had my name on it, so I opened it up, and there was a brass lamp inside.”
“What, like a table lamp?”
“No!” I scooped the thing off the counter, belatedly admiring its graceful curves in the overhead light. “An oil lamp. You know, like the one Aladdin comes out of?”
“I know about Aladdin,” Amy said wryly. Justin loved the Disney movie—he could watch that blue-faced genie for hours on end. “So, what was it? A housewarming present?”
“That’s what I thought. But when I took it out of the box, it was filthy. I started to polish it, and a—” Suddenly, I couldn’t speak. My throat slammed closed, the words trapped inside my lungs. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Sorry. I polished it, and a—”
The same thing happened. This wasn’t like getting a frog in my throat. Instead, it felt like my vocal chords simply disappeared. I couldn’t speak because my body was no longer capable of making sound.
“What?” Amy said, and then she enunciated with cell-phone exasperation. “I. Can’t. Hear. You. You’re. Break. Ing. Up.”
I stared at my phone. I was on the landline; my cell was buried somewhere deep in my tote bag. “Sorry,” I said again, flooded with relief that I could get the word out. I proceeded with caution, testing each word before thinking it, before dropping it into a carefully phrased summary of what had happened. “I…rubbed…the…lamp…and…a—”
That was it. I couldn’t say genie. Or fog. Or magic.
I couldn’t tell Amy what had happened.
That policeman had more than killer biceps up his sleeves. He was somehow controlling my ability to talk. I sighed and tried to come up with something that would keep Amy from thinking I’d totally lost my mind. “I rubbed the lamp and set it on my bookshelf,” I finally finished weakly. “I think Justin will really like it—he can pretend that he’s in that movie, flying on a magic carpet.”
“That’s why you called?” Amy sounded a bit put out.
“Um, yeah.” I had to say something else. “I miss you guys. Thanks for letting me stay there the past couple of days.”
“Any time. But the next time you’re here, you get broccoli patrol. Plus you get Justin ready for bed.”
“It’s a deal,” I said, relieved that she’d bought my dissembling. “Go give him his bath. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Okay. That had been totally bizarre. Why couldn’t I tell Amy about the jeweled lights that had poured out of the lamp, about the policeman genie, about my wishes? I held my hand in front of my eyes, studying the barely visible flames tattooed across my fingertips. What other powers did Teel hold over me?
Before I could seriously consider summoning him back to the kitchen, my stomach growled. Loudly. All of a sudden, I was ravenous. I’d grabbed a bowl of cereal at Amy’s in the morning, and a granola bar for a makeshift lunch as I was running to the Mercer box office for my shift.
A quick check of the pantry, the fridge and the freezer proved that Becca had done an excellent job emptying her kitchen for me. Nothing remained, not even the packets of soy sauce and Chinese mustard that filled at least one drawer in every Manhattan apartment I’d ever visited.
Well, it wasn’t like I was living in the middle of the Gobi Desert. It was time to learn my way around my new neighborhood.
After a moment’s hesitation, I returned the genie lamp to its box and stowed both away in my bedroom closet. By that time, I was actually feeling shaky, I’d become so hungry. I grabbed my coat and my keys, threw my tote bag over my shoulder and quick-walked to the elevator.
Standing on the sidewalk outside my building, I tossed a mental coin. Heads. Turn left.
Halfway to the corner, I was assaulted by the fragrance of baking bread. All of a sudden, I was catapulted back to childhood, to a school field trip to the Mrs. Harton’s Bread Factory. I could practically taste the hot-baked bread, pulled fresh from the
“What, like a table lamp?”
“No!” I scooped the thing off the counter, belatedly admiring its graceful curves in the overhead light. “An oil lamp. You know, like the one Aladdin comes out of?”
“I know about Aladdin,” Amy said wryly. Justin loved the Disney movie—he could watch that blue-faced genie for hours on end. “So, what was it? A housewarming present?”
“That’s what I thought. But when I took it out of the box, it was filthy. I started to polish it, and a—” Suddenly, I couldn’t speak. My throat slammed closed, the words trapped inside my lungs. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Sorry. I polished it, and a—”
The same thing happened. This wasn’t like getting a frog in my throat. Instead, it felt like my vocal chords simply disappeared. I couldn’t speak because my body was no longer capable of making sound.
“What?” Amy said, and then she enunciated with cell-phone exasperation. “I. Can’t. Hear. You. You’re. Break. Ing. Up.”
I stared at my phone. I was on the landline; my cell was buried somewhere deep in my tote bag. “Sorry,” I said again, flooded with relief that I could get the word out. I proceeded with caution, testing each word before thinking it, before dropping it into a carefully phrased summary of what had happened. “I…rubbed…the…lamp…and…a—”
That was it. I couldn’t say genie. Or fog. Or magic.
I couldn’t tell Amy what had happened.
That policeman had more than killer biceps up his sleeves. He was somehow controlling my ability to talk. I sighed and tried to come up with something that would keep Amy from thinking I’d totally lost my mind. “I rubbed the lamp and set it on my bookshelf,” I finally finished weakly. “I think Justin will really like it—he can pretend that he’s in that movie, flying on a magic carpet.”
“That’s why you called?” Amy sounded a bit put out.
“Um, yeah.” I had to say something else. “I miss you guys. Thanks for letting me stay there the past couple of days.”
“Any time. But the next time you’re here, you get broccoli patrol. Plus you get Justin ready for bed.”
“It’s a deal,” I said, relieved that she’d bought my dissembling. “Go give him his bath. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Okay. That had been totally bizarre. Why couldn’t I tell Amy about the jeweled lights that had poured out of the lamp, about the policeman genie, about my wishes? I held my hand in front of my eyes, studying the barely visible flames tattooed across my fingertips. What other powers did Teel hold over me?
Before I could seriously consider summoning him back to the kitchen, my stomach growled. Loudly. All of a sudden, I was ravenous. I’d grabbed a bowl of cereal at Amy’s in the morning, and a granola bar for a makeshift lunch as I was running to the Mercer box office for my shift.
A quick check of the pantry, the fridge and the freezer proved that Becca had done an excellent job emptying her kitchen for me. Nothing remained, not even the packets of soy sauce and Chinese mustard that filled at least one drawer in every Manhattan apartment I’d ever visited.
Well, it wasn’t like I was living in the middle of the Gobi Desert. It was time to learn my way around my new neighborhood.
After a moment’s hesitation, I returned the genie lamp to its box and stowed both away in my bedroom closet. By that time, I was actually feeling shaky, I’d become so hungry. I grabbed my coat and my keys, threw my tote bag over my shoulder and quick-walked to the elevator.
Standing on the sidewalk outside my building, I tossed a mental coin. Heads. Turn left.
Halfway to the corner, I was assaulted by the fragrance of baking bread. All of a sudden, I was catapulted back to childhood, to a school field trip to the Mrs. Harton’s Bread Factory. I could practically taste the hot-baked bread, pulled fresh from the
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