I took a deep breath, as I looked at Mom and Dad. “Folks, before you say anything, I didn’t call you on my cell, which was wrong of me. I apologize. What happened tonight was, I started tutoring a girl in Trig, and that sort-of developed into an orgy.”

Both my parents blinked, hearing that.

After a pause, Mom asked, “Do you believe him, Steve?”

Dad said, “Yes. Because if that’s the bullshit story, I can’t imagine what the truth might be.”

Inwardly, I gave a sigh of relief. Then I said, “Mom, Dad, I do want to talk about this—but on Saturday, okay?”

Ten seconds later, I was walking toward the stairs. Reader, you’ve heard the saying, “Honesty is the best policy”? Well, one reason for this is that honest answers sometimes cut interrogations short.

As I was climbing the stairs, I thought, If the doorbell rings now, I’m getting out my lamp and rubbing it. If my bedroom catches fire, I’m getting out my lamp and rubbing it. If someone calls me up and tells me that all final exams have been rescheduled for tomorrow, I’m getting out my lamp and rubbing it.

No more of this “I’m a goody-two-shoes, straight-A student who always does his homework first.” That’s not thinking fourth-dimensionally.

Once in my bedroom, I locked my bedroom door. About thirty seconds later, Fatima was smiling at me. “Master!” she said.

“Shh,” I said. “My parents are still awake, and I can’t have them hearing you.”

Fatima asked (quietly), “Have your last two days, fourteen hours, and twenty-seven minutes been interesting?”

“Yeah, you might say that. Touch my forehead, get caught up.”

When Fatima was done memory-reading me, she was smiling. I asked her, “Things turn out the way you expect?”

“No. You’ve desired your biology teacher for three years. Yet when you had the chance to claim her as one of your women, you sent her away instead.”

I blushed. “She had a boyfriend, a chemistry teacher over at Oscar Grant High School. Their sex was good, and she was hoping they’d get married. Why mess all that up just so I’d have a reliable supply of condoms?”

I yawned. “Listen, Fatima, I haven’t got much time before I’m too tired to think straight. When do I quit growing and changing?”

She answered, “Saturday morning. When you and Harold go to the party on Saturday night, you’ll be in your final forms.”

“So my next question is, why are Harold and I becoming whatever we’re becoming?”

“Harold is becoming what Natasha has secretly wanted in a lover. Which also makes Harold unable to bully you. Why you are becoming bigger and stronger and sexier—that takes explaining, Master. The short version is, you’re this way because Anna Kay’s perfect man is this way, and because you were kind to me last Friday.”

“Oh, wow. I definitely need to follow up on that. One last question for tonight: Tomorrow I meet with Aunt Esther, who’s challenging my inheritance. But she’s wasting her time, right? Your wish-grant means that no matter what, I’ll be the person who inherits, right?”

“No, Master. I perhaps have wronged you. I—”

“Good god, what’s gone wrong?”

“I sifted your memories and then decided that Uncle Thomas was the most likely challenger to the will. Well, the ‘magic pheromones’ would make him easy to beat. I did nothing about Aunt Esther.”

“The magic pheromones won’t work on Aunt Esther?”

“I feel awful, Master. I’ve made a huge mistake. Your magic pheromones don’t work on Harold, Natasha, Anna Kay, your parents, Cousin Regina, Cousin Annabelle, or any of your aunts.”

“Well, fuck a duck,” I said. Then I couldn’t help but yawn.

I looked at Fatima and said, “I’ve got homework to do now, and don’t be surprised if I fall asleep doing it. So until tomorrow morning, don’t let my parents see you, don’t let my neighbors see you enter or leave the house, and if you leave the house, be back here by 6:30 tomorrow morning.”

“You’re not sending me back into the lamp?”

“When I go to school, yes. But now? How long has it been since you’ve had breakfast in Cairo, or Baghdad, or Tunisia, or wherever your hometown is?”

She stood there on green-smoke “legs,” looking at me, and I swear tears formed in her eyes. “You are so kind, O Master,” she said. Suddenly she moved forward and kissed me on the mouth. She kept the kiss going for several seconds, then she moved back. “I am glad that you are my master, Marvin Harper.”

Then FOOM—Fatima was gone.