Free Sealed with a Wish by Rose David Page A

purring sound filled the garage. He looked like I would have in the high-end lens section of a camera shop, unattended and armed with a credit card. As I remembered my camera, I gasped and rescued the little point-and-shoot from my pocket. Maybe the magic from my wish-granting had frazzled it somehow. I wasn’t sure if magic and microchips played well together.
    Sean got out to snatch the garage door opener from his old sports car (which suddenly looked like a clunker compared to the silver beauty next to it). As he passed me, I snapped a photo and caught him in mid-stride. The flash fired like usual, and I was glad to see that the photo that lit up the back screen looked okay.
    Sean settled back into the driver’s seat, and I expected him to coast away with his new toy without another glance at me. But he only smiled wider. “Get in,” he said, a tease creeping into his voice. “It’s really real.”
    A thousand excuses bubbled to my mouth, but I hesitated, not quite saying no, but not getting into the car, either.
    “Come on! You did all the work. I owe you a ride around the block, at least,” he said.
    Well, when he put it like that ...
    I hopped into the passenger’s seat, my bare arms sliding against the supple leather interior.
    As we slid down the driveway, Sean sighed. “This thing is awesome.”
    I wasn’t a car-lover, but I had to nod in agreement. We coasted past Sean’s house, rolling smoothly down the street as if on a cushion.
    One wish down, I thought. Two more to go.

CHAPTER NINE
     
    “Damn, that thing is sick ,” said Rajesh, admiration dripping off his voice like butter.
    Nat wrinkled her nose as we passed Sean’s new car in the parking lot. “It’s so flashy, though.”
    “Yeah,” Raj said reverently, his big brown eyes turning misty.
    Sean had been driving the Aston Martin to school for a few days now. Most of the student body had been pretty impressed, though a few hold-outs (mostly granola-chewing hippies or art-school wannabes like Natalie and me) had been less than appreciative.
    Under normal circumstances, I’d be making jokes about sports cars as male enhancement tools, but I knew that Raj (and every other guy in school) was right to be jealous. After riding in the Aston Martin for an hour last Thursday, I could almost see why someone would dump hundreds of thousands of dollars into a car.
    Of course, I’d meant to ask Sean to circle back to the house and drop me off, but I guess I was just a sucker for that new car smell. Soon enough, it had been time for dinner, so we grabbed a bite at McDonald’s and cruised around for a little while longer. I smiled as I remembered how the drive-thru guy’s eyeballs had almost popped out.
    Nat and I were ready to keep walking toward the McDonald’s down the block, but Rajesh was like a bear caught in a trap. “You’d have to sell a kidney to get one of these in the States,” he said, leaning closer to the glistening silver finish.
    Sell a kidney, have a genie. Same difference.
    “Is it a... Porsche or something?” Nat asked.
    “It’s an Aston Martin DBS Volante,” Rajesh and I said at the same time.
    He and Nat looked it me in surprise, and I felt my cheeks go warm. “What, I can’t know a few things about cars?”
    “I didn’t know you were into this stuff, Layla,” said Rajesh. “You always look bored when I talk about it.”
    “Totally not bored,” I said. “I just... Umm... I think that’s how my face looks.” It wasn’t supposed to be a joke, but Raj and Natalie both laughed, so I did the same.
    We walked away from Sean’s Aston Martin, and as we cut through the school parking lot, I tried not to curse too loudly at the idiots pulling blindly out of their parking spaces as we passed. This part of lunch always gave me a minor heart attack, but, somehow, Nat and Raj never batted an eye at the careless drivers zooming past us.
    In between dodging cars, Raj and Nat discussed the performances at improv last Friday. I