Free Circle of Jinn by Lori Goldstein Page A

why things have been weird. He’s the one responsible, but apparently that responsibility doesn’t translate to being the one to initiate talking about it.
    â€œSo,” I start, “the funeral was—”
    â€œSad.”
    â€œStrange.” I pause, waiting for him to take the lead.
    â€œBrought up a lot of emotions about … stuff that’s … complicated because of other … stuff.”
    â€œEloquent.”
    â€œI try.”
    I’m really going to miss him. But talking about this further will only make things between us even weirder. So I drop it. “I’ll visit whenever I can, and you’ll be better at texting?”
    â€œIs that what you want?”
    â€œOf course. Who wouldn’t want their best friend to text them back?”
    â€œIs that what I am?” He stares at me, his Granny Smith–green eyes unblinking.
    â€œAlways.”
    He smiles and winces at the same time. He sminces.
    And I feel like a guilty, ungrateful liar and phony all at the same time.
    On the run, Nate catches a ball from his teammate and flings it into the goal from halfway down the field. I don’t have to know anything about lacrosse to know he’s on his way to that scholarship.
    â€œThat confirms it,” I say. “My dragooning seems to have left Nate unscathed.”
    Henry’s lips thin. “Technically. But I think it’s cheating not to feel the hurt.”
    He’s thinking of Jenny. Of leaving the house where Jenny last lived. Maybe even of leaving me? Would that change if he knew the one secret I’m still keeping from him is all about Jenny?
    Once the Afrit forced their way to power, many of the rules surrounding the Jinn and wish granting were changed, including where males and females are allowed to live, which humans are eligible to have a wish granted, and how we access our powers. They came up with a way to block our inherent magic and release it on their terms. The bangles we female Jinn wear and the necklaces the males—apparently, as I’ve learned from Zak—wear unlock our powers.
    That’s the rule.
    I’m the exception.
    Turns out, maybe because of my Afrit ancestry, I don’t need a bangle to do magic.
    Knowledge I have that part of me wishes I didn’t. Because it means Jenny, Henry’s sister, my best friend from birth to age nine, didn’t just fall from the swings in our backyard. It means she fell because of me. My mother thought she’d found a way around my anomaly. This A necklace I wear that Nate loves so much? It’s a fake.
    The real one, the one that belonged to the grandmother I’m named after, is spelled to inhibit my magic. My mother made sure I wore it every day of my life until the day I turned sixteen, when she stealthily swapped it out for this one I’m currently wearing. One of the few times the spelled A left my neck was the day Jenny died.
    That day, with my necklace off, my nine-year-old self unconsciously tapped into my powers to push us higher on the swings. To push us to the sky. I never intended for Jenny to fall to the ground.
    My mother’s magic couldn’t fix what my magic had done.
    I know I should tell Henry the truth. But I can’t. I can’t bear to see him look at me the way I now have to look at myself.
    It may be cheating not to feel the hurt, but right now, I’d give anything to be a cheat.

 
    9
    Beepity beep beep!
    As Henry and I near the parking lot, “other stuff” rolls right in.
    â€œHey, Chelsea,” I say as she waves through the open roof of her convertible.
    She unsnaps her seat belt and springs up, kneeling on the driver’s seat. She thrusts her boobs at us. “Whaddya think?”
    The daisies on her breasts look lovely. She’s wearing the floral cardigan from the mall.
    â€œYou were right, Azra,” Chelsea says, bouncing in her seat. I don’t know how much of a leader she is, but