Becoming Jinn (6 page)

“Sorry,” I say. “Laila was … changing.”

Henry's grin widens as he looks at the door and then back at me. He inches forward, eyes narrowing, head tilting.

I inch backward, shoulders hunching, knees bending.

With Jenny gone, Henry might be the only human able to tell that my change in appearance is from more than a full day at a high-end Boston salon.

“Is something … different?” he asks.

“Spa day,” I say without hesitation as I sweep my long braid off my shoulder. “Mom's idea of a birthday present.”

My lies flow as easily as water from a faucet, but this time, with Henry, as I slink into the shadows being cast by the fading sun, it's not just to hide my new look; it's also to hide my guilt.

Skepticism radiates from Henry's nod as he rests against the weathered gray shingles to the left of the door. He squints and then points to my shirt. “Purple?”

“Another birthday present.”

“It's nice. That was Jenny's favorite color.”

I flatten my palm across my chest. How could I forget? Did my mother remember? That I'm sure she did makes my heart grow heavy.

“Nice that you're having a party,” he says.

A party Jenny can't have. The only sound is that of the foil balloon brushing against the door frame.

Now my heart may as well be made of lead.

Henry clears his throat. “Haven't seen Laila around much. I'm glad you two are still close. And that was her mother? Sam? What was that she was saying? Appy…”

Pushing past the knot in my stomach, I issue what I hope is a breezy laugh. “Oh, that was just Lal—” I swallow and laugh again. “I mean, Aunt Sam trying hard to be funny. ‘Appy Berfday.' Working on her cockney accent, I think.”

My body had sprung into action even before Samara had finished her warning. Which makes me wonder why none of our Zar sisters managed to detect the presence of a human before appearing. Was Henry too far from them or were they too busy horsing around to take notice? My mother said the more attuned we are to our senses and to our surroundings, the better and farther out the detection works.

I notice Henry eyeing the small gap between the front window's curtains and snatch the string from him. “Thanks for this.”

Running his hand through his hair and leaving several tufts standing upright, he says, “Oh, sure, but that's just my cover. This is your real present.” He digs into the front pocket of his jeans and pulls out a small silver key. “Here.”

Instead of taking it, I slide farther into the shadows. “What's that for?”

“My parents finally put a lock on the fence gate. I figured what with it being your birthday and all, you might need your escape hatch.”

The string slips through my fingers, but Henry catches the end before the balloon races for the stars.

“You knew?” I say, sounding as dumbfounded as I feel.

Seeking refuge in the Carwyns' backyard during the Zar gatherings held at our house started a couple of years ago and by now has become my routine. Sneaking away even for a few moments helps prevent the sheer quantity of Jinn-ness from suffocating me.

I had no idea that Henry had been
watching
me.

He gently places the key and the balloon's string in my hand. “If I had as many aunts and cousins as you, I'm sure I'd need a break too.”

Our eyes meet, and I immediately lower my golden gaze.

“Hey,” he says, “don't look so worried. I haven't told anyone. But I did keep a lookout to make sure you didn't fall in the pool or freeze to death.”

I had no idea that Henry had been
watching out
for me.

“Figured your family was coming tonight. Now if you need to go on the lam, you can. And, as always, mum's the word.”

Still in shock, I stammer out, “You … you won't say anything?”

He shrugs a yes. “Can't have sisters and not be good at keeping secrets.”

A smile tugs at the corners of my lips. I'm good at keeping secrets. Sharing them is a new experience. One, at least with Henry, I like. He's become the older brother Jenny would have deserved.

The front door I'm leaning against flies open, and I tumble backward over the threshold and into the living room. I tuck the key into my pocket before facing my own version of sisters.

Steam threatens to billow off my searing hot cheeks as I'm flanked by Yasmin, Hana, Mina, and Farrah. Who just happen to be decked out in genie costumes. Exposed belly button, gauzy harem pants, tiny hat with sheer headscarf, the whole ridiculous nine yards of flowing fabric. And Henry's
right here
. Are they crazy? At least I can count on Laila to help …
Oh, come on
.

