William St. James was dying, but this was not the worst of his problems.
His classmates and teachers became a lot more understanding when he rolled into fifth grade on a wheelchair. He was drawn into friendly and well-meaning (if stilted) conversations with kids who never used to give him the time of day; he was excused from PE and any other class he didn't feel like sitting through. He was even invited to the occasional party. People were, on the whole, nicer.
Except for Chester.
If anything, he became meaner. He held back less with the pranks, got more creative with the insults. And he wasn't dense to begin with—his grades were some of the highest in the class. Initially, William sort of respected the guy for sticking to his guns.
Then one day he arrived at first period English (early, for once!) and there was Chester, sitting on his desk, flirting with his crush. He was showing off a fully rendered pencil drawing of himself and Florence as a crime-fighting cape duo. It was a bridge too far and Chester recognised it, relished the pain in William's heart. From then on Chester took every opportunity to rub in William's face that the kindest and prettiest girl he'd ever met would never want to be with him.
William didn't want or even need everything to change. Just that.
When Alexandria made a surprise visit to their private school during Friday morning devotions, it caused quite a stir. Part of it may have been due to her crashing straight through a stained glass window, showering the less fortunate pews in glittering shards.
She hovered over to the front of the chapel and took the place of the fleeing chaplain and altar servers. "I have an announcement to make. I want you all to pay close attention, because this pertains to your future."
Her voice rang out clearly over the hubbub. Even the students who were making tourniquets out of their uniform ties to stop their bleeding paused to pay heed to her words.
"William St. James is the coolest boy in the seventh grade," Alexandria said. "You should all desire to be friends with him."
The children were astonished at her doctrine. William shrank back into his seat, disbelieving.
Chester turned and leaned over the back of his bench and hissed so only William could hear. "You know that doesn't mean anything, right? She just said that because your cerebellum's getting squishy. She feels sorry for you like everyone else."
When Chester turned back around, Alexandria was all up in his grill inside of a second. Her imperious stare bore down on him, shrivelling him into a raisin.
"You, Chester Michael Montgomery, will peak in middle school," she said. "Your only claim to 'success' is qualifying for the gifted program, which itself privileges affluent white students who have access to tutoring and external resources and therefore means nothing. You will grow up to blame your behavioural issues and lack of self-esteem on your advanced academic placement, but they will actually stem from a confluence of genes, poor parenting, and an undiagnosed personality disorder—none of which can be spun into a positive."
William couldn't see Chester's face, but his silence was sweet enough.
"Wish granted." Alexandria swept her cape over her shoulder with a flourish, preparing to leave.
"Wait!" William found himself calling out. "No, this isn't my wish!"
That actually gave Alexandria pause.
"This is what you wrote," she said. "'The other kids at school bully me all the time and I wish for them to stop, especially Chester Montgomery.' The foundation marked it invalid, but I personally reevaluated all submitted wishes. Is this not satisfactory?"
"No," William said, "I—I mean, yeah, I wrote that before I came back to school. I didn't know I would get popular. So… um, this actually didn't change the status quo. At all."
Alexandria said nothing but didn't fly away, regarding him through the visor of her helmet.
"Can I get another wish? Please?" he wheedled, seizing his chance. He pointed at a shell-shocked Florence in the pew across from his. "Can you make her my girlfriend?"
Alexandria cast a glance at Florence. She looked back at him. She frowned.
"Who do you think I am, Jesus?" Alexandria asked, and spiralled through the same hole she had created in the ceiling.
