Three Wishes (9 page)

“You first,” Papa offers. “We finished a pot already. I used the new organic, shade-grown, fair-trade coffee you've been bugging me to try. It is good.”

I nod, satisfied to be proven right. As I sip, we chat about the conditions outside and speculate as to how long the power might be out. Papa says he did a quick reconnaissance early in the morning and saw a number of downed trees. “The wind sure was blowing last night,” adds Mamère.

I sigh, thinking again of my study date with Pete, resigned now to the idea it won't happen. There's no way my grandparents would let me drive in this much snow.

Instead, we decide to make it an official snow day. Growing up, our
official
snow days were when we played board games, read books, and ate junk food to our hearts' content. The only rule was we couldn't do anything at all productive.

The day passes quickly, occupied by my father's ancient board games and lots of junk food, and lit by sun and candlelight. It surprises me and bums me out when I realize it's almost two o'clock, the time of my would-be date. Then, in the distance, I hear a loud noise like a chainsaw, getting closer to my house. Startled, I figure out it's the sound of a snowmobile coming up our isolated road. Peeking out the window, I see the snowmobile pass Leia and Luke's house. That can mean only one thing — it's headed
chez moi
.
Can it be…?
I let the curtain drop over the window and frown.

“What's wrong?” my grandmother asks as I suck in a breath.

“I've gotta go to my room. I'll be ready in a minute,” I say, scrambling upstairs, taking two steps at a time.

“What…?” I hear Papa say, but I'm already gone. As I get to my bedroom I hear the doorbell ring, and then the sound of Pete's voice talking to my grandparents.
Perfect.
The living room is littered with the remains of today's junk-food diet and board games. I pace my room, trying not to freak out.

Here's hoping my grandparents are handling things okay, stalling long enough for me to put on my cute outfit and throw on a little makeup. I hadn't even bothered mentioning my plans to them, though my clothes had been hanging hopefully in my closet for days. Glancing at my hair, I make a face and pull it into a ponytail. I don't want to leave Pete there too long. He'll have to deal with the casual look. This is supposed to be a study date, after all.

I grab my English folder and copy of
Crime and Punishment
and walk back downstairs, hoping I look calm.

“Genie.” Pete breathes as he sees me approach.

“Hey, Pete.” I try to sound nonchalant. “So cool that you could make it! We can get our studying done after all.”

“I tried calling you—” he starts.

“Sure, of course,” I interrupt. “My phone ran out of juice this morning, and there's no way to recharge right now. Plus I had no idea you had a snowmobile, so I had assumed, you know, we'd have to cancel.”

“Oh, yeah, the snowmobile — I borrowed it from my older sister's boyfriend. He lives a couple miles from us.”

I take in his soaking wet boots and pant legs. He walked all that way — for me.

He brushes some imaginary lint off his coat. “I wasn't going to miss my chance.”

Wow. I look at Pete with new eyes and smile at him. Could he actually like me? Caught in the moment, I'm glad to realize at some point during this embarrassing conversation my grandparents disappeared. I hear the basement door close. Good — they'll work on their project by lantern light and give us a little privacy.

“After all, I could use your help on this essay. I didn't do so well on the last one.”

Oh. I deflate, confused. So, he's
not
interested? But then he takes his books out of his backpack, flops down on our couch and pats the cushion, indicating I should sit down right beside him. He has positioned himself so we'll be sitting shoulder-to-shoulder. I'm glad I had thought to brush my teeth when I ran upstairs at his arrival. When he talks to me, I see his front tooth is a tiny bit crooked. The slight imperfection somehow makes him even cuter.

I soon notice I am feeling damp. Pressed together with his, my clothes are absorbing some of the wet snow melting from his pants. I jump up. “You must be super cold. You're totally soaked!”

“Well, I'm okay,” he protests. But I'm in doubt, so I grab my grandfather's sweatpants from the clean laundry hamper in the corner that's been folded but not yet put away — he won't mind — and then hand them to Pete.

“Yeah. We'll both be more comfortable,” I assure him, pointing down the hallway. “The bathroom's there.”

