Oversized photographs lined the walls bordering dual sides of the main hallway. Rows of youthful smiles dated all the way back to the meager beginnings of the toaster shaped school. 1950 was engraved on a brass plate at the base of the very first shot.

Up until 1980, boys football was the center of the school's athletics, it was then, boy's basketball joined the shrine. Unfortunately, the girls teams were not worthy of sharing the portrait wall. However, their accomplishments in volleyball and basketball collected dust on the lower shelf among the championship trophies in the display case.

As one of the teachers left the office, I swung inside. The principal's door was ajar so I took the liberty of entering her cubicle.

A short woman with thick glasses and a simple nun's veil sat filling out requisition forms. She wore a scowl as she scribbled the order numbers and the costs of materials for the school. Her face reminded me of a scrawny bird and the strands of unruly hair, delicate feathers.

I watched the clock above and it took Miss Holloway an hour before she appeared with Margaret. The Sister gazed up from her work and motioned them inside.

The Sister's eyes reflected a softness as Margaret's gaze fell to the floor with uncertainty.

"What do we owe this honor Miss Holloway?" The nun asked in an abrupt accent foreign to the Midwest.

"Sister Theresa Marie, Margaret Baker was actually the vandal who poured the compost martini into her own desk."

Sister Theresa Marie sighed, as a slight grin of amusement pursed her lips.

"What would prompt you to do such a thing?" Sister Theresa asked in a calm voice.

Margaret made eye contact with the nun who was surprisingly nonchalant about the entire revelation.

"I don't know..." Margaret whispered.

"Well that sort of thing is not very nice, now is it?" Sister asked with gentleness.

"No Sister."

"You'll never do it again, right?"

"No Sister, I'll never do it again."

The way the nun was treating Margaret was disturbing. Not two hours prior, Melissa faced the wrath of the discipline stick and now, Margaret was practically being offered the finest of chocolates.

"Let that be a lesson to you!" Sister Theresa mentioned with a smile.

"Yes ma'am." The girl responded as a mischievous smirk lined the borders of her mouth.

"Go back to class now, I'd like a word with your teacher."

After Margaret Baker scampered away, Miss Holloway closed the door behind.

"We've got a problem Sister Theresa." Miss Holloway began.

The sister gazed up at her with a combination of surprise and annoyance.

"Missy Bland's Aunt was visiting my classroom today and she witnessed Missy cleaning out the disgusting sludge from Margaret's desk. Upon her insistence, I searched a bag under Margaret's coat. Sure enough we realized we had jumped to the wrong conclusion... Missy was not the culprit."

"So?" The Sister snapped.

"The Aunt insisted that we enforce the same punishment on Margaret as we did on Missy."

The nun's jaw dropped with disbelief. "Oh, we can't do that!"

"She's going to have Missy's father telephone you about it later."

Sister Theresa scooted her wooden chair to the side cabinet and retrieved two manila file folders. She bent both lips open and slid the information across the desk.

I floated over to view the importance of the information along side of Miss Holloway.

Bland, Melissa Anne... it read. Inside it was stated that she was a charity case. Her father only paid half tuition and with that, he was two months behind in payment. A small notation indicated obscure facts about a tragic accident and the death of Melissa's mother. The word compassion was mentioned twice and the signature authorizing the arrangement was that of the church's pastor.

IN contrast, Baker, Margaret Suzanne, was not only up to date with her tuition, her parents contributed an extra ten thousand dollars in donations to the school. Her father's flooring company installed a new gymnasium floor worth sixty thousand dollars in materials and labor, free of charge.

Miss Holloway nodded her head. "I realized Margie's mother volunteered a lot of her time, but I had no idea the magnitude of the families generosity to the school."

"It's true and I wouldn't jeopardize their contributions no matter what little Margaret does."

"What about Missy's Aunt Jeanne and what she witnessed?"

"We'll tell the father that we took care of it in a way we deemed fair."

The teacher nodded and a sour expression pursed her lips. She paused momentarily as if going to add her opinion, but in the end, decided not to rise up against the authority of the principal. Miss Holloway then headed out the door, her clicking heels dissolved as she furthered herself from the office.

