Page 41 of The Good Boy

“You know, you are a really nice person, Rory,” I tell him again.

“So are you, Genie,” he says. “You are the best person I know.”

When he says it I want to believe him, and I’ve almost decided to, when the bell on the door rings and Nanna Maria walks in in a hot-pink wrap dress and a huge pair of fake Gucci shades.

“Brace yourself, my darlings,” she announces. “For I have tidings from the motherland.”

Chapter Fifteen

“Death,” I say. “Are you serious?”

“I’m afraid so, darling,” Nanna Maria says. She pauses, looking around as if she can detect some unseen residue in the air.

“Have you already had a client in this morning? Why didn’t she wait for me?”

“Turns out that Rory has a knack for this,” I say. “Death? You are telling me that the only way for the wish I made to be reversed and for Rory to be turned back into a dog is death? What does that mean? Do we have to find someone and kill them, because I can think of a few candidates...”

“No, Genie.” Nanna Maria sighs. “No, if you had wished for something for yourself and changed your mind then it would be your death that would reverse the wish.”

“I’d call that less of a reversal and more of a termination,” I say.

“But as it is, the only way for Rory to become a dog again is for... well, for him to die.”

“Not doing that,” Rory says. “That is a big no from me. What’s the alternative?”

“There is an alternative, right?” I ask Nanna, circling the table toward her.

“What part about ‘the only way’ do you not understand, dear?”Nanna Maria asks. Rory and I look at each other. Rory sits down on the floor and then rolls backward, where he lies prone, staring at the disco ball. Rory can’t accept that there is “no alternative” and neither can I. This can’t really be happening, right?

“Only me. Only I could be granted an actual once-in-a-lifetime magical wish and fuck it up this badly,” I say, tangling my fingers in my hair. “Yep, that’s some grade-A Eugenie Wilson for you. The Unluckiest Girl in the World—”

“Stop that right now,” Nanna Maria says. “For goodness’ sake, girl, you are not in the least bit unlucky. Or at least not more than the next person.”

“Er!” I exclaim, gesturing with some emphasis toward my dog-human, who is lying prone on the floor while the processing chip of his brain readsError 404.

“That is not bad luck,” Nanna Maria says. “That is bad judgment, and now you must consider how to make the best of the situation.”

“I hate it when you are right,” I say unhappily.

Nanna Maria smiles, turning on her high heels to head for the kitchen.

“There is one alternative,” she says in an offhand way.

“What?” Rory sits up.

“What?” I demand.

“Well, it’s not so much dead cert, pardon the pun, as a possibility...”

Rory and I wait till Nanna Maria boils the kettle and makes a cup of tea. We both know there is no point in trying to hurry her up, that she will tell us when she is ready and not a moment before, because Nanna Maria is infuriating like that.

“What?” we repeat in unison as she appears from the kitchen carrying aBest Psychic Evermug.

“I didn’t mention it before because, well, Genie, you have never really embraced the notion of...”

“What?” I ask her.

“Self-reflection and improvement,” Nan says. “But specifically, your own magic.”

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