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  Text copyright © Mahtab Narsimhan 2021

  Illustrations copyright © Michelle Simpson 2021

  Published in Canada and the United States in 2021 by Orca Book Publishers.

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  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Title: Genie meanie / Mahtab Narsimhan ; illustrated by Michelle Simpson.

  Names: Narsimhan, Mahtab, author. | Simpson, Michelle (Illustrator), illustrator.

  Series: Orca echoes.

  Description: Series statement: Orca echoes

  Identifiers: Canadiana (print) 20200182250 | Canadiana (ebook) 20200182285 | ISBN 9781459823983 (softcover) | ISBN 9781459823990 (PDF) | ISBN 9781459824003 (EPUB)

  Classification: LCC PS8627.A77 G46 2021 | DDC jC813/.6—dc23

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2020931805

  Summary: In this partially illustrated chapter book, an eight-year-old girl confronts a bully with the help of a genie she discovers has been living in a spice bottle her grandmother left her.

  Orca Book Publishers is committed to reducing the consumption of nonrenewable resources in the making of our books. We make every effort to use materials that support a sustainable future.

  Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada, the Canada Council for the Arts and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

  Cover artwork and interior illustrations by Michelle Simpson Author photo by Dean Macdonnell of Macdonnell Photography Edited by Liz Kemp

  Printed and bound in Canada.

  24 23 22 21 • 1 2 3 4

  For Rahul and Aftab.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter One

  I missed Gran so much, it was like having a stomachache that wouldn’t quit. No one could fill the hole in my heart that she’d left when she died. Not Grandpa, who was visiting from India, and not my parents or my best friend, Bai Leng. Grandpa had brought a box of treasures Gran wanted me to have, but this made me miss her even more.

  Gran was the only one who’d understood that school was tough. Kids could be super mean. She’d encouraged me to stand up for myself if anyone tried to bully me. Never give up trying to do the right thing, no matter how hard it is, she would say. But try not to hurt anyone either. How was I going to face another year of school without her?

  I frowned at the odds and ends I’d tipped out of the box onto my bed. Why had Gran left these things for me? A crow’s feather, a yellow pencil stub, a necklace made of wrinkled brown beads, a rusty key and a small glass bottle with some kind of spice in it. I searched for a note. Nothing.

  What was I going to do with the spice? Mom didn’t let me use the stove—Gran had known that. All of this stuff was junk—wait a minute. I stared at the bottle. It was labeled Zayn Garam Masala. A wisp of blue smoke seemed to waft up and down inside it, and I had the weirdest feeling it was trying to escape.

  I rattled the bottle.

  Oi! Stop!

  Startled, I looked around. “Who said that?” My desk and chair returned my gaze mutely.

  “Kiara!” Mom called from downstairs. “Dinner’s ready!”

  I was dying to examine the bottle more closely, but Mom liked everyone at the dinner table on time. I scooped up Gran’s things and put them back into the box. Except the bottle of garam masala. I picked it up. “Ouch!” It was so hot, I dropped it. “Oh no!” Luckily it landed on the carpet with a thud.

  Watch it, butterfingers!

  “What? Who? Come out and show yourself!” I said, inching toward the door. Bai had texted to let me know he was back from his vacation in China and had precisely one day to get ready for school. I needed to ask if he knew anything about ghosts, because either my room was haunted or I was losing it, but I’d have to wait until tomorrow.

  No one appeared. I was the only kid in this house. But the voice I was hearing in my head also belonged to a kid. It kind of sounded like this horrible boy in my class, Matt.

  I gazed at my reflection in the mirror. Brown eyes stared back at me from under a mass of wriggly black hair. “Kiara, you’re only eight and you’re losing your mind,” I said to myself. “That’s sad!”

  Yup! the voice in my head agreed.

  I picked up the bottle, which was barely warm now, and put it on the desk. This was so weird.

  “Kiara Prasad, I want you at the dinner table, now!” Mom’s voice had a sharp edge.

  I glanced at the bottle once more before I left the room.

  The smoke inside was now blood red.

  Chapter Two

  I raced through dinner even though it was my favorite, shrimp curry and rice. Normally I would enjoy each bite and take a second helping. But today I had Zayn Garam Masala on my mind. I couldn’t wait to get back to my room.

  “First day of school tomorrow, Kiara,” said Grandpa. “Ready for third grade?”

  No! If Gran were here, I would have confided to her that I was scared. Although most of my classmates were okay, Matt the bully loved to pick on Bai and me. The thought of facing him again made my stomach clench. The curry and rice wanted to climb right back out. But I wasn’t announcing this at the table. Mom would tell me it was only first-day jitters, that things would get better once I settled down. With Matt, things only ever got worse.

  I shrugged. “Sort of.”

  Grandpa stroked my hair. “You’ll be fine.”

  I nodded. “May I be excused, please? I have to get ready for tomorrow.”