While he changes, I put milk in a saucepan on the woodstove and start heating it up for hot chocolate. I'm stirring in the powder when he comes in and peers into the two mugs I've set out.

“Marshmallows, too? This brings back my childhood, lo these many moons ago.”

I roll my eyes at his goofiness.

“I'm feeling right cozy now.”

“We'll be even better by the fire,” I say, moving our books and papers. Even though I'm crushing on Pete like crazy, I felt a little weird how close we were on the couch, so I settle us on the floor by the woodstove.

We spend the next hour or so discussing the book a little, but spending most of the time chatting about our teachers and other students. I've been in love with him forever, but he's never talked to me before. I'm amazed to find he's funny and charming and is gazing at me like I'm the most interesting person in the world.

As it inches toward three-thirty, I point out it'll soon be dark, and he might need to get home. Instead, he stands up and stretches his long body. I try not to look as his shirt rides up, exposing rock-hard abs, but I can't help the little thrill I get at the view.
Yum.

“Ehhh.” He exhales, bringing his arms back down. “We've done enough work. How about some fun?”

“What do you have in mind?” I ask, always cautious.

“Ever tried snowmobiling?”

“No…”

“How about it? You'll love it. I promise.” How could I resist his smile?

“Well, okay. I'm up for it, as long as you're gentle with me.”

“No problem. But bundle up. It is freezing out.”

I tell my grandparents of our plans, to which they raise their eyebrows a bit, but don't forbid me from going. “Be careful,” Mamère cautions. “We want you back in one piece.”

“Yes, yes!” I agree then run back upstairs to join Pete. He's already in his snow gear, which dried in the time we'd spent by the fire. If possible, he's even cuter all wrapped up. I throw on my winter gear, and together we race outside to the snowmobile. He tweaks the pom-pom on top of my fleece hat before helping me onto the seat. I sit behind him and wrap my arms around his waist, trying to keep from pressing my chest too closely into his back, but I know I need to hold onto him for balance.

“Hang on!” he shouts as the loud motor revs. Even though he promised to be gentle, I'm still feeling nervous, and I squeeze his ribs as the machine begins to move. Laughing, he gestures toward the beach road paralleling the shore, indicating he'll take me that way. I nod in assent, already more at ease.

The storm dropped a good two feet of snow; our street, with only two homes, and the uninhabited beach road are often last on the town's list of areas to be cleared. This is working to our advantage today, allowing us to fly through the undisturbed, pristine snow pack. The cold air stings my eyes and makes them tear, but I can't stop grinning. We keep going for about twenty more minutes until we end up near the parking area for the town's playing fields. Rather than blaze through the new snow on the field, as I was expecting, he cuts the motor and turns to me.

“Having fun?” he asks, eyes sparkling. I can only nod, my lips a little numb from the cold. I hope my nose isn't running and take a quick swipe when he's not looking.

In one quick movement, he leaps off the snowmobile and grabs my hand, pulling me with him toward the empty fields. It's rough going through the deep snow, and we're both huffing after only a few moments. We manage to make it almost to center field before he drops my hand and collapses flat on his back into the snow. Puzzled for a moment, I then start laughing and follow suit. Yes, at age seventeen-and-a-half, I am making snow angels with a cute boy whom I hardly know. It's like a dream come true.

We make several more and then, still on my back, I realize the purple shadows and creeping darkness indicate it is almost twilight. The sky is revealing its first star of the evening. Pete props himself up on one elbow, awkward because of the snow, and he studies my face with a smile matching my own.

“First star,” I note aloud, pointing to the sky. “Time to wi—”

He kisses me, almost before I know what is happening. Barely a heartbeat passes before he gets to his feet and holds out his hand, helping me up. I stand facing him, with what must have been a surprised expression.

“Was that okay?” he asks, sounding uncertain. For the second time within a few minutes I can only nod, but this time, my lips are no longer numb; they're tingling from his kiss. I lean into him and give him a longer, more intense embrace. His hands go to my waist and he pulls me closer, while my arms wrap around his neck and our lips meet.
Whoa.
Kissing Luke was like kissing a brother compared to this. I smell strawberry and it must be from his lip balm. His lips are smooth and yummy.

