Circle of Jinn by Lori Goldstein Page A

to fix.”
    He then begins to tell my mother—our mother—how Xavier sent him here without the Afrit’s knowledge, let alone consent. Because in just a few more days, my delay in granting Megan’s wish would have been discovered. Zak was the only one Xavier trusted to see what was taking me so long.
    But Zak wasn’t supposed to risk getting into contact with our mother or revealing himself to me. He confirms what little my mother has told me: that a growing number of Jinn do want to challenge the Afrit. Xavier—it might take time to call him “Dad”—has been working to prevent a true revolt of this faction in Janna, hoping to change things diplomatically instead. He’s deep into his plans to win over the council, to convince them to reverse all of the restrictions the Afrit have put in place over the years.
    Zak doesn’t seem to know more. I can’t tell whether my mother knows more and isn’t telling or there isn’t more to know. All her diary said is that she’s been under pressure from both Raina and Samara to admit that things couldn’t go on as they have been and that it was time to do something about it. She’s been too afraid to risk it, writing in her diary that she’s lost too much already. I now know that “too much” means Zak.
    Though I want to know more about all of this, my mother wants to know more about Zak. While she asks him about his favorite food (cookies, especially ones made with mescouta, which I learn are dates), I head into the kitchen to put together a plate of snacks. Clearing the skeletons out of the closet has made us all hungry.
    And Zak is quite an old skeleton. Nineteen years old, to be exact. They all lived together as a family before I was born. I never got the chance to be a part of the full Nadira clan—the full Afrit-Nadira clan. Zak left with our father shortly after I was born, when the Afrit commanded all males to return to Janna.
    Their time together was short, but it’s more than I’ve ever had. Even if you add up all the times they visited, it doesn’t equal three years. Still, my mother chose me. I can’t be bitter about what could have been, especially when what could have been could have been a hell of a lot worse.
    The wish I’ve made on every birthday, on every shooting star, on every eyelash since I can remember, the wish I thought could never come true, has. I have the family I’ve always wanted.
    But the holes—left by my father, left by Jenny, left by the Afrit who forced us to lose so much of our lives together—are still there.
    The difference is, I’m ready to fill them.
    I load on the pita chips and plop an extra scoop of hummus on the mosaic-tiled plate because we are now three.

 
    11
    When I wake up, it’s like nothing has changed. The lilac bush under my window fills my room with the same sweet, floral scent. My wardrobe spills from my closet in the same boring black, white, and gray color scheme. The framed picture of Jenny and me kneeling on the grass with the tiny Laila standing on our backs sits in the same spot on my nightstand.
    My entire world has changed, but nothing in this room shows it.
    With the tingle of pins and needles down my spine, Zak apps into my bedroom.
    There, that’s better.
    He rests on the end of my bed. He’s wearing the same clothes he arrived in that first day.
    â€œMom doing your laundry?” I ask.
    When I went to bed last night, the two of them were still on the couch. I’ve had days alone with Zak. My mother deserved some private time with him—and he with her. I heard them talking, softly, until I fell asleep. In a house that’s normally silent once I burrow under my down comforter, it was strange. And nice.
    Zak fiddles with the silver beads around his neck. “Considering I’m not supposed to be here, I can’t exactly return in human garb.”
    â€œReturn?” I say