Today’s excerpt is from my novel-in-progress, A Handful of Wishes, about a kid, Zeke, who has a wish-granting genie, Paribanu. While originally set in Chicago, the novel has decided it now wants to take place in Detroit. I’m headed there later this week (then to Toronto – fingers crossed Canadian immigration doesn’t want to run a background check again – and Niagara Falls), so I plan to scope out the city and see if it’s feasible to set the story there. Any tips on places to go and things to do are appreciated!
In this scene, the start of the second section, Individualism and Exchange, Zeke is twelve, and he last saw his genie’s bottle four years prior, when he threw it away after blaming Paribanu for his parents’ deaths (he wished he’d never see them again, and he always gets exactly what he wishes for). It’s the end of the school day and he’s just discovered Paribanu’s bottle sitting in his locker.
He extended a finger and prodded the bottle; nothing happened, although he wasn’t sure really what to expect: maybe a flash of light, a puff of smoke, even Paribanu standing next to him. Could other people see her? What would they think if they saw her? More importantly, what would they think about him?
He grabbed the bottle and shook it slightly, but again nothing happened. He tried to think back to his last wishes; the bottle had remained dark afterwards. A recharge period, probably, or maybe it wasn’t even the right bottle.
Only one way to find out.
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