I'm kissing Pete Dillon. Me. Genie Lowry.
I feel giddy, my thoughts swirling out of control. It's all I can do to keep from laughing out loud, like I'm full of helium. Finally, or too quickly, our faces separate, though we still hold on to each other.

A noise from the trees at the edge of the field grabs my attention, and I glance over my shoulder to see a small, quick movement in the darkness. I swear I see a tall figure standing next to the largest tree, and for a moment I think we're being watched.

With one gentle finger on my cheek, Pete directs my gaze back to him. “Something wrong?” he asks, brow furrowed.

As I start to tell him, though, a sharp breeze kicks up, and I realize it's the shifting shadows playing tricks on me. Shivering, I scold myself for having an over-active imagination. “Nothing! I thought I heard something, but it was nothing,” I tell him.

He laughs. “Good, then, stop being distracted from more important things… like more of this.” He kisses me again. I am soaring and hold on to him to keep from floating away.

Finally, he breaks apart with a grumble, saying he'll get in trouble if he's not home before dinner. We climb aboard the snowmobile and head back to my house. It's hard to talk over the noise of the engine, so we're silent for the duration of the ride.

Arriving at my house, he refuses my offer to come back inside to warm up, so I grab his backpack from inside the door and bring it to him. He gives me another little kiss before leaving, asking if we can get together again tomorrow.

I start to say
yes
, but then remember I have work to do that I slacked off on today. “Probably not,” I tell him. “But maybe after dinner tomorrow, if I can get everything done by then.”

“Well, make it happen. I don't want to share you, even with your homework,” he says, a little petulant. “I'm not good at sharing what's mine.” I'm not quite sure how to take that, but then he smoothes back a strand of my hair, studying my face. “You're something else — totally the hottest girl in school now. We'll be great together.” He pulls me in for a close hug and another long kiss before taking off.

I'm still standing in front of the house, watching the shadows grow longer, and thinking today was not what I expected. Those kisses were amazing. I run my finger over my lips, smooth from his lip balm. Shivering, I let myself back in the door, take off my snow gear, and go to the fire to warm up.

Drat.
I can't even talk to Leia. My phone is still dead, the power is still out, and the Hirsches are not home. I'm dying to tell her about all this, but it seems like it's not happening for now.

Dreams do come true, if we only wish hard enough. You can have anything in life if you will sacrifice everything else for it. — J.M. Barrie

Snuggling into bed the following morning, I relive over and over the kisses I shared with Pete. This is a good time to hear more about my parents' love story, too. The power isn't yet restored and the air in my bedroom is cold, but I swing an arm out from under my cozy blankets and grab the diary, which seems slightly warm to the touch. I adjust my pillows before cracking it open.

A week later, Matt and I reprised our time at the bench along the beach, minus the chocolate crêpes. It felt so good, so human, to be there with him, as if I were home for the first time. But I couldn't forget I had more to tell him. I forced myself to start. “Matt, there's something else,” I began.

“What, love?” he murmured, seeking my lips.

“No. I need you to listen,” I said, pushing him back. He sat, expectant. “It's about my family. I know I've never introduced you to them. It's because we're… different.”

“Different? I know you are. That's what I like about you.” Seeing my expression, though, he added, “Well, what do you mean?”

I took a deep breath and looked away. “Well, we're not quite… human.” I didn't dare observe his reaction. Several moments of silence and a choked snicker greeted this announcement.

“Uh, yeah. Where's the camera? Is this a joke? Just because you're French doesn't mean you and I are so different, right?” he said.

“No, it's no joke.” I let the words tumble out in a rush. “Matt, we're — I'm — well, my family, we're genies. Some people call us djinn.” I pause, gathering my courage. “Will you be my first — my first master? When I turn eighteen next month I'll have my full wish power and can grant you three wishes, pretty much anything you could ever want.”