited in the studio. All I had to do was walk out there and make another wish. The agony would be over.

No. I have to let him go
.

The finality was overwhelming. I wanted him back.

My mom drifted in and out of my attic room. She felt my forehead, muttering. She brought me a mug of her favorite hot sweetened tea and a plate of crackers and then stayed until I consumed them. She asked a thousand times if there was anything else she could do. I answered a thousand times, “I’m fine.”

I wasn’t fine. I would never be fine again.

There was a loud rap on the door. “What?”

Mom peered in. “I’m walking Henry to practice.”

I nodded. It might be too soon for her, but I ached too much to move, and Henry’s practice was a commitment.

A couple of minutes passed. There was a second loud rap.

“What now?”

“Hey,” Kimberley said. “You still look terrible.”