Wish by Alexandra Bullen

he was looking at her. And not in a way that made her feel crazy, or like maybe she had arugula wedged between her teeth. Really looking at her. Like for one reason or another she’d caught his eye, and he couldn’t figure out how to look away. Like maybe he’d run out of things to say, not because he wasn’t interested. But maybe because he was nervous, too?
    The bathroom door swung open and Graham stepped out, clapping Soren on the back as he passed.
    “I should…” Soren pointed at the bathroom and Olivia nodded vigorously.
    “Right, so,” she said, gesturing for him to go ahead. “Good luck!”
    He smiled, a sweet, lopsided little grin, and closed the door between them.
    Olivia nestled herself against the wall on the other side of the bathroom door. It wasn’t until the band was back onstage a few minutes later that she realized it had sounded like she’d wished him good luck with the toilet.
    Graham was already gripping the mic and hushing the noisy crowd as Soren snuck out of the bathroom and headed back for the stage.
    “So, since this year’s party fell right on the equinox, we thought we’d do a little countdown to spring,” he explained, wrapping his guitar strap over his chest and plucking out a few notes. “Can I get some help up here, Eve?”
    From across the room, the miniature girl with purple fingernails Olivia had first seen sitting on Graham’s lap in the courtyard appeared and bounded up to join the band. She wasdressed in a candy red skirt with a hedgehog embroidered on one side, leggings, and an oversize black sweatshirt that had been cut at the collar. Her feet were bare and dirty from working outside.
    “Who’s ready for some sun?”
    The crowd roared. Soren leaned forward over his drums, peering out into the crowd and squinting. He was clearly looking for someone, his neck craning sideways and swiveling around the room. Until he was looking directly at Olivia. His mouth was open and he gave her a little beckoning wave, one hand now shielding his eyes from the halogen-lamp spotlight that hung from a crossbeam in the ceiling.
    The little veins in Olivia’s neck pulsed and fuzzy black spots appeared in the corner of her eyes. Could this really be happening?
    The other band members, a beefy kid with long, blond dreadlocks playing the bass, and a balding guy at the keyboards who looked at least thirty, were each joined by girls from the crowd, and Soren was still smiling. And waving. At her.
    Olivia inhaled, fueling the Jell-O-like wobble in her belly, and took a step forward. Just then, rustling footsteps approached from behind her, a cascade of silky, jet-black hair whipping her in the face as a blurry figure hustled by.
    “I’m coming, I’m coming,” the girl called out as she ran up onto the stage, hopping next to Soren. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her tight to his side.
    Calla. The glowing earth goddess Miles had pointed out at lunch. And, if possible, she looked even more naturally beautiful than she had before, in dark, faded jeans, a ribbedwhite tank top, and chocolate brown flip-flops, her glossy, tanned skin glistening in the spotlight, her almond eyes dark and mysterious.
    “Five…four…three…”
    Graham was counting, people were yelling, the world was spinning…
    Olivia’s face felt like it was about to explode. All around her, people were hugging and clapping, so she clapped, too. Until she realized that the band had started to play and she was still clapping, and now she was the new girl in the fancy dress, clapping to herself in the corner.
    The bathroom was empty when she peeked behind the door, and so she locked herself inside, wondering if she’d survive a jump from the window.
    And wondering if she cared.
    “No throw up.”
    Olivia was slumped in the back of the cab she’d flagged at the end of Graham’s block, her head bobbing against the cool, foggy glass. The bearded driver squinted at her through the rearview mirror, carefully