Laila bounces down the stairs in her own sparkly pink ensemble. She flips the scarf off her face as she rushes to hug Henry.

“I haven't seen you in forever!” Laila says as she lets him go.

He hovers in the doorway. It's not often that humans see six GITs in one place. Add in that five are half naked, and Henry's face turns as red as mine feels.

He shoves the end of his T-shirt into his jeans. “Of all the days for my Batsuit to be at the cleaners.”

No one but me laughs at his joke. It's possible no one but me
gets
his joke.

“Wouldn't have pegged you as a costume party kind of girl, Azra,” Henry says. He nods to my mother, who enters the room from the kitchen. “Didn't mean to crash the party, Mrs. Nadira.”

“Oh, Henry.” My mother maneuvers herself to block his line of sight into the house. “You're welcome here any time.”

As much as she wants to mean this, she can't. The five scantily clad teenage Jinn behind her and the five grown Jinn levitating place settings in the dining room that I can see out of the corner of my eye are proof of that.

I move past my mother to steer Henry back onto the front porch. I stand with my hand on the edge of the door and lower my voice to a whisper. “Thanks for the key. Odds are, I'm going to need it.”

But, I realize, I don't. Even if I could manage to escape my own birthday party, I woke up this morning with my own way to unlock the gate.

“In that case,” Henry says, “I'll keep an eye out. I can't wait to see your costume.”

I snort. “Don't hold your breath. Unless you want to leave me that Batsuit. I could probably use the armor.”

Henry laughs as he walks backward down the steps. “
Bonne fête
, Azra.”

“Happy Birthday” in French.

“
Au revoir
, Henry!” all five of my Zar sisters chirp.

He raises his hand high in the air and waves to them over my head as he mouths “good luck.” Before I get to say good-bye, the door propels forward, throws off my hand, and closes with a bang in the face of the still-waving Henry.

My open jaw clenches shut as I turn around to see the smirk on Yasmin's face.

“What was that for?” I demand.

Yasmin twirls a long, raven-black curl around her finger and shrugs. “Some guests don't know when it's time to leave. They need a little prodding.”

“He
was
leaving. And he wasn't
your
guest.”

Looping her arm around Laila's waist, Yasmin says, “Your house is my house. After all, we're sisters, Azra.”

Like I need reminding.

Hana slides next to me and hooks her arm through mine. She whispers, “Wow, Azra. Those eyelashes. All day, I've been plotting how to pluck them off one by one and glue them to mine.”

With her glossy, tangerine-hued hair and teasingly freckled cheeks, Hana's exterior reflects her spirited interior. She has all of Yasmin's strength with none of Yasmin's edge.

“Don't let her spoil your day.” Hana pecks my cheek, and I realize maybe it's not so bad to be reminded of the sister part.

*   *   *

By the time us six GITs enter the dining room, our mothers have already expanded the table, conjured a mismatched array of plush, rainbow-colored chairs, and set out so much food, we'll be eating leftovers for a week.

More than six months have passed since the twelve of us have been in the same room together. Now, with all of us daughters except for Laila having transformed into full Jinn, it's like a room full of lead actors and their stunt doubles.

My mother takes a seat at one end of the table and gestures for me to perch myself at the other. I scoot in right before Samara and snag the chair she was angling for in between Laila and Hana.

Samara gives me a wink before rerouting herself to the seat at the head of the table. To her left is Lalla Nadia, whose auburn hair is a shade deeper than her daughter, Hana's. Nadia simultaneously dims the brass chandelier and lights what must be at least fifty candles spread out around the room.

Yasmin's mother, Lalla Raina, whose glossy black hair skims her hips, is seated to Samara's right. She levitates the wine bottle and begins pouring white wine in everyone's glasses, including those set in front of us girls.

My mother clears her throat. “Do you think that's wise, Raina?”

The shrug dripping off Raina's shoulders is an exact replica of the one Yasmin just gave me.

“What's the harm?” Raina says, eyeing the other mothers.