I stood a moment pondering the injustice of the situation. An instant later, I crawled up onto the desk and cemented my feet to the thick of both folders. When Sister Theresa attempted to tug the manila squares, I held firm.

"What the heck?" She asked pulling with all her might.

I took a deep breath, then materialized in my grandest of imaginings. Stars of light danced from my outline. Sunlight from the stained glass window above twirled as supreme rays fell into an unbelievable glow. A scream fell from Sister Theresa's lips as she immediately knelt on the floor before the desk in a humble manner.

"An Angel of God!" Sister exclaimed.

I nodded, not correcting her assumption. Although it was the correct league, angels were one notch away from the almighty, genies were near the bottom of the barrel.

"I'm here to rectify the situation with Melissa. If you use a stick on one, you must use a stick on the other! Remember what Jesus did to the merchants in the temple? Monetary gain is not important here either. Children need to be treated equal no matter what financial benefits you stand to loose. Now I suspect you'll reconsider your position and do the right thing."

Sister Theresa's bottom lip began to quiver.

"Do you agree?" I asked with a deep tone.

"Yes." She whispered.

"Good. Remember, we are always watching....now let this be a lesson to you for the future. All children in your school are alike no matter what their financial status, no matter if their parent's volunteer or not, understand?"

"Yes." Sister whispered again.

I shifted my weight, dissolved to the invisible and jumped from the desk. It took a few moments before Sister Theresa pulled herself from the floor. She then sat on her chair for several minutes shivering with fright. "Dear Lord, I'm sorry." She managed with exasperation.

I followed her from her office and into the main lobby. It was there she beckoned Margaret using the overhead p.a. system. Her pitch of voice was lacking syrup and it was obvious Margaret would soon learn a swift lesson of accountability.

A few minutes later, Margaret appeared with a impish grin that melted like a snowball thrown into a fireplace.

Needless to say, what transpired from this point forward was not cushioned and in the end, Margaret Baker would never pull another stunt on Melissa Bland again.

______

The school bell clanged and children flew from the doors scattering like sand grains whipping about in a dust storm. I waited patiently as Melissa was the last to appear from within the clutches of the metallic doorway.

"Hi." She said with endearing shyness.

"Did everything go well this afternoon?" I asked.

"Oh yes. Margaret was forced to apologize. I had never seen her cry before, and as strange as it sounds, I felt sorry for her."

I nodded finding the compassion Melissa felt for someone that had abused her through the years, amazing.

We began to walk from the school and paused at the cross road.

"Have you considered the wish any further?"

"Yes. I believe I've reached a decision." Missy announced sounding years wiser than she actually was.

"And?"

Melissa smiled a warm, no-nonsense grin. "I would like to have my mother back."

"Your mother?" I asked not quite understanding.

"Yes. It was my fault that she died. I would like to go back and fix what I messed up. Can it be done?"

I stood there overwrought with confusion. There were limits to the Wishgivens. Resurrecting someone after their death was definitely off limits and yet, this girl was so fragile, this wish so important. She had been through so much, too much. I was uncertain about the details, but everything she endured was hinted about her eyes. Old, remorseful eyes like that of a ninety year old.

"Okay." I said making my decision known.

In that moment a horrible buzz appeared within my mind. It was a voice, a voice of disapproval, Granny's voice. The no she announced reverberated and echoed causing the world to spin out.

"I will do it!" I said with determination, understanding full well I was breaking a monumental rule.

Suddenly the incredible din ceased as an overpowering tranquillity prevailed.

I pulled Melissa's hand within mine as was the routine of a genie. I closed my eyes and concentrated. Energy fell from the world around me. The sun dissolved and an eclipse covered the illumination. Power from the overhead lights streamed in large manmade bolts directed into my shoulders.

Images from Melissa entered my mind. Countless pranks were pulled on the child. Faces of children, faces of teachers: angry, taunting, horrible.....my heart was overwhelmed at the mercilessness others imposed. I then took notice of her father, through Melissa's perspective. He was crying, all the time depressed. His life was a living hell and Melissa blamed herself for every morsel of his grief.

Instead of talking to anyone about the events of that tragic afternoon, she withdrew inside herself. The horrific afternoon, I was catapulted back to that event right along with the soul of her.

