Sealed with a Wish Read Free

unfortunate wish by his mother (my grandmother). I’m guessing that’s why he was so surprised to find that his special condition had suddenly disappeared after that spring break fling with my mom.
    Yeah, that’s right. I’m the product of a college hook-up. If someone asks how my parents met, I have to tell them to be more specific. Like, do they want to hear about how my mom got knocked up by some random Eurotrash guy who just happened to be a genie? Or do they want to know how Mom met my stepdad a few years later? (Though it’s weird to think of Dad like that. I mean, he’s been my father ever since I could remember, even if he’s not technically my “real” dad.)
    Mom didn’t realize I was a genie until after I was born. By then, my bio-dad was long gone, but he was kind enough to give her a pretty ruby ring “to remember him by.” Yeah, right.
    Since she technically had possession of the ring, her off-hand wish to get rid of her baby weight ended up coming true. For that, I like to think I’ll always be her favorite daughter, and not just because I’m an only child. Mom used her second wish to track down my bio-dad, who I’m told was partying hard in Ibiza. I’m not sure what Mom did to him--the most she’ll admit to is some vague stuff about “incriminating photos”--but he finally told her what was really going on.
    Turns out that geniehood can be genetic, or at least it is when it comes to weird, rare cases like mine. I guess that means that, one day, I might marry Chace Crawford and pop out a little genie of my own. At the very least, this makes an excellent case for me to devote my life to raising orphaned ponies or something.
    So, basically, I’m half-human, half-genie. I’ve got some powers, but my wishes never turn out the way I want them, like when I was nine and wished to go to Disney World. Oh, I got myself there--but without any parents or money or a place to stay. I rode some rides and hung out with Mickey for a while, but that’s all.
    The rest of the story involves Dad paying a ton of money for a last-minute plane ticket to Orlando, and then having to hunt for me in Disney World before some security guard assumed I had run away or something. So I’m pretty careful when I say the words, “I wish,” but sometimes I slip a little, like this morning.
    After school, I changed out of my borrowed pants, determined to forget the sensation of Sean Fabry’s vomit all over my legs.
    I dumped the Mom Jeans into my closet, planning to sneak them into the laundry tonight after manning Nat’s charity booth at the soccer game. Natalie had already caught a ride with our friend, Rajesh, so all I had to do was get changed and walk back to school. I knew it would have been faster to ride my bike (there were trails all over town because of some “green” initiative a couple of years ago), but the idea of being seen on a bicycle, looking like some random fifteen-year-old, made me cringe.
    Not that I wasn’t fifteen-years-old or anything, but there was no reason for me to emphasize my lack of a driver’s license, was there? Something about my bike just felt so... junior high. Even if it would add another ten minutes to my trip, I’d rather hoof it back to school than pedal there on my ten-speed.
    I dumped my shirt into the hamper and grabbed a fresh pair of jeans. I had only just pulled them on when Mom walked in.
    I yelped and covered my bare chest with my arms. “Hey!”
    “Oh, sorry.”
    “I thought we agreed to start knocking around here.” With one arm, I fumbled for the scoop-neck shirt I had laid out on the bed.
    “Sorry, honey. I was just going to ask if--”
    “Yeah?” I pulled my shirt on and looked up at Mom, stiffening as I saw the expression on her face.
    Her gaze turned sharp as she stepped into my bedroom. “Layla Yasmin Sadat-Grubman.”
    Uh-oh. I flinched under the Power of the Full Name. To me, that was even more potent than, ‘I wish...’ Looking down at my