  Mom nodded. Grandpa gave me a sad smile. “Leela would be so proud of her granddaughter starting third grade. She would have made your favorite coconut burfi to celebrate.”

  I hugged him before I left the table. He was missing Gran just as much as I was. Maybe a tiny bit more.

  I raced into my room. The bottle was exactly where I’d left it. A wisp of smoke, blue again, floated to the top and then back down, over and over. I picked it up and sat on the bed. The glass was cool under my fingertips. Earlier it had been hot, then warm. What was going on? Was this a magic-trick bottle from Gran’s childhood days? How did it work? What did it do?

  What are you waiting for? Diwali? Open it.

  This time I didn’t bother looking around. The bossy voice was in my head. And I didn’t like it. At all.

  I ran a finger around the screw-top lid. Did I dare?

  Hurry up!

  “Hope I’m doing the right thing, Gran,” I whispered to myself as I started to unscrew the lid. It was rusty and didn�
��t budge. I tried harder. My fingers kept slipping.

  Put some muscle into it!

  “Shut up!” I said.

  “That was rude, Kiara,” said Mom, who happened to be passing by my room. “Who’re you talking to?”

  She popped her head in just as I shoved the bottle under my pillow and grabbed a book. “No one. I was reading aloud.”

  “Hmm.” Mom didn’t look entirely convinced. “If your schoolbag is packed, I suggest you go to bed. Good night.”

  “Good night!” I said.

  Mom shut the door gently. I picked up the bottle again. Red smoke zoomed inside like a mini tornado.

  I took a deep breath and put all my strength into unscrewing the top. After the first couple of turns, it was easy. As soon as the lid popped off, the smoke shot out and straight into my eyes, blinding me. It felt like someone had thrown a handful of pepper into my face. The stink of stale spice filled the room.

  “It’s been a thousand years since my last shower!” someone said in a disgusted voice. “GROSS!”

  I scrubbed my watering eyes and opened them. A boy dressed like an Indian maharaja stood at the foot of my bed. He wore tight white pants scrunched up at the ankles and a red-gold tunic that ended below his knees. Spiky black hair stuck out from under a red turban. His emerald-green eyes stared into mine as he took off his turban and gave a deep bow. “Thank you for releasing me, Scrawny Human,” he said with a cool smile. “At your service…not!”

  I backed up against the wall. “Are you—”

  “Yes,” he said. “I’m Zayn, a genie. And I desperately need a shower. Show me the bathroom and go get me some food. I’m starving!”

  Chapter Three

  I stared. And stared. A minute passed, then two. Zayn walked around the room, examining everything, smirking at me now and then.

  “You’re a real, live genie?” I asked.

  “Yes and yes.”

  “The magical kind?” I said.

  “Bingo!”

  “One that can grant three wishes?” I said, fingers crossed behind my back.

  “Oui, madame!” he said. “And make that unlimited wishes. Three is so last millennium.”

  “As many as I like?” I asked, just so there was no confusion. I was already making a mental list of all the things I wanted.

  “Si, señorita!” he said.

  “Someone who will do my every bidding!” I said. “Like in the Aladdin story?”

  “Whoa!” said Zayn, tossing his stinky turban onto my bed. “We’ll have to discuss that. But before we do anything, I need a shower and something to eat.”

  I stared at him. “My name is Kiara, and you’ve forgotten the magic word.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “We don’t use magic words these days. Too old-fashioned.”

  “I meant please,” I said. “And thank you. Sorry too, if you’ve done something wrong.”

  Zayn stopped in mid eye roll when I glared at him. “Please get me something to eat or you’ll be very sorry,” he said with a charming smile. “Thank you.”

  He did smell like an overcooked curry and badly needed a shower. “I’ll get you a snack. The bathroom is right there.”

  Gran had never told me anything about a genie. How did she get him? Was Zayn real or had the stress of facing Matt tomorrow made me lose my mind already? I stared at the empty bottle. The label explained his name, Zayn Garam Masala. I’d make him explain everything else to me later.

  Mom was cleaning up in the kitchen.

  “May I have a snack before bed?” I asked.

  She looked surprised but agreed. “Would you like an apple with peanut butter?”

  “How about some more of your delicious curry and rice plus the apple with peanut butter?”

  “I thought you’d eaten your fill at dinner, but all right,” said Mom with a laugh. “Once you finish, bring the dirty dishes down and put them in the dishwasher, please.”

  I carried the food upstairs on a tray, shut my door and piled some books and stuffies against it. Early warning system in case Mom decided to drop in while I was negotiating my wish list with Zayn.

  Minutes later he walked out of the bathroom, wearing a pair of shorts and my favorite yellow T-shirt and smelling of my watermelon shampoo. A whiff of garam masala still clung to him. It would probably take another thousand years of scrubbing to get rid of that smell.

  “Hey!” I said. “Who said you could wear my clothes?”

  “My clothes stank. And these are so soft and comfortable,” he said.