Lalla Isa, Farrah's mother, and Lalla Jada, Mina's mother, shoot a look across the table at one another that's the equivalent of one of my best eye rolls. Nadia nudges Samara's elbow.

The frequency of the Zar reunions that used to bring our entire group together has dropped in the past couple of years. I was naïve enough to think I was the reason.

I may be a reason but I'm not
the
reason.

Raina's brows dip down over her wide-set eyes. “They're all adults, except for little Laila here. And it's not like they're going to be driving.” She fixes her gaze on my mother. “You'd know best, Kalyssa, but that's the humans' biggest concern, isn't it?”

Yasmin, seated directly across from me, is already sipping her full glass.

No one else dares lay a finger on their wine stem.

Usually flapping away, Mina's delicate pink lips hang open. Her thumbs hover over her phone, frozen in mid-texting mode. The soft candlelight highlights the red tones in her rich mahogany hair as her eyes, lined with shimmery ice-blue eyeliner, dart from Lalla to Lalla.

Next to her, a jittery Farrah magically changes the color—pink then blue then yellow then green—of the rhinestones in the headband holding back her pin-straight hair. Dark brown with caramel highlights, her hair is the shortest at the table. The sharp angles hit her shoulders and the long bangs she leaves free of her headband graze her eyelashes, a style that no matter how cool it looks would have me scratching my eyes out.

The wine bottle travels in front of Samara, who stops it and says, “Considering our higher tolerance, a glass can't hurt, can it, Kal?”

My mother plasters on a smile. “Certainly not. It's a celebration.”

Samara then fills her glass without using magic. She's clumsier without her powers and accidentally knocks over the bottle as she rests it on the table.

Wine streams toward my aqua place setting. Instinctually, I douse the yellow tablecloth with some conjured seltzer water and then evaporate the liquid, leaving the fabric bone-dry and without a single splotch.

Samara claps. “Kalyssa, clearly you're an excellent teacher. I'm going to have to bring Laila over here for your tutelage.”

My mother holds up a hand. “It's got nothing to do with me. Azra's gifted. She was far more advanced when she woke up this morning than either of us were after a week. Probably a month.”

This is the first I've heard of this. My mother seemed pleased with my skills, but all day, she simply nodded each time I made something appear or disappear, or blow up or knit back together. She's probably exaggerating, like when she said I had a talent for gymnastics. She kept on encouraging me even though after every class she had to employ the power to heal fellow Jinn that comes with her gold bangle and stitch up an open wound on my forehead or mend a broken toe.

Isa waves her hand. “Well, naturally Azra's gifted. She's your daughter, Kalyssa.”

Now Jada and Raina share a look, and Nadia's the one clearing her throat.

Boy was I
na-ïve.

Nadia swivels her head to address the entire table. “And that's wonderful news for the girls' Zar. Strength in numbers.”

Over the rim of the wineglass she's already drained by half, Yasmin narrows her eyes at me.

She's giving me attitude? After what
she
just did? The gate key calls to me from my front pocket. Pushing back against my desire to flee, I change the subject and say to Yasmin, “You shouldn't have done that to Henry.”

She points at her ample chest and widens her gold eyes. “Me? What did I do?”

“You slammed the door in our neighbor's face.” I look at my mother. “Our
human
neighbor's face.”

Though I'm more concerned with her insulting Henry, I say the second part because I know it will rankle our elders.

My mother chokes on her chicken. “Using magic?”

Though Yasmin's only response is to lower her eyes to her plate, I nod vigorously. It's followed by an equally strong nod from Laila and, to my surprise, from Hana.

Raina puts her fork down. “Did he notice?”

Sitting up straighter in her chair, Yasmin says, “Certainly not. I'm no amateur.”

“Well,” Raina says, “no cause for alarm. Besides, what good are powers if you can't have a little fun every once in a while? Especially with the humans?”

The tip of my mother's knife spears a cherry tomato. Seeds spurt past her plate, creating a polka-dot pattern on the tablecloth.

Raina's, and now Yasmin's, dismissiveness of humans has always been a source of contention for my mother.