Four years ago, the girl was a slight of a child. I stood at the base staring up at a huge Maple tree. There was delight as Melissa maneuvered from limb to limb taking unnecessary risks with each move. The weather suddenly changed and the sky began to spit a persistent drizzle.

Melissa' mother appeared at the base of the tree gazing up. "Missy!" She called, her voice breaking the hypnotic patter of the rain drops. "You'd better come in now. The bark will get slick and I'd hate to see you fall."

"Oh mom!" The girl said in a complaining tone.

"Don't oh mom me Missy Anne! I mean come down and now!"

"Okay." Melissa whined.

The girl took a step and somehow lost her footing. Melissa was very far up, at least twice as high as the two story home. Somehow within the plunge she somersaulted around head first, directly into the path of her mother.

With all my Genie power I intercepted the collision. I had to save the mother, it was what Melissa had wished for. I swung in and used my body as a trampoline preventing the impact and protecting the mom.

To my horror in doing so, Melissa deflected from the overhead point and was thrown, spine first into the base of the ancient tree. Her bones snapped and the sound was a fraction louder than popcorn popping. The mother and I screamed NO in unison.

I zoomed in realizing I had made a grave mistake in releasing Melissa's hand. I reached through the dimension and felt around in the pit of emptiness. "Missy!" I screamed frantic. My fingertips brushed with odd things, strange contortions of the middle world. Soft, heated, sifting, shifting, slimy, gloomy, but nothing resembling Melissa's hand. I had lost her, I had lost the proper connection.

My heart was consumed with a horrible grief. In a blink, the girl was barely alive. Her frail body laid in a heap of broken limbs. I swung over to her and our eyes locked in a sudden understanding.

"You found me." She whispered as I realized the Melissa from the future had connected to Melissa of the past.

"I'm here." I said fighting off the emotion.

"My mom is going to live." She muttered as the mother ran to the fence and screamed for the neighbors to call an ambulance.

"Yes, your mother is going to live." I said as the guilt from what I had done tore at my heart.

"You are a great genie. You did exactly as I had wanted."

"You might die." I whispered.

"But my mother will live." Missy said as she gasped for her final breath.

I reached frantically through the dimension. I needed to locate Missy's hand. I had to fix things so they could work out for everyone. I couldn't allow her to expire. She had gone through so much, given her last breath so that someone else could live. It was a total selfless thing to do. She had to live, she had to be reunited with her mother. There were so many wonderful memories that had to be lived.

My mind shifted to the few moments of warmth I shared with my own mother and the weight was overwhelming.

In the outer dimension, my fingertips reconnected with human flesh. In a whirlwind I removed myself from the scene of Missy and her grief stricken mother. Just as I dissolved, her mother released a primal-gut wrenching moan. I heard it, I felt it, within every fiber of my energy.

I popped back to the school in the world of the future. Instead of Melissa's hand, I was now holding the mother's. She smiled with remorse as she gazed upon the children leaving the school yard. Streaks of uniforms hurried about, animated smiles from other parents as they rushed to meet their beloved, embraces of warmth apparent in every direction.

"You know, my Melissa would have been in fourth grade this year." Missy's mother announced to another parent.

The woman nodded, then grabbed the hand of her daughter and they scampered away.

"Missy was the most wonderful kid!" She said as tears began to stream her face.

"I'm sorry." I whispered feeling intense regret for my actions.

The mother scanned the area where I was standing and shook her head in dismissal.

I followed her back down the street and into the overgrown yard where death had taken her precious child. Death had robbed the mother of the future, but it did not steal away the memories of the past. Missy was alive, alive within the hearts of those that loved her best.

Once I realized this fact, I was whisked forward. Thrown from a dimension of the after-world and into a waiting chamber for reprimand. I noticed right off the glow of prestige was absent from my hairline. Somehow I sensed that I was in all fairness, demoted. The uncertainty of my future did not matter in comparison to how I felt about Melissa Bland and my enormous mistake. Why couldn't I follow the rules? Why couldn't I listen? Perhaps I was incapable at taking no for an answer. After all, I lived the childhood of the pampered where the word no was not part of my vocabulary.