  “Eat, and then we talk,” I said, pushing the tray toward him. “I’ll give you my wish list. The first thing I want is for you to take care of the bully, Matt.”

  Zayn sat cross-legged on the carpet and inhaled the food, pausing only to say, “Your mother is a great cook!” Within seconds the plates were wiped clean. He burped loudly.

  “Manners!” I said.

  Zayn burped even louder. “You may ask your questions now, Kiara.”

  “How did you get into that bottle?”

  Zayn shook his head. “Long story, and I’m too tired to tell you now. Next?”

  “Can everyone see you, or am I the only one?”

  Before he could answer, there was a knock on my door. I jumped up so quickly I almost fell over. How would I explain why I had another kid in my room without permission? Mom was going to have a cow.

  “May we come in, Kiara?” Mom called. “Grandpa wants to say good night.”

  “Hide!” I said to Zayn as I pushed the books and stuffies out of the way and opened the door. But he just lounged on the carpet and yawned.

  I was going to be deader than the mutton leg defrosting in the fridge. Mom stood outside my room with Grandpa.

  “Good luck tomorrow,” Grandpa said, kissing my forehead. “And good night.”

  “Night, Grandpa,” I replied. “Thank you.”

  Mom glanced at the empty tray and walked into my room to get it. I expected her to yell any second now. Zayn sat inches from her feet, grinning.

  “You must have been hungry,” said Mom. “Make sure you eat a proper meal tomorrow. Now it’s time for bed. I’ll take these downstairs.”

  I shut the door and stared at Zayn. “Only I can see you?”

  “Jawohl,” said Zayn, with a yawn so wide his jaw cracked.

  “Can I tell my best friend, Bai, about you? He would love to meet you. He’s really into Chinese mythology, ghost stories and all things magic.”

  “You can tell no one! You want wishes granted, and I want privacy. If you told your friend, he would want wishes too. No. Can. Do. I only ignore—I mean, listen to one master at a time.”

  “Okay, okay!” I said. “Let’s talk about my wishes.”

  Zayn yawned again. “I’ve been standing up forever. It’ll be nice to lie down.” He snapped his fingers. A small four-poster bed with a purple canopy appeared by the window. It had matching silken covers and piles of squishy pillows. He raised his arms over his head like a professional swimmer and dived in.

  “You can’t sleep yet!” I said. “I haven’t told you what I want.”

  “How about you tell me in a thousand years,” he said, closing his eyes. “I’m on vacation. Starting now.”

  “But—but I’m your master…err, mistress? Either way you must do my bidding!”

  Zayn gave an extra-loud snore.

  Chapter Four

  Zayn was still sleeping when I left for my first day of third grade the next morning. I poked his foot. Rock solid. I had not been imagining things, nor was I losing my mind. This evening I would show him who was boss! What was the point of a genie (with unlimited wishes!) if you couldn’t get him to do your bidding?

  “Hey, Kira-Kira, welcome back!” said Matt the moment I entered class. “We’re going to have a fun year, weirdo!”

  I kept a straight face though my heart was pounding. I remembered the time he’d pushed my swing so hard that I’d fallen off and scraped my hands and knees. There were many more in
cidents than that, but this one had been the scariest. I ignored Matt, found a seat by the window and saved one beside me for Bai.

  “Kiara!” an excited voice called out.

  “Bai!” My best friend charged into the classroom. He was tanned, with straight black hair that fell to his shoulders. Today it was tied back in a ponytail. As always he wore horn-rimmed glasses, khakis and a white shirt. I had tried to get him to wear a hoodie once in a while to tone down his too-neat look, but he’d refused, and I respected that.

  “And here comes weirdo number two,” said Matt from his seat across the room.

  “Leave us alone,” I said, trying to sound firm.

  “I second that!” said Bai.

  Matt laughed, and his buddies joined in.

  “Good summer holidays?” Bai said, plunking down on the seat beside me.

  “My gran died. I miss her a lot.” My voice wobbled, and I looked out the window, trying not to bawl so Matt wouldn’t have more to tease me about.

  Bai gave me a big hug. “Sorry I wasn’t here for you. My parents had a lot of stuff to take care of, and we stayed in China longer than we’d planned. We only came back a day ago, or you and I could have hung out before school.”

  “At least you came back! I don’t have to face third grade on my own.” We both glanced at Matt.

  “This year is going to be better,” said Bai. “Because we’re not going to let him bully us. We’ll fight back. Right?”

  “Right!” I said. I knew I had Zayn, and the first wish he was granting me was to stop Matt from picking on us.

  “I got you something,” said Bai, digging into his bag. He gave me a notebook with a brilliant red dragon, breathing fire, on its crinkly cover.

  “This is beautiful,” I said, flipping it open. Blank, smooth pages waiting to be filled. I turned it over. Made in China. I grinned. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” said Bai, smiling back. “Nothing like that in India, right?”

  “Ha—better!